Chapter 2: The Lie Behind the Locked Door
I stood outside Vanessa's bedroom, barely breathing.
For two years, I had watched her take credit for everything that made our household look good. She accepted compliments for meals I cooked, praised herself for grades Brianna earned with a tutor, and told relatives that she had transformed my father into a better parent.
But this was different.
She wasn't just taking credit for something I'd made.
She was planning to steal my future.
I pressed my back against the hallway wall as Vanessa continued talking.
"Of course I know the competition is tomorrow," she said.
"The photographs are already submitted. Nobody checks every little detail.""
A pause.
Then she laughed.
"Brianna has the face for it. The dress will do the rest.""
My stomach tightened.
I wanted to storm inside and demand an explanation. I wanted to throw the paint container at her feet and ask how many times she intended to destroy my life before she felt satisfied.
Instead, I backed away.
I needed proof.
I returned to my bedroom, closed the door, and opened my laptop. Mrs. Alvarez had shown me the public announcement for the Young Designers Showcase.
The event wasn't simply a beauty competition. It was a professional exhibition where young designers presented original garments to a panel of industry judges.
The winner received a development grant.
The finalists' designs were protected by an ownership agreement.
And the application photographs were archived.
I read the rules three times.
Then I searched for the showcase's submission deadline and discovered something that made my fingers stop above the keyboard.
Brianna's name appeared on the finalist list.
Beside it was a photograph of my original white dress.
My exact dress.
The sculpted shoulders. The narrow waist. The curved seam beneath the bust. Even the tiny pearl buttons I'd sewn along the back.
The photograph had been taken against the pale gray wall of my bedroom.
I clicked on the entry.
*Designer: Brianna Vale.*
*Collection title: Tidal Elegance.*
*Design inspiration: The relationship between strength, femininity, and the movement of the ocean.*
I felt sick.
Brianna hadn't merely stolen my dress.
She had stolen my story.
I took screenshots of the page, the photographs, and the application details. Then I saved them in three places: my laptop, a cloud folder, and a flash drive Mrs. Alvarez had given me.
A soft knock came at my door.
I nearly dropped the computer.
"Who is it?""
"It's me," Dad said.
I closed the laptop.
"Come in.""
He stepped inside and looked at the garment rack. My reconstructed dress was hidden beneath a long cover.
"Your stepmother says you're still upset.""
I stared at him.
"She destroyed my dress, Dad.""
"She says Brianna made a mistake.""
"Then why did Brianna enter my design in a competition?""
His expression changed.
"What are you talking about?""
I opened the laptop and showed him the page.
He leaned closer.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he shook his head.
"Maybe it's a similar design.""
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Similar? Dad, look at the photograph. That's my bedroom wall. That's my dress.""
He rubbed his chin.
"Did you submit it anywhere?""
"Not that version.""
"Then how do you know she stole it?""
"Because I made it!""
My voice cracked on the final word.
Dad looked toward the door as though he hoped Vanessa might appear and rescue him from the conversation.
"Nia, I'm sure we can sort this out.""
"Then tell Brianna to withdraw.""
"I'll speak to Vanessa.""
"No. Speak to Brianna.""
He hesitated.
"She's under a lot of pressure right now.""
I laughed once, without humor.
"She's under pressure? Dad, she destroyed my dress, submitted my design, and lied about making it. What pressure could she possibly be under that matters more than that?""
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said the words I had heard too many times.
"Please don't make this bigger than it needs to be.""
He left.
I watched the door close.
And I understood something painful.
My father wasn't confused.
He was choosing the easiest person to disappoint.
At dinner, Vanessa served roasted chicken and potatoes on the good plates. Brianna wore a new silk blouse and spent the entire meal discussing tomorrow's event.
"Mom says the judges are very important people," she announced.
"One of them owns a fashion house in New York.""
Vanessa smiled proudly.
"Your talent deserves to be recognized, sweetheart.""
I kept my eyes on my plate.
Brianna leaned toward me.
"Are you coming to watch?""
"No.""
"Good. I wouldn't want you to feel embarrassed when I win.""
Vanessa set down her fork.
"Nia, your sister is trying to include you. You could at least congratulate her.""
"Congratulations," I said.
Brianna tilted her head.
"That sounded painful.""
"Not nearly as painful as stealing someone's work.""
The room fell silent.
Dad placed his fork down.
"Nia.""
"What? She entered my dress into a competition. I have the screenshots.""
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
"Be very careful about making accusations you cannot support.""
"I can support them.""
"With what? A few photographs?""
"With the original sketches, receipts, construction photographs, and the dress itself.""
Brianna's smile faltered.
Vanessa noticed.
She always noticed when her daughter was afraid.
"That's enough," she said sharply.
"Brianna has worked very hard for this opportunity.""
I almost laughed.
"She didn't sew a single stitch.""
Vanessa stood so abruptly that her chair scraped across the floor.
"You ungrateful little girl.""
Dad rose halfway from his seat.
"Vanessa, please.""
But she had already turned toward me.
"You have spent your entire life making this family difficult. Your mother encouraged you to believe you were special, and now you think everyone owes you something.""
My hands tightened around the edge of the table.
"Don't talk about my mother.""
"Then stop using her as an excuse.""
The words struck harder than a slap.
I pushed my chair back and left the room.
Behind me, I heard Vanessa say, "See what I mean, Marcus? She can't stand to see Brianna succeed.""
I locked myself in my bedroom and called Mrs. Alvarez.
She answered on the second ring.
"Nia? Is everything all right?""
"No.""
I told her about the competition entry, the photographs, and the dinner conversation.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she said, "Bring every piece of evidence you have tomorrow. Do not confront them again tonight.""
"What if they destroy the dress?""
"Can you secure it?""
I looked at the garment bag.
"Yes.""
"Then do that. And Nia?""
"Yes?""
"People who steal often believe confidence is the same as ownership. Tomorrow, we're going to teach them the difference.""
I locked my dress inside the old storage trunk beneath my bed. I placed the flash drive inside my shoe and slid the application screenshots into a folder.
Then I sat beside the window and watched the streetlights come on.
At ten thirty, someone tried my doorknob.
I held my breath.
The handle moved once, then again.
"Nia?"" Brianna whispered.
I didn't answer.
"I know you're awake.""
Silence.
Then she lowered her voice.
"Listen, I don't want this to become a whole thing.""
I sat up.
"You stole my dress.""
"I borrowed it.""
"You submitted it as your own.""
"Mom said it was fine.""
I stood and moved toward the door.
"Then let me ask you something. If it was fine, why did you need to paint it first?""
There was a pause.
"What?""
"You heard me.""
"I didn't paint your dress.""
"You told Dad it was an accident.""
"I never said that.""
"You were standing in my room when I found it.""
Brianna exhaled sharply.
"You're impossible.""
"No. I'm the person who made the dress.""
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she said something I would remember for the rest of my life.
"Mom said nobody would believe you anyway.""
My hand froze on the doorknob.
"What did you just say?""
Brianna's voice became defensive.
"I didn't mean—"
"Did she tell you to destroy my dress?""
"No.""
The answer came too quickly.
I opened the door.
Brianna stood in the hallway wearing silk pajamas, her arms crossed.
"Tell me the truth," I said.
She looked past me into my bedroom.
"Mom said the original dress was too recognizable. She said if we changed the colors, nobody could prove it was yours.""
My heart hammered.
"You did this because she told you to?""
Brianna's eyes filled with angry tears.
"Don't act like you're the only one who matters! Mom said this competition could change everything for us.""
"Us?""
"She said if I won, people would finally take her seriously. She could start her own fashion business.""
I stared at her.
"So you destroyed my work to help her pretend she made it?""
Brianna's face hardened.
"You don't understand. She said your designs were wasted on you.""
For a second, I couldn't speak.
Then I stepped back.
"Get out.""
She didn't move.
"Nia, please. Just let me win tomorrow. I'll make it up to you.""
"How?""
"I don't know!""
"Then you have nothing to offer me.""
She looked at me with something between hatred and panic.
"You'll ruin everything.""
"No, Brianna. You and your mother already did that.""
She walked away.
I closed the door and turned the lock.
My hands were shaking, but my mind had never been clearer.
At six the next morning, I packed my dress, sketches, receipts, and photographs. Mrs. Alvarez arrived at our front door twenty minutes later.
Before I could leave, Vanessa appeared in the hallway wearing a cream-colored suit.
"Where do you think you're going?""
"To the showcase.""
Her gaze dropped to the garment bag.
"That dress isn't going anywhere.""
"It's mine.""
Vanessa stepped forward and grabbed the handle.
I held on.
"Let go, Nia.""
"No.""
She yanked hard enough to pull me off balance.
The garment bag struck the wall.
Dad came running downstairs.
"What is happening?""
Vanessa pointed at me.
"She's trying to sabotage Brianna's competition.""
"I'm trying to protect my work!""
"Your work?"" Vanessa laughed.
"You made a dress in your bedroom. Don't confuse sewing with fashion.""
Mrs. Alvarez stepped between us.
"That dress is original work, and I can verify that Nia designed and constructed it.""
Vanessa looked her up and down.
"And who are you?""
"Maria Alvarez. I own the alterations shop where Nia works.""
Vanessa's expression shifted when she heard the word owner.
She released the garment bag.
"Fine. Take your little dress. But don't expect this family to support you when you embarrass yourself.""
I walked past her.
As I reached the front door, Brianna appeared at the top of the stairs.
She was wearing the designer gown she'd purchased for the weekend.
It was beautiful.
And it was not the dress she had submitted.
She looked at me with frightened eyes.
"Nia," she called.
"Wait.""
I turned.
She gripped the railing.
"There's something else you need to know about the competition.""
"What?""
Her lips trembled.
"Mom didn't just submit the dress.""
May you like
She swallowed hard.
"She signed a contract.""
