Chapter 4: The Woman Who Stole My Future
For almost a full minute, I couldn't move.
Vanessa Reed.
Her name sat at the bottom of the email like a threat.
The woman who had watched her daughter destroy my peace, who had struck me across the face, and who had carried my gown out of my bedroom was now claiming my design belonged to someone else.
My hands began to shake so badly that I nearly dropped my phone.
I called the competition coordinator.
A woman answered after two rings.
“Good evening, Young Creators Showcase. This is Eleanor Brooks speaking.””
“My name is Nia Carter,” I said.
“I received your email about my gown.””
“Yes, Nia. Thank you for calling back. I was hoping we could speak tonight.””
“Why is Vanessa Reed claiming my dress belongs to someone else?””
There was a pause.
“I understand this is upsetting,” Eleanor replied.
“Ms. Reed contacted one of our sponsors this afternoon. She represented herself as the creator of a gown that appears to match your submission.””
I closed my eyes.
“She didn't make it. I did.””
“Do you have evidence of your original work?””
“Yes. I have sketches. I have photographs.
I have the original submission from before the paint was thrown on it. I have pictures of the transformation.””
“That's a good start. Please send everything you have, including the dates if possible.””
I looked toward the staircase.
“They took the dress. I don't have it anymore.””
Another pause.
“They took it from you?””
“My stepmother and stepsister. They said my stepsister deserved it more.””
The words sounded even uglier when spoken aloud to a stranger.
Eleanor's voice softened.
“Nia, I'm sorry. But I need you to understand something. Because the gown is being disputed, the judges may postpone the final decision until we can establish who created it.””
“What happens if I can't get it back?””
“I can't promise you an outcome tonight. But the photographs and your original sketches may help. Send them as soon as you can.””
After the call ended, I sat at the kitchen table and opened my laptop.
My fingers moved automatically.
I found the photographs I had taken during the transformation. One showed the ruined gown spread across my worktable, blue paint dripping from the hem. Another showed the silver stitching halfway finished. A third captured the crystals laid out beside Mom's notebook.
I had taken them because I wanted to remember how the design had evolved.
Now they might be the only thing standing between me and the loss of everything I'd worked for.
I attached the photographs, scanned Mom's original sketches, and forwarded the competition's confirmation email.
Then I added one sentence.
I designed and constructed this gown myself. My stepmother and stepsister took it from my home without my permission.
I hit send.
My phone rang almost immediately.
Dad.
“Nia, what's going on?”” he demanded.
“Vanessa says you've been making accusations.””
I gripped the edge of the table.
“She stole my dress.””
“She said you gave Brianna permission to wear it.””
“I didn't!””
“Then why is everyone fighting?””
“Because I told them no, Dad! They unlocked my bedroom door, pulled the gown away from me, and Vanessa slapped me!””
Silence.
I heard a television playing in the background.
Then Dad spoke more quietly.
“Vanessa said you became hysterical and that she was trying to calm you down.””
I stared at the wall.
“Of course she did.””
“Nia, don't talk about her like that.””
“Why are you defending her?””
“I'm trying to understand what happened.””
“No, you're trying to find a version of what happened that doesn't make your wife look bad.””
He didn't answer.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Dad, please. I need you to come home. I need you to help me get my dress back.””
“I'll talk to Vanessa.””
“That's not what I asked.””
“Nia, I'm at work. I'll deal with this when I get home.””
The call ended.
I stared at my phone until the screen went dark.
Then I heard a car pull into the driveway.
Maya burst through the front door less than a minute later.
She found me sitting at the table, my laptop open, my cheek still red.
“Oh, Nia.””
She rushed over and wrapped her arms around me.
I tried to hold it together.
I really did.
But when she hugged me, I finally broke down.
“I did everything right,” I sobbed.
“I worked so hard. I fixed the dress. I submitted it. And now she's telling everyone it's hers.””
Maya held me tighter.
“Listen to me. They can take the dress. They can lie about it. But they can't make those photographs disappear.””
I wiped my face.
“What if the judges believe her?””
“Then we show them the truth.””
She pulled a chair beside mine and examined the pictures.
“Look at this one,” she said, pointing at the image of the ruined gown.
“The paint is still wet. The crystals aren't attached yet. This proves the dress changed over time.””
I nodded.
“And this picture shows you sewing the silver details. Your school laptop saves the dates on those files, right?””
“I think so.””
“Then we're going to find every piece of evidence we can.””
For the next hour, we worked side by side.
Maya helped me organize the photographs into folders. I found old pictures of myself measuring the original gown and videos of the sewing process. One video showed me explaining to Maya why I had chosen blue silk to complement the paint.
At the end of the video, I held up Mom's notebook.
“This is where the idea came from,” I had said.
Maya watched the clip twice.
“That's it,” she whispered.
“That's the proof.””
I sent everything to Eleanor.
Then Maya called her mother, who offered to drive us to the police station if needed.
I wasn't sure I wanted to involve the police.
They were my family, after all.
Even after everything, some part of me still wanted Dad to come home, tell Vanessa to return the gown, and admit that he'd failed to protect me.
I wanted a father.
Not a witness who needed convincing.
At nine thirty, the front door opened.
Dad walked in with Vanessa and Brianna.
Brianna was carrying a large garment bag.
My stomach dropped.
She had my dress.
Vanessa saw me at the table and smiled as if nothing had happened.
“Good. You're still awake.””
I stood.
“Give me my gown.””
Brianna held the garment bag behind her.
“It's mine now.””
“Brianna,” Dad said, sounding exhausted.
“Let's not start another argument.””
I looked at him.
“An argument? She stole my dress!””
Vanessa placed her purse on the counter.
“That's enough, Nia. Brianna has a formal event, and the gown suits her perfectly.””
“You didn't make it!””
“I supervised the process,” Vanessa replied smoothly.
“I contributed ideas. I helped her achieve the final result.””
Maya let out a disbelieving laugh.
“You weren't even in the room when she was sewing it.””
Vanessa turned toward her.
“This is a private family matter. You should leave.””
Maya stood her ground.
“Nia is my best friend. You hit her and stole her work. I'm not going anywhere until she says so.””
Dad raised his voice.
“Everyone, stop!””
The room fell silent.
He turned to Vanessa.
“Did you take the dress without Nia's permission?””
Vanessa's face softened into the expression she used whenever she wanted to appear wounded.
“I took it because Brianna was upset. Nia was being unreasonable. I thought a little time apart would help everyone calm down.””
“That's not an answer,” Dad said.
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
“Are you seriously going to interrogate me in front of a child?””
“I'm asking a question.””
“And I'm telling you I did what was best for this family.””
I stepped toward the garment bag.
“Give it back.””
Brianna pulled it away.
“No.””
“Please,” I said, my voice breaking.
“You already destroyed the first version. I worked all night to fix it. I need it for my competition.””
Brianna's expression changed.
“Competition?””
Vanessa looked sharply at her daughter.
Brianna went quiet.
I stared at them.
“You knew, didn't you? You knew I had submitted the gown.””
Vanessa lifted her chin.
“Brianna has every right to pursue opportunities, too.””
“Then why are you pretending she made my dress?””
Vanessa didn't answer.
Dad looked between us.
“What does she mean?””
Before Vanessa could speak, Brianna pulled out her phone.
“Fine. Since everyone wants the truth, let's tell the truth.””
She tapped the screen and held it toward Dad.
It was a photograph of my gown.
My stomach twisted.
Underneath the image was a message from Vanessa to a woman whose contact name read Eleanor Brooks — Showcase.
The message said:
My daughter Brianna Reed created this design. We believe another student may have copied her work.
Dad looked up slowly.
“Vanessa, what is this?””
Vanessa reached for the phone.
“Give me that.””
Brianna stepped back.
“You told me this was fine! You said we could tell the judges I designed it because I was the one wearing it!””
Vanessa's face drained of color.
I felt the room tilt.
She hadn't merely stolen my gown.
She had planned to steal my future.
Dad took the phone from Brianna and read the message again.
“Vanessa?””
His voice was barely recognizable.
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
Finally, she said, “I was trying to help my daughter.””
I looked at the garment bag.
The crystals and silk inside represented months of work, memories of my mother, and the first real opportunity I'd ever had to prove myself.
I took a step toward Vanessa.
“You could have asked me to help Brianna make her own dress.””
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Why should my daughter have to beg you for anything?””
“Because it's mine!””
“Enough!”” she shouted.
“You have your father's house, your father's money, and his sympathy. Brianna has had to fight for every little thing she's ever received.””
I stared at her.
“I'm seventeen. I work weekends to buy fabric. I made that gown with my own hands.””
Vanessa pointed at me.
“And now you're using it to make my daughter look bad.””
Dad put the phone down.
“Vanessa, give Nia her dress.””
For a moment, I thought the nightmare was finally ending.
Then Vanessa took the garment bag from Brianna and held it close to her chest.
“No.””
Dad stared at her.
“What did you say?””
“I said no. Brianna needs this gown. She has an important event, and I'm not going to let Nia ruin it out of jealousy.””
I looked at Dad.
He looked at Vanessa.
And I watched him make the choice that would change our family forever.
He stepped away from the garment bag.
“Nia,” he said quietly, “maybe you should let Brianna wear it for the evening. We can work out the rest later.””
My heart shattered.
Maya grabbed my hand.
“No,” she whispered.
“Don't let him do this to you.””
I looked at my father.
“You want me to give her the dress?””
“I want everyone to calm down.””
“You want me to pretend this is normal?””
He rubbed his face.
“Please, Nia. Don't make me choose between my wife and my daughter.””
The words hung in the air.
I felt something inside me go very still.
“You already chose,” I whispered.
I turned away from him.
My phone vibrated on the table.
An email from Eleanor Brooks appeared.
Dear Nia,
We have reviewed the additional evidence you submitted. However, Ms. Reed has informed us that she will be attending tomorrow's final-round presentation with the gown and expects to receive credit for its creation.
We would like to invite you to attend as well so that we may resolve this dispute in person.
I read the message twice.
Then I looked at Vanessa.
She was smiling.
She thought she had won.
But there was one thing she didn't know.
The competition had asked me to attend.
May you like
And I was going to walk into that room with every piece of evidence I had.
Even if I had to face my entire family to tell the truth.
