Chapter 17 - The Borrowed Brush
The second agreement was dated seven years earlier, when Maya was eight. It stated that Clara had appointed Tasha as Maya’s creative representative and agreed to divide all future art income equally between them.
“I never signed this,” Clara said.
“I believe you,” Sarah answered. “Belief is not enough for court, but the document has weaknesses.”
The paper carried Clara’s signature, an old home address, and a sentence that sounded like Xi’s voice: Family success must remain family property.
“That phrase was never mine,” Clara said.
“It may not matter whose phrase it was,” Sarah said. “We need to show when and how the signature was obtained.”
Clara remembered the blank page from her teenage years, but this document claimed to be signed much later. The old signature could have been scanned, enlarged, and placed beneath new text.
Maya sat across from them, silent until Evan asked whether she wanted a break.
“No. I want to know what she has done with my work.”
June and a copyright investigator named Leah Park traced the stolen files through several accounts. The original uploads had been altered, but the hidden creation data remained in three of the images. Maya’s tablet had created them on dates when Tasha claimed Maya had not yet begun drawing seriously.
Leah discovered a fourth image in an online print store. The seller’s account belonged to Nolan Price.
“He didn’t just promote her,” Leah said. “He sold the files himself.”
Sarah sent formal preservation demands to the platforms. The next step was a civil claim for infringement and false attribution. It would not be quick. It would not restore every stolen hour. But it would establish a record that could not be edited by a tearful video.
Ryan came to the house that evening. He looked older than Clara remembered, more tired around the eyes.
“I need to tell you something before Tasha tells it wrong,” he said.
Clara let him in but kept the door open behind him.
Ryan said Tasha had shown him the second agreement months earlier. She had asked him to say Clara signed it at a family barbecue. He had refused.
“Why didn’t you tell us then?” Clara asked.
“Because I was scared she’d say I helped her. And because I hoped she’d stop.”
Maya looked at him. “Hope is not the same as warning someone.”
He nodded. “I know.”
Ryan handed Sarah a flash drive. It contained messages Tasha had sent him, including one that read: Once the judge sees Clara’s signature, nobody will care where the paintings came from.
Another said: Maya is a child. We can make her understand this is bigger than her feelings.
Clara read the words without shaking. That was the victory no one else could see.
“There’s one more thing,” Ryan said. “Tasha asked me to find a way to get Maya to sign a representation contract. She said the trust could pay for an agent if Maya agreed.”
Sarah’s expression hardened. “That would be an attempt to exploit the beneficiary directly.”
Maya’s phone chimed.
An email had arrived from an account using the name of a respected youth arts foundation. It offered her a solo exhibition, professional representation, and a private scholarship interview. The attached contract required Maya to assign “all rights connected to the Silver Box collection” to the foundation’s representative.
The representative was listed as Patricia Vance.
“She sent it to me because she thinks I’ll sign without telling anyone,” Maya said.
“Will you?” Evan asked.
Maya looked at the screen, then at her family. “No.”
Sarah leaned closer. “We may be able to use this.”
Clara frowned. “Use it how?”
“Carefully and lawfully. We do not bait her or put Maya in danger. We document the offer, notify the foundation, and let counsel communicate.”
Maya closed the email. “I want her to hear me say no.”
Before anyone could answer, another message appeared from Tasha’s account.
May you like
You can keep pretending your mother owns your future, Maya. I have the original proof of what Clara promised.
Attached was a scan of a blank page bearing Clara’s teenage signature.
