Chapter 8: The Dress Was Never the Only Target
Mrs. Alvarez read the messages over my shoulder.
"Don't respond," she said.
"Save everything.""
I took screenshots and forwarded them to Patricia.
Then I called Brianna.
She answered on the fourth ring.
"What?""
"Did Mom submit the ownership agreement anywhere else?""
A long silence followed.
"Nia, I don't know.""
"Think carefully. Did you see any other paperwork with my name on it?""
I heard a door close on her end.
Then she whispered, "There was a folder in Mom's office. It had the competition papers, but there were other documents, too.""
"What documents?""
"I don't know. Something about a loan.""
My heart began to pound.
"Did she use my design as collateral?""
"I don't know what that means.""
"It means she might have promised my work to someone in exchange for money.""
Brianna went silent.
Then she said, "Meet me at the old community center at four. I found something you need to see.""
She hung up before I could ask another question.
At four o'clock, I arrived at the community center with Mrs. Alvarez waiting in her car across the street. Brianna stood near the entrance, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses.
She looked nothing like the confident girl who had carried my dress out of my sewing room.
Her shoulders were hunched. Her hands shook as she checked the parking lot.
"You came," she said.
"You said you found something.""
She pulled a folded document from her handbag.
"I took this from Mom's office last night.""
I opened it.
The first page was a financing agreement between Vanessa and a private fashion investor named Richard Hale. In exchange for a substantial advance, Vanessa had promised that Brianna would present an original design at the Rising Thread competition and enter negotiations for a future fashion collection.
That part was troubling enough.
But the second page was worse.
It listed the turquoise, violet, coral, and gold gown as the centerpiece of the proposed collection.
Beneath the description was a clause stating that the investor could seek repayment if the promised design could not be commercially presented.
My name appeared in the supporting documentation.
So did the forged ownership agreement.
I stared at Brianna.
"How much money did Mom borrow?""
"Thirty thousand dollars.""
The number seemed to echo between us.
"Thirty thousand?""
"She said it was an investment. She thought the competition would attract sponsors, and Richard would help me launch a collection.""
"With my design.""
Brianna looked down.
"Yes.""
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I folded the papers carefully.
"Why didn't you tell me before?""
"Because I thought I could win. I thought if I wore the dress and everyone loved it, Mom would pay him back, and no one would ask questions.""
"You knew you were taking credit for my work.""
"I know.""
"You watched her slap me.""
Brianna flinched.
"I know.""
"And you still walked away with my dress.""
Tears filled her eyes.
"I thought you would eventually forgive me. You've always been the one who fixes everything.""
I stared at her.
That was the cruelest thing she could have said.
Because she was right about one part.
For years, I had been the person who repaired torn sleeves, covered missed deadlines, cleaned up messes, and accepted apologies that never changed anything.
But I wasn't going to fix this for her.
"What do you expect me to do with these documents?"" I asked.
"Tell the committee. Tell them everything.""
"And what happens to you?""
Brianna wiped her face.
"I don't know.""
"You could be disqualified.""
"I deserve it.""
I hadn't expected her to say that.
For a moment, I saw the little girl she had once been, before Vanessa taught her that winning mattered more than honesty.
Then Brianna reached into her bag and pulled out a small velvet pouch.
Inside lay a gold embroidery needle and a tiny piece of turquoise thread.
"I took these from your sewing table the night we stole the dress," she said.
"I don't know why I kept them.""
I closed the pouch.
"They were my mother's.""
Brianna nodded, crying silently.
"I'm sorry.""
I wanted her apology to undo everything.
It couldn't.
But it could be the first honest thing she had given me in years.
I handed the documents to Mrs. Alvarez, who immediately photographed every page and sent the copies to Elena and Patricia.
Then she drove us to the competition office.
Patricia reviewed the financing agreement in silence.
When she finished, she looked at me.
"The committee cannot resolve the private financial dispute between your stepmother and Mr. Hale. But this document is relevant because it suggests your design was represented as an asset without your authorization.""
"Can they take my dress?"" I asked.
"Not on the strength of the competition entry alone. If someone presents a valid legal demand, that would need to be reviewed separately. We can't promise what a court or other authority might decide.""
My stomach tightened.
"So what do I do?""
"Preserve the evidence. Don't sign anything. And if anyone tries to intimidate you into surrendering the garment or withdrawing your claim, contact the appropriate authorities and seek qualified legal advice.""
Mrs. Alvarez placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You won't handle this alone.""
Patricia studied the financing agreement again.
"There is one more thing you should know. Mr. Hale has contacted us. He says he expects Brianna to appear at Saturday's event wearing the gown.""
"Does he know she didn't design it?""
"He claims he relied on the documents provided by Vanessa. We have not verified his account.""
I looked at the papers.
"Then he needs to know the truth.""
Patricia nodded.
"We will communicate with him through the appropriate channels.""
When we left the office, Brianna asked me to stop at a bench outside.
"I want to tell you something," she said.
I sat beside her, keeping the pouch in my pocket.
"Mom told me that if I won, we'd finally be able to move out of this house and get our own place.""
I frowned.
"Your own place?""
"She said Dad would never leave you behind if we stayed. She wanted me to become successful enough that she could start over without him.""
I stared at her.
"She planned to use the competition to leave Dad?""
Brianna nodded.
"She said he was weak and that she had spent years carrying him. She wanted the money, the contacts, everything.""
A cold realization settled over me.
Vanessa hadn't stolen my design simply to help her daughter.
She had used Brianna's ambition, my talent, and my father's fear to finance her own escape.
The dress was only the instrument.
The family was the collateral.
That evening, I returned to Mrs. Alvarez's house and began preparing for the emergency review scheduled for the next morning.
I arranged the sketches chronologically, printed the original registration, and labeled every photograph.
At midnight, I received a call from my father.
"Nia, you need to come home.""
"Why?""
"Vanessa has someone here asking for the dress.""
I stood so quickly that my chair fell backward.
"Who?""
"A man named Richard Hale. He says Vanessa promised him the gown and that he's entitled to collect it.""
"Don't give it to him.""
"I don't know what to do.""
"Call the police if he tries to force his way in. Don't sign anything.""
My father lowered his voice.
"Vanessa says she'll lose everything if we refuse.""
I closed my eyes.
"She should have thought about that before using my name.""
Then I heard a crash on the other end of the line.
My father shouted something I couldn't understand.
A man's voice answered.
And then my father whispered, "Nia, he's taken the garment bag.""
The call went dead.
I stared at my phone, my heart pounding.
My dress was gone again.
But this time, it wasn't Brianna carrying it away.
May you like
It was a man who believed he had paid for the right to own it.
And unless I could prove otherwise, he might never give it back.
