Chapter 5: The Dress That Exposed a Thief
The next morning, Nia woke to the sound of someone pounding on her bedroom door.
“Nia! Get up!””
She checked her phone.
6:02 a.m.
Vanessa was already shouting.
“Your school called!””
Nia opened the door cautiously.
“What happened?””
Vanessa held up her phone.
“Apparently, someone has been telling people that I stole money from your mother's trust.””
Nia's stomach tightened.
“I haven't told anyone at school.””
“Then who did?””
“I don't know.””
Vanessa shoved the phone toward her.
A message from the school counselor was visible.
We would like to arrange a meeting regarding concerns about a student's safety and financial circumstances.
Nia stared.
She had not contacted the counselor yet.
Maya must have done it.
Vanessa noticed her expression.
“You told someone.””
Nia said nothing.
“You think you can turn people against me?””
“I didn't tell anyone to do anything.””
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Listen carefully. I have provided for you since your mother died. I gave you a home.
I fed you. I paid for your schooling.””
“You were supposed to.””
Vanessa's eyes widened.
“What did you say?””
“I said taking care of a child isn't a favor when you're the adult responsible for her.””
For a moment, Vanessa looked as though she might strike her again.
Instead, she pointed down the hallway.
“Get ready for school. And don't mention the trust to anyone.””
Nia closed the door.
Her hands were shaking, but she smiled faintly.
Vanessa was losing control.
And that meant the truth was getting closer.
At school, Maya was waiting beside Nia's locker.
“I contacted Ms. Reynolds,” she said.
Nia looked around.
“You didn't have to do that.””
“Yes, I did.””
Maya opened her phone.
“I told her about the slap and the dress. I didn't mention the financial documents because I didn't want to share something you hadn't decided to disclose.””
Nia hugged her.
“Thank you.””
“You're welcome. Now, how's the Phoenix gown?””
Nia opened her sketchbook.
“Not good.””
Maya frowned.
“What do you mean?””
“I've got the base structure, but the fabric isn't behaving the way I expected.””
They hurried to the art room during lunch.
Nia spread the translucent silk across a large worktable.
The fabric was beautiful but difficult to control. Every time she tried to shape the sculptural train, it collapsed.
Maya watched her struggle with the wire frame.
“Maybe the support needs to be underneath instead of inside.””
Nia paused.
She examined the structure.
Then she smiled.
“Wait. You're right.””
She moved the support rods and secured them beneath the organza layers.
The fabric lifted.
A graceful, floating shape emerged.
Maya's mouth fell open.
“Oh, Nia.””
Nia stepped back.
For the first time, the dress looked like the sketch.
The metallic embroidery would still take hours, but the foundation was finally working.
She took photographs from every angle.
Then she opened her competition registration account.
A warning notification appeared.
*Submission status: Under Review.*
Nia frowned.
She clicked it.
A message explained that a complaint had been filed alleging that her entry was not entirely original.
The complaint included photographs of Brianna wearing the stolen white-and-blue gown.
Nia felt her stomach drop.
Someone had submitted a claim that Brianna was the designer.
And the complaint had been signed by Vanessa.
Maya stared at the screen.
“She actually did that?””
Nia scrolled further.
The competition committee had requested evidence proving the gown's original creation.
A deadline was listed.
Thirty-six hours.
Nia's face went pale.
“They're trying to disqualify me.””
Maya grabbed her hand.
“Then we give them proof.””
They began assembling everything.
Photographs of the original gown during construction.
Receipts for materials.
Early sketches.
Videos showing Nia sewing the bodice.
Messages discussing the design with Maya.
The registration confirmation.
Everything.
By the time school ended, they had created a detailed digital portfolio.
Nia sent it to the competition committee.
Then she called Isabelle.
“I need help.””
Isabelle listened carefully.
“Send me the complaint and your evidence.””
Nia did.
Ten minutes later, Isabelle called back.
“This is more serious than I expected.””
“Can they disqualify me?””
“Not if we establish the facts. But I want you to understand something. The committee needs evidence, not family arguments.””
“I have photographs from every stage.””
“Excellent. We'll submit a formal response.””
Nia exhaled.
“Thank you.””
“And Nia?””
“Yes?””
“Don't stop sewing.””
At home, Brianna was preparing for her graduation dinner.
Her bedroom looked like a boutique.
Shoes covered the floor. Makeup palettes covered the dressing table. Two stylists moved around her while Vanessa inspected the stolen gown.
Nia stood in the doorway.
“You filed a complaint against me.””
Vanessa didn't turn.
“I'm protecting my daughter's reputation.””
“You signed a document claiming Brianna designed my dress.””
Brianna looked up from her makeup mirror.
“Because I did design it.””
Nia stared at her.
“You can't even thread a sewing machine.””
“That's not true!””
“Then show me how to make a French seam.””
Brianna's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Vanessa stepped between them.
“Enough. Leave.””
Nia held up her phone.
“The competition has my construction photographs. They can see every stage.””
Vanessa's expression tightened.
“Those photographs prove nothing.””
“They prove I made the dress.””
“They prove you were around the dress.””
Nia looked at Brianna.
“Do you really want to do this?””
Brianna shrugged.
“I'm wearing it tomorrow. Everyone will see how beautiful it is.””
Nia's voice became quiet.
“Everyone will also see that you stole it.””
Brianna laughed.
“Who are they going to believe? A girl who lives in a tiny bedroom and makes clothes from scraps, or me?””
Nia didn't answer.
She turned and left.
But as she walked upstairs, she heard Brianna say something to Vanessa.
“What if they ask me to prove I made it?””
Vanessa answered immediately.
“They won't.””
Nia stopped.
Then Vanessa added:
“And if they do, I'll handle it.””
Nia quietly recorded the final few seconds on her phone.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
The following afternoon, Isabelle arrived at the Carter house.
Nia was shocked to see her standing at the front door with a leather portfolio.
“Isabelle?””
“May I come in?””
Vanessa appeared from the living room.
Her face changed instantly.
“You.””
Isabelle gave her a polite smile.
“Vanessa. It's been a long time.””
“This is my home.””
“And Nia is my friend's daughter.””
Vanessa stepped aside reluctantly.
Isabelle placed the portfolio on the dining table.
“I represent the Elaine Carter Legacy Design Trust. We need to discuss several financial irregularities.””
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“I don't discuss private family matters with outsiders.””
“Then perhaps you'll prefer discussing them with the trust's attorney.””
Isabelle opened the portfolio.
The first document was a transaction report.
The second was a signed withdrawal authorization.
The third was a property purchase record.
Nia leaned closer.
The property was a luxury apartment in the city.
Its purchase date matched one of the largest withdrawals from her mother's trust.
Vanessa's face went white.
“That has nothing to do with Nia.””
Isabelle calmly placed another document on the table.
“The apartment was purchased under an account registered to your company.””
Vanessa grabbed the paper.
“That's impossible.””
“Would you like me to explain the banking trail?””
Vanessa's voice rose.
“You have no right to investigate me!””
Isabelle remained calm.
“The trust has every right to investigate how its funds were used.””
Brianna appeared at the stairs.
“Mom? What's going on?””
Vanessa quickly gathered the documents.
“Nothing. Go upstairs.””
“But—”
“NOW!””
Brianna disappeared.
Isabelle stood.
“We'll be in touch.””
As she turned toward the door, Vanessa spoke.
“You always thought Elaine was better than me.””
Isabelle stopped.
“No. Elaine simply wanted to be treated fairly.””
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Fairness never paid the bills.””
Isabelle looked at her.
“Neither does stealing.””
Then she left.
Nia followed her outside.
“Isabelle, will she be arrested?””
“That depends on what the investigation finds.””
“What if she destroys the records?””
Isabelle handed Nia a business card.
“Everything has already been copied. Don't confront her alone again.””
Nia nodded.
Then Isabelle looked toward the house.
“One more thing. I spoke with the competition committee.””
“And?””
“They have accepted your evidence.””
Nia's eyes widened.
“I'm still in?””
“Yes. But they want to examine the original gown and interview the person who submitted the complaint.””
Nia's smile returned.
“Then Brianna will have to explain everything.””
Isabelle nodded.
“Exactly.””
That evening, Brianna entered Nia's room without knocking.
She wore the stolen gown.
The white silk shimmered under the bedroom light.
“Look,” she said, turning in front of the mirror.
Nia looked up from her sewing machine.
“Take it off.””
Brianna laughed.
“You're obsessed.””
“It's my work.””
“It's my dress now.””
Nia noticed something strange.
A dark stain ran along the lower edge of the train.
“What happened?””
Brianna glanced down.
“Oh, that? The cleaner said it was probably an old mark.””
Nia stood.
“That wasn't there before.””
“Don't worry. Mom said she knows someone who can fix it.””
Nia examined the stain.
It wasn't dirt.
It was a chemical burn.
The silk had been damaged.
“Who cleaned it?””
“Why?””
“What did they use?””
Brianna rolled her eyes.
“Some expensive cleaning product.””
Nia's stomach tightened.
The blue pigment in the dress had been specially treated. Certain solvents would permanently damage it.
“You ruined it.””
Brianna's smile disappeared.
“Don't be ridiculous.””
Nia looked at the gown.
Four months of work.
Now stained, damaged, and stretched from being worn carelessly.
She felt the old anger rising.
But then she noticed something near the waist.
A small white label had been sewn into the lining.
Her signature.
And beneath it, a registration number.
The competition committee had required all contestants to include a hidden identification label.
Brianna had never noticed it.
Nia smiled faintly.
“Thank you.””
Brianna frowned.
“For what?””
“For wearing it.””
Before Brianna could respond, Nia took a photograph of the label.
Then she photographed the damaged silk.
She sent both images to Isabelle.
A reply arrived less than a minute later.
Excellent. Preserve the garment exactly as it is. Do not let anyone alter it.
Nia looked at Brianna.
“Tomorrow is going to be interesting.””
Brianna scoffed.
“Tomorrow is my graduation dinner.””
May you like
Nia turned back to her sewing machine.
“And that's exactly where everyone will see the truth.””
