Chapter 4: The Call That Changed Everything
“Nia, what exactly have you told them about your family?””
Vanessa's voice sliced through the phone, sharp enough to make Nia pull it away from her ear.
Across the hallway, Margot Sinclair stopped speaking to her assistant. She watched Nia's face and immediately understood that something had gone wrong.
“Nothing that isn't true,” Nia replied.
“Don't get clever with me. The competition called Brianna this morning. They asked whether she had permission to present the gown she's been preparing.””
“Because she didn't make it.””
“Lower your voice!””
Nia glanced toward the atelier's glass offices. Employees moved between clothing racks, carrying sketches and garment bags. Nobody seemed interested in her family drama, yet she suddenly felt as though everyone could hear her.
“You stole my dress,” Nia said.
“I have photographs of it before you took it. I have the original sketches, the receipts, and four months of work to prove it.””
Vanessa went silent.
Then she laughed.
It wasn't a nervous laugh. It was the familiar, dismissive sound Nia had heard whenever she dared to challenge her stepmother's authority.
“You really think a few photographs make you a designer?””
“They prove I made the gown.””
“Brianna has been telling people about her creative process for weeks. She has witnesses. She has friends who saw her working on the design.””
Nia's stomach tightened.
“That isn't true.””
“Then I suggest you stop making accusations you can't support.””
Margot approached and held out her hand. Nia passed her the phone.
“This is Margot Sinclair,” the designer said calmly.
“I'm advising Nia regarding the authorship of her work. Please direct any further communication about the competition to the appropriate representatives.””
Vanessa's tone changed instantly.
“Ms. Sinclair? I'm so sorry you've been dragged into this. Nia has always been imaginative, but she sometimes struggles to distinguish between inspiration and ownership.””
Margot's expression hardened.
“That's an interesting claim. Do you have evidence that your daughter created the gown?””
“My daughter has been interested in fashion for years.””
“That wasn't my question.””
Another silence.
Margot continued, “We have dated photographs, original sketches, material receipts, and records of the construction process. I suggest you preserve any evidence you believe supports your position.””
“You can't speak to me like that!””
“I just did.””
Margot ended the call.
Nia stared at her.
“I've never heard anyone talk to Vanessa that way.””
“That's because people have spent years allowing her to believe she can say anything without consequences.””
For the first time that morning, Nia almost smiled.
Then her phone vibrated again.
A notification appeared from Brianna's social media account.
A new video.
Nia tapped it.
Brianna stood in front of the bedroom mirror, wearing Nia's stolen gown. The sapphire patterns shimmered beneath the lights, and the long train spread across the carpet.
She smiled into the camera.
“Hey, everyone! I've been getting so many questions about my graduation design, so I thought I'd finally show you the whole thing. I've been working on this for months, and I can't wait to wear it to my graduation dinner.””
She turned slowly, allowing the camera to capture the embroidery.
Then she added, “It's amazing what happens when you trust your own creativity instead of copying everyone else.””
Nia's mouth fell open.
Brianna had stolen her dress and was now accusing her of being the copycat.
The video already had hundreds of views.
Comments poured in.
Girl, this is incredible!
Future fashion designer right here.
You made this yourself? The details are insane!
Brianna replied to the last comment with a heart.
Nia felt something inside her go cold.
“She knows exactly what she's doing.””
Margot watched the video twice.
“Save it. Record the date, the account name, and the comments. Don't respond publicly.””
“But everyone is congratulating her.””
“And if you attack her online, she will use your reaction to make you look unstable. Let the evidence speak.””
Nia downloaded the video and sent a copy to herself. Then she opened her original photographs, comparing the gown in Brianna's video with the sketches stored on her laptop.
Every detail matched.
Even the tiny embroidered butterfly beneath the left shoulder had the same uneven wing Nia had deliberately shaped by hand.
There was no question of coincidence.
By noon, Margot had arranged a meeting with the competition's program director, Daniel Reeves. He joined them by video call from the organization's New York office.
Daniel wore a navy suit and spoke with the careful neutrality of someone accustomed to handling disputes between ambitious young designers.
“Miss Carter,” he began, “we received a complaint alleging that you submitted a design substantially similar to another contestant's work.””
Nia stared at him.
“I'm the original designer.””
“I understand that's your position. The other contestant has submitted a statement claiming the gown is hers.””
“Then why did you contact her first?””
“Because her registration was received before the complaint was filed.””
Margot leaned forward.
“Registration time does not establish authorship. We have evidence that predates the submission.””
Daniel nodded.
“I'm willing to review it. However, the competition must remain impartial. Until the dispute is resolved, neither contestant may publicly claim the gown as an original competition entry.””
Nia's hands clenched beneath the desk.
“Brianna has already posted a video claiming she designed it.””
“Please send us the link.””
Margot forwarded the evidence.
Daniel reviewed the files while the room remained silent. He opened the earliest photograph, enlarged the bodice, then examined a sketch with handwritten measurements.
“This is promising,” he said finally.
“But I need more than photographs. Do you have dated work files or other documentation showing the progression of the design?””
“Yes,” Nia answered.
“My sketches are in a notebook. I also have pictures from different stages of construction.””
“Send everything. We'll place the disputed entry under review.””
It wasn't a victory, but it was the first time someone with authority had listened.
After the call ended, Margot walked Nia to the guest room above the atelier.
The space was small but beautiful, with a narrow bed, a desk, and a window overlooking the city. A garment rack stood against one wall.
“You can work here,” Margot said.
“Our staff can help you source materials, but I won't design the gown for you. The competition needs to see your talent, not mine.””
Nia nodded.
“That's fair.””
“And Nia?””
“Yes?””
“Don't let anger make your decisions. You have five days to finish the Phoenix Gown. That is your priority.””
Nia looked at the sketch in her hand.
For the first time, the challenge felt possible.
She spent the afternoon organizing her mother's notes, tracing the pattern pieces, and testing the fabric's strength. Every stitch brought her closer to a design that belonged entirely to her.
At six, Margot brought her a sandwich and a cup of tea.
“You haven't eaten.””
“I forgot.””
“Your mother used to do the same thing when she was working.””
Nia looked up.
“What was she like?””
Margot pulled a chair beside the desk.
“Stubborn. Brilliant. Terrible at asking for help. She could look at a torn piece of fabric and imagine ten different ways to make it beautiful.””
Nia smiled faintly.
“That sounds familiar.””
“It should.””
For a few minutes, they sat in comfortable silence.
Then Nia's laptop chimed.
An email had arrived from the competition.
*URGENT: AUTHENTICITY REVIEW — ADDITIONAL DOCUMENTATION REQUIRED.*
She opened it.
The organizers had received a second statement from Brianna.
Attached was a signed affidavit claiming that Nia had stolen Brianna's original sketches and fabricated evidence to sabotage her graduation.
Nia read the statement twice.
At the bottom was Brianna's signature.
Beside it was the signature of a witness.
Vanessa Carter.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The affidavit included a photograph supposedly showing Brianna working on the gown three months earlier.
Nia enlarged it.
The picture showed Brianna sitting at a sewing machine, surrounded by white silk and blue crystals.
Behind her, on the wall, hung a calendar.
The date was clear.
And Nia knew exactly where she had been that day.
At the hospital, visiting her dying grandmother.
A day she had documented in photographs.
A day Brianna had spent at home.
Nia stared at the image.
“They've made a fake timeline.””
Margot's expression turned grim.
“No,” she said.
“They've done something more dangerous.””
She pointed to the sewing machine in the photograph.
“That's not your machine.””
Nia looked closer.
It was an industrial embroidery machine, the kind used by professional fashion studios.
On the machine's metal plate was a logo.
*VALE COUTURE GROUP.*
Margot rose slowly.
May you like
“Richard Vale has just entered this fight.””
And somewhere across the city, Brianna was preparing to wear Nia's stolen gown in front of the very people who could determine both their futures.
