Chapter 3: The Woman Behind the Theft
The ballroom no longer felt like a fashion competition.
It felt like a courtroom without a judge.
Guests stood in clusters, whispering behind champagne glasses. Photographers crowded near the runway. Security officers guarded the backstage entrance.
And in the center of it all stood Nia Carter, staring at a photograph of the one person she had never expected to see.
Vanessa Reed.
Her former business partner.
The woman who had once shared her tiny studio, borrowed her scissors, and slept on the floor beside her when they worked through the night before a collection deadline.
The woman who had disappeared eleven months earlier.
Nia swallowed.
"That's Vanessa.""
Judge Harris looked at her.
"You're certain?""
"I would recognize her anywhere.""
Brianna shook her head.
"Who is Vanessa?""
Nia turned toward her.
"Don't pretend you don't know.""
"I don't!""
"She was the only person outside my family who had access to my original sketches.""
Brianna's expression shifted.
"Then maybe you should be asking her questions instead of accusing me.""
Nia looked at the screen again.
The bracelet on Vanessa's wrist was silver, with a small red gemstone.
It had been a gift from Nia.
A thank-you present after their first successful collection.
Nia remembered the night she gave it to her.
They had been sitting on the floor of their studio, eating cold pizza from a cardboard box.
Vanessa had laughed and held up her wrist.
"One day, when we're famous, I'll wear this to every show.""
Nia had replied, "Then I guess we'll have to become famous.""
They had laughed.
They had believed each other.
Now that bracelet had appeared in a security image connected to stolen designs and missing family heirlooms.
Mr. Collins cleared his throat.
"We need to establish whether this image is authentic.""
The assistant nodded.
"It's from the hotel's internal security system. The timestamp and access records are being verified.""
Judge Harris looked at Brianna.
"Miss Vale, do you know Vanessa Reed?""
Brianna hesitated.
Then she nodded.
"She's a freelance consultant.""
Nia felt her stomach drop.
"A consultant?""
Brianna looked at her.
"She helped with the collection.""
"How long have you known her?""
"Several months.""
"Did she give you my designs?""
Brianna's face tightened.
"I bought some concept materials.""
Nia stared at her.
"You bought them?""
"Yes.""
"From Vanessa?""
"Yes.""
Nia stepped forward.
"Those designs weren't hers to sell!""
Brianna lifted her hands.
"I paid for what I was told was a legitimate design package.""
"Did you know she had stolen it?""
"No.""
"Did you know she had my grandmother's wedding veil?""
Brianna looked away.
That small movement was enough to make Nia's blood run cold.
Judge Harris noticed it too.
"Miss Vale?""
Brianna sighed.
"I knew Vanessa had some antique materials.""
"Where did she get them?"" Judge Harris asked.
"She said they were from an estate collection.""
Eleanor made a sharp sound.
"An estate collection?""
She stepped toward Brianna.
"That veil belonged to my daughter. My daughter is still alive. What kind of estate are you talking about?""
Brianna had no answer.
Nia turned toward her grandmother.
"Grandma, sit down.""
"I'm fine.""
"Please.""
Eleanor reluctantly took a chair near the judges' table.
Nia faced Brianna again.
"How much did you pay her?""
"That is private business.""
"How much?""
Brianna's jaw tightened.
"Forty thousand dollars.""
The number hit Nia like a slap.
Forty thousand dollars.
That was more than Nia had earned in the previous two years.
More than she had been able to borrow to expand her studio.
And Vanessa had sold her work for that amount.
"Did she sell you the entire collection?""
Brianna nodded reluctantly.
"Concepts, sketches, construction notes. Everything.""
Nia felt sick.
"You knew those designs had a creator.""
"I believed she had the rights.""
"Did you ever ask her for proof?""
Brianna didn't answer.
Nia laughed bitterly.
"Of course you didn't.""
Brianna's voice became defensive.
"Do you have any idea what it takes to build a luxury fashion label? Investors don't wait for you to finish learning how to run a business. You need collections.
You need publicity. You need something people remember.""
"So you stole mine?""
"I purchased designs.""
"Stolen designs.""
"I didn't know!""
Nia looked at the red gown.
"Then why is my grandmother's lace inside it?""
Brianna's silence was answer enough.
Judge Harris stood.
"We're not resolving this through shouting. I am suspending the judging process until we have verified ownership of the designs and the textile.""
Mr. Collins nodded.
"I'll contact the competition's legal adviser.""
Brianna looked horrified.
"You can't suspend my presentation.""
"I can," Collins replied.
"And I am.""
Brianna grabbed his sleeve.
"Mr. Collins, you promised the winner would be announced tonight. My investors are here.
My sponsors are here. Do you understand what this will do to me?""
He gently removed her hand.
"I understand that someone may have stolen another designer's work.""
Nia looked down at her hands.
They were shaking.
She hadn't realized how much she had wanted someone to say those words.
Someone may have stolen her work.
Not a misunderstanding.
Not inspiration.
Not coincidence.
Stolen.
For eleven months, she had wondered whether she was simply not good enough.
She had watched her designs appear in magazines under other people's names.
She had seen her ideas praised on social media while her own studio struggled to pay rent.
And every time she tried to explain, people called her bitter.
Now, for the first time, someone was listening.
But the discovery of Vanessa's involvement opened a new question.
Where had she gotten the lace?
Nia walked toward the backstage area.
A security guard blocked her.
"Sorry, ma'am. Nobody is allowed backstage.""
"I need to see the dress's inventory records.""
"Mr. Collins has to authorize that.""
Nia turned.
"Mr. Collins!""
The director approached.
"What is it?""
"I want to know who delivered Brianna's gown.""
Brianna immediately shook her head.
"That's irrelevant.""
Nia ignored her.
"The inventory tag says Archive 17. I want to know where that archive is.""
Judge Harris looked at the tag again.
"That number may refer to a storage facility.""
Dr. Grant nodded.
"Or a private textile collection.""
Eleanor suddenly raised her head.
"Archive 17.""
Everyone turned toward her.
She was staring at the tag.
Her face had become almost colorless.
"Grandma?"" Nia asked.
Eleanor pressed a hand against her chest.
"That number...""
She swallowed.
"I've heard it before.""
"Where?""
Eleanor looked at the embroidery.
"Your mother kept a notebook. She wrote down the number of every wedding veil I ever made for her clients.""
Nia frowned.
"Why?""
"Because she helped me organize my old work. She was afraid some of the pieces would be lost after I retired.""
Eleanor looked toward Judge Harris.
"Archive 17 was the collection where I stored the wedding pieces I had promised to preserve.""
Nia stared at her.
"How many?""
"Thirty-two.""
The number seemed to drain the air from the room.
"Thirty-two veils?"" Nia whispered.
Eleanor nodded.
"All handmade. Every one of them unique.""
Nia felt a chill move down her spine.
"Was my mother's veil the only one missing?""
Eleanor shook her head slowly.
"No.""
She looked at the red gown.
"Every single piece in that archive disappeared the night someone broke into my house.""
Brianna's eyes darted toward the exit.
Judge Harris noticed.
"Miss Vale, I strongly advise you not to leave.""
"I need to speak to my attorney.""
"That can wait.""
"No, it cannot.""
She reached for her handbag.
At that exact moment, a woman's voice came from the ballroom entrance.
"She doesn't need an attorney yet.""
Everyone turned.
A woman stood beneath the doorway lights.
She wore a white tailored suit, black heels, and the same silver bracelet with the red gemstone.
Vanessa Reed.
Nia couldn't move.
Vanessa looked older, more polished, and far more expensive than the woman she remembered.
But her smile was exactly the same.
The smile she used whenever she wanted someone to believe everything was under control.
"Nia," Vanessa said softly.
Nia's voice came out cold.
"Don't.""
Vanessa glanced at the gown.
Then at Brianna.
Then at the lace exposed beneath the neckline.
For the first time, her smile faltered.
"Oh," she whispered.
Judge Harris stepped forward.
"Miss Reed, we have several questions for you.""
Vanessa raised both hands.
"Of course. But before anyone starts making accusations, I think you should know something.""
She looked directly at Brianna.
Then she reached into her white handbag and removed a thick envelope.
"I have the original purchase agreement.""
Brianna's eyes widened.
"Vanessa, don't.""
Vanessa ignored her.
She placed the envelope on the judges' table.
"Forty thousand dollars was only the first payment.""
Nia stared at her.
"What does that mean?""
Vanessa slowly turned toward her.
"It means Brianna didn't just buy your red rose design.""
She opened the envelope and removed a document.
"She bought the rights to an entire collection.""
Nia's stomach tightened.
"What collection?""
Vanessa placed the document beneath the ballroom lights.
At the top was a familiar name.
*THE CARTER BRIDAL ARCHIVE.*
Eleanor gripped the edge of her chair.
"That collection was never for sale.""
Vanessa looked at her.
"I know.""
"Then why did you sell it?""
For a moment, Vanessa said nothing.
Then she looked at Nia.
"Because your grandmother wasn't the only person who had access to the archive.""
Nia felt the room tilt.
Vanessa leaned closer.
"And because the person who originally gave me those thirty-two veils...""
She paused.
"...was your own mother.""
*Nia stared at her, unable to breathe.*
Her mother had always said the veils were missing.
Her grandmother had spent seven years searching for them.
And now Vanessa was claiming that the theft had begun inside their own family.
Nia shook her head.
"You're lying.""
Vanessa slid one final photograph across the table.
It showed a woman standing beside thirty-two antique wedding veils.
On the back was a handwritten date.
Seven years earlier.
And beneath it, in unmistakable handwriting, were four words:
*For Vanessa. Keep them safe.*
Nia recognized the handwriting immediately.
It belonged to her mother.
But the signature beneath it was something else entirely.
May you like
A name Nia had never seen before.
A name that would change everything she believed about her family.
