Chapter 2: The Secret Inside Her Mother's Box
At 6:15 the following morning, Nia was already standing in front of the bathroom mirror.
Her cheek was still swollen.
She pressed a cold washcloth against it, then covered the redness with a little concealer.
Downstairs, the smell of bacon and fresh coffee filled the kitchen.
Brianna sat at the island, scrolling through her phone.
The stolen gown lay across the back of a dining chair.
Nia stopped at the doorway.
Seeing it there made her stomach tighten.
Brianna noticed her.
“Oh, good morning, Cinderella.””
Nia said nothing.
“Look what arrived yesterday,” Brianna continued, holding up her phone.
It was a photograph of the gown.
She had posted it online with the caption:
Custom-made couture for my graduation celebration. Sometimes dreams really do come true.
Nia stared at the screen.
“You posted my dress?””
Brianna took a sip of coffee.
“Why wouldn't I?””
“You didn't make it.””
“I don't see your name on it.””
“My name is on the competition registration.””
Brianna's expression flickered.
Vanessa entered carrying a folder.
“What's all this noise?””
“Your daughter posted my dress and is pretending she made it.””
Vanessa placed the folder on the counter.
“Brianna is simply showing off a beautiful outfit. Don't be dramatic.””
“It's my work.””
“Then you should be proud that your sister likes it.””
Nia looked at Vanessa.
“You hit me because I wouldn't give it to her.””
Vanessa's face hardened.
“Lower your voice.””
Brianna giggled.
“Mom, she's going to ruin my morning.””
Vanessa opened the refrigerator.
“Nia, if you have time to argue, you have time to clean the kitchen before school.””
Nia looked at the clock.
She had fifteen minutes.
“I have to leave.””
“Then get moving.””
Nia grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and left without another word.
Behind her, Brianna called out, “Don't forget to make something pretty for yourself!””
Her laughter followed Nia through the front door.
At school, Nia found Maya waiting beside her locker.
Maya's dark curls bounced as she hurried over.
“Show me your face.””
“It's fine.””
“That's not what I asked.””
Nia lowered her eyes.
Maya gently touched her arm.
“I'm serious. We can tell the school counselor.””
“Not yet.””
“Why not?””
“Because I need to concentrate on the competition.””
Maya studied her.
“You're really going to make another dress?””
“Yes.””
“From that sketch?””
Nia nodded.
Maya exhaled.
“Okay. Then we're going shopping.””
They spent lunch searching through discount fabric stores online. Unfortunately, the materials Nia needed were far beyond her budget.
The specialty silk alone cost more than she had saved in three months.
She had $186 in her sewing account.
The required materials would cost nearly $700.
Maya leaned over her laptop.
“What about your mother's old supplier?””
Nia looked up.
“Mr. Bennett?””
“Didn't he work with your mom?””
“He did. But I haven't spoken to him in years.””
“Then call him.””
Nia hesitated.
After Elaine died, Mr. Bennett had attended the funeral and given Nia a small sewing kit. Vanessa had later insisted that the family didn't need charity and had thrown most of his business cards away.
But Nia had kept one.
She found it inside her wallet.
The number was still readable.
That afternoon, after school, Nia called.
A familiar voice answered.
“Bennett Textiles. This is Samuel speaking.””
“Mr. Bennett? It's Nia Carter.””
There was a pause.
“Nia?””
“Yes, sir.””
“My goodness. How are you, sweetheart?””
Nia swallowed.
“I'm okay. I was wondering if you still had any of the specialty fabrics my mother used to order.””
“Elaine's fabrics?””
“Yes.””
“What are you making?””
“A couture competition gown.””
He chuckled warmly.
“I should have known. Your mother always said you'd become a designer.””
Nia looked down at the sketch in her notebook.
“I need something unusual. Metallic mesh, translucent silk, and possibly some structural organza.””
“That's an ambitious combination.””
“I know.””
“Come by tomorrow. I may have something in storage.””
Nia's heart lifted.
“Really?””
“Your mother once saved my business during a difficult year. I never forgot that.””
When she ended the call, Maya grinned.
“See? Things are looking up.””
Nia smiled.
But the biggest surprise was waiting at home.
She entered her bedroom and found the wooden box open.
Her stomach dropped.
The cream envelope was missing.
So was the second sketch.
Someone had been inside her room.
Nia searched beneath the table, inside her drawers, and behind the sewing machine.
Nothing.
Then she noticed a small piece of pink fabric caught beneath the wooden box.
Brianna's tracksuit.
Nia picked it up.
Her phone vibrated.
A notification appeared.
Brianna had uploaded another photograph.
This time, it showed the handwritten note from Elaine.
Never let anyone convince you that your wings belong to them.
Brianna had added a caption.
Found this cute little quote in my sister's room. Guess even she knows I'm destined for greatness.
Nia stared at the photograph.
Her mother's private words had become another decoration for Brianna's social media.
She called immediately.
Brianna answered on the fourth ring.
“What?””
“Delete that picture.””
“Which one?””
“The photograph of Mom's note.””
“Oh, that? It's just a piece of paper.””
“It's not yours.””
“Neither is the dress, apparently. Yet here we are.””
“Brianna, I'm warning you.””
Brianna laughed.
“You're warning me? What are you going to do? Sew me to death?””
Nia ended the call.
Her hands trembled.
She wanted to scream.
Instead, she took a photograph of the empty box and sent it to Maya.
Then she checked the box again.
At the bottom, beneath a loose wooden panel, her fingers found something unusual.
A small metal key.
It unlocked a hidden compartment.
Inside lay an old business card, a folded certificate, and a photograph of her mother standing beside a tall woman in a black designer suit.
On the back of the photograph, Elaine had written:
For Nia, when she's ready. Find Isabelle Monroe.
Nia turned the certificate over.
The heading read:
*THE ELAINE CARTER LEGACY DESIGN TRUST.*
Below it was a handwritten note.
The scholarship isn't the only door waiting for you. Your mother made arrangements before she passed.
Nia read it twice.
Then a third time.
She had never heard of the trust.
Why had her mother never told her?
Before she could examine the document further, she heard footsteps outside.
Vanessa knocked once and entered without waiting.
“What are you doing?””
Nia quickly folded the certificate.
“Looking for something.””
Vanessa's eyes moved toward the open wooden box.
“What's that?””
“Mom's things.””
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
“Those belongings should have been sorted years ago.””
“They're mine.””
“Your mother left those things to the family.””
“She left them to me.””
Vanessa stepped toward the table.
“Don't start.””
Nia held the certificate behind her back.
Vanessa noticed.
“What are you hiding?””
“Nothing.””
“Give it to me.””
“No.””
Vanessa's expression changed.
“You're becoming increasingly disrespectful.””
“And you're becoming increasingly comfortable taking things that don't belong to you.””
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Vanessa smiled coldly.
“Be careful, Nia. You don't have the money, the connections, or the influence to fight people like me.””
She turned and left.
Nia waited until the footsteps faded.
Then she opened her laptop and searched for Isabelle Monroe.
The results filled the screen.
Isabelle Monroe was the founder of Monroe Atelier, a celebrated American couture house. She had judged the Young American Couture Competition for the previous five years.
And there was something else.
A photograph showed Isabelle standing beside Nia's mother at a fashion exhibition twenty years earlier.
The caption read:
Elaine Carter and Isabelle Monroe, after presenting their collaborative collection.
Nia leaned closer.
Her mother had never mentioned working with one of America's most respected designers.
She clicked another result.
An old newspaper article appeared.
*LOCAL SEAMSTRESS TURNS DOWN INTERNATIONAL FASHION OFFER.*
The photograph showed Elaine smiling.
The article described how she had declined an opportunity to move to Paris and pursue an international career.
Nia's eyes filled with tears.
Her mother had possessed an entire world of possibilities.
And she had chosen to raise Nia instead.
A new email notification appeared.
It was from the Young American Couture Competition.
*Subject: Important Participant Information.*
Nia opened it.
The message contained the final submission requirements and a reminder that every garment must be an original creation by the registered designer.
Below that was an additional announcement.
Due to an unexpected schedule change, the competition's preliminary judging would take place five days earlier than originally planned.
Nia checked the date.
Her heart sank.
She had less than five days to finish the new gown.
Then another email arrived.
This one was from an unfamiliar address.
The subject line read:
*Elaine Carter's daughter. We need to talk.*
Nia opened it.
There was only one sentence.
Your mother left something important in my care, and I believe it's finally time you knew the truth.
May you like
It was signed:
*Isabelle Monroe.*
