Chapter 4: The Paint That Couldn't Hide the Truth
For three seconds, I couldn't move.
The photograph on my phone showed my crimson rose wings spread across a backstage table. The fluorescent rose beneath the petals had been covered with thick, ugly strokes of black paint. Someone had tried to erase the initials E.R. and the name NIA from the fabric.
Someone had known exactly where to strike.
Then another message appeared.
*UNKNOWN:* Withdraw now. You still have time to avoid embarrassing yourself.
I looked toward the lighting booth.
Vanessa was no longer there.
The audience applauded as the host welcomed everyone to the annual Halloween Spectacular. Orange and purple lights swept across the auditorium, and the opening music thundered through the speakers.
I slipped my phone into my pocket.
My hands were trembling, but something inside me had changed.
Vanessa had made a mistake.
She had been so determined to stop me from exposing the theft that she had created another piece of evidence. Someone had taken the wings out of Brianna's possession, altered them, and photographed the result before sending the image to me.
If I could establish who had done it, the attempted cover-up might become even harder to deny.
I hurried toward the technical booth.
Mr. Collins stood behind the lighting console, speaking to a young technician named Ethan. He glanced up when he saw me.
“Nia? You're supposed to be in the contestant holding area.””
“Someone painted over my signature.””
His expression changed immediately.
“What?””
I showed him the photograph.
He examined it, then looked toward the backstage corridor.
“Where did you get this?””
“An unknown number sent it to me.””
“Do you know who has access to your costume?””
“Brianna has it. Vanessa has been helping her prepare.””
Ethan leaned closer to the screen.
“That looks like the black textile paint from the prop room.””
Mr. Collins turned toward him.
“Are you sure?””
“Pretty sure. We used the same brand on the fake gravestones this afternoon.””
I looked between them.
“Can we check who entered the prop room?””
Mr. Collins hesitated.
“We can review the backstage access log. But Nia, I need you to understand that we can't turn this event into an investigation while the show is running.””
“I don't want you to stop the show. I want you to preserve the evidence.””
He considered that, then nodded.
“Ethan, check the access records. Don't touch the wings if you find them. I'll speak to the event manager.””
Ethan hurried away.
Mr. Collins lowered his voice.
“Are you still planning to compete?””
I looked toward the stage.
The first contestant was walking down the runway in a spectacular skeleton gown. The audience cheered as she turned beneath the lights.
“Yes.””
“Even if the signature has been damaged?””
“Especially because it's been damaged.””
He studied me for a moment.
“Then go prepare. I'll make sure your complaint is documented.””
I returned to the holding area.
Maya was waiting beside my rose crown, her face pale with anger.
“Please tell me you didn't see that photograph alone.””
“I showed Mr. Collins.””
“Good. Because if I see Vanessa, I might say something that gets us escorted out.””
I handed her my phone.
She stared at the painted wings.
“They actually did it.””
“Yes.””
“Can they even repair that?””
“Not before the show.””
Maya looked at my portfolio.
“Then what are you going to present?””
I opened the first page.
The sketches were there. So were the receipts, the photographs, and the detailed construction notes. The evidence hadn't been touched.
“I'll present the design.””
“But the wings are the whole thing.””
“No. The wings are the result of the work. The design is the work.””
Maya's expression softened.
“You sound like your mom.””
I looked down before she could see my eyes fill with tears.
The host announced the second contestant.
I had less than ten minutes before my presentation.
I adjusted the black dress I'd chosen as a simple backdrop for my portfolio. It had no elaborate decorations, no dramatic wings, and no expensive accessories. I'd bought it from a thrift store two years earlier and altered it myself.
My crimson rose crown rested on my head.
Maya straightened one of its copper stems.
“Remember,” she whispered, “you don't need to be louder than them. You just need to be heard.””
The stage manager appeared.
“Nia, you're next.””
I took a breath and stepped toward the curtain.
From the narrow opening, I could see Brianna waiting near the opposite entrance. She had removed her robe, revealing the costume in all its stolen glory.
The wings looked magnificent beneath the warm stage lights.
The black paint was invisible from the audience.
Brianna stood with her chin raised, smiling as the host introduced her.
“And now,” he announced, “please welcome Brianna Hayes, presenting her original creation, The Crimson Rose Angel!”
The audience applauded.
Brianna walked onto the stage.
She moved slowly, spreading the wings as the music rose. The crimson petals shimmered beneath the spotlights, and a ripple of admiration passed through the crowd.
I watched from behind the curtain, my stomach twisting.
She was good at this.
She knew exactly how to tilt her head, when to turn, and how to hold the wings so the light caught the silver beads. Vanessa stood near the front row, recording every second.
The host approached Brianna.
“That's a stunning piece. Tell us about the inspiration behind your design.””
Brianna smiled into the microphone.
“I wanted to explore the idea of beauty growing from darkness. Every rose was carefully placed by hand, and the wings were designed to symbolize rebirth.””
I closed my eyes briefly.
Every rose had been carefully placed by hand.
Mine.
The host continued.
“How long did it take you to create this?””
“Almost a month,” Brianna replied.
“It was a very personal project.””
The audience applauded again.
Then a judge asked, “Did you create the framework yourself?””
“Yes.””
“Even the hinges?””
“Every part.””
A murmur of appreciation moved through the room.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the curtain.
The host smiled.
“Ladies and gentlemen, one more round of applause for Brianna!””
The applause grew louder.
Brianna bowed.
As she turned, her gaze found mine through the curtain.
She smiled.
Not a nervous smile. Not the smile of someone who feared being discovered.
It was a triumphant smile.
She believed she had won.
Then the stage manager touched my shoulder.
“Your turn.””
I walked onto the stage.
For a moment, the lights were so bright that I couldn't see the audience clearly. I heard scattered applause, then the soft murmur of people trying to understand why I wasn't wearing an elaborate costume.
I placed my portfolio on the presentation stand.
“Good evening,” I said.
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted, so I gripped the microphone with both hands.
“My entry is called The Rose That Remembers. It's about the things we leave behind when we create something, and the parts of ourselves that remain even when someone tries to take our work away.””
The audience became quiet.
I opened the portfolio.
The first page showed the original sketch of the crimson rose angel. Beneath it were my handwritten measurements and a drawing of the copper hinges.
“I began this design three weeks ago. I chose crimson silk because I wanted the roses to look alive under stage lighting. The wings were built around a lightweight frame, with each petal stitched and shaped individually.””
I held up a photograph of the finished costume on my mannequin.
A few people in the audience leaned forward.
“Every part of this design was made by hand. I documented the process because I wanted to include it in my portfolio.””
The judge seated in the middle raised her hand.
“Are you the creator of the costume Brianna presented?””
The question struck the room like a dropped glass.
I looked toward the judges.
“Yes.””
A whisper spread through the audience.
The host shifted his weight.
“That's a serious claim. Do you have evidence?””
“Yes.””
I placed the photographs on the stand.
“These show the wings at different stages of construction. I also have the original sketches, the receipts for the materials, and the design notes.””
The judge studied the photographs.
“Why isn't the costume here?””
I took a breath.
“Because my stepsister took it from my bedroom without my permission.””
A sharp gasp came from somewhere in the crowd.
Near the front row, Vanessa stood abruptly.
“That's a lie!””
Her voice carried through the auditorium.
The host turned toward her.
“Ma'am, please allow the judges to finish.””
Vanessa remained standing.
“She's trying to destroy Brianna's moment because she's jealous!””
I looked at my stepmother.
For years, I had imagined what I would say if she ever challenged me in front of other people.
I had rehearsed speeches in my head, each one sharper than the last.
But standing under the lights, I realized I didn't need a speech.
I needed the truth.
“I have no objection to the judges examining my evidence,” I said.
“I only ask that the same opportunity be given to both contestants.””
The judge nodded.
“That is reasonable.””
Vanessa sat down, but her hands were clenched in her lap.
The host turned toward me.
“Thank you, Nia. The judges will review your documentation.””
I closed the portfolio.
My presentation was over.
As I stepped away from the microphone, the audience applauded. It wasn't the thunderous response Brianna had received, but it was genuine.
A woman in the second row stood and clapped harder.
Then another person joined her.
I walked backstage with my chin raised.
Maya met me at the curtain and grabbed both my hands.
“You did it.””
“I don't know if it was enough.””
“You told the truth in front of everyone. That's enough for this moment.””
We were halfway down the corridor when Ethan hurried toward us.
“I found something.””
Mr. Collins followed him, carrying a clipboard.
Ethan looked breathless.
“The prop-room log shows someone entered at 4:12 p.m. The person used a temporary staff badge.””
“Who?”” I asked.
“We're checking the sign-out sheet. But there's something else.””
He turned the clipboard toward Mr. Collins.
“The wings were moved from the contestant dressing room to the prop room before the photograph was taken.””
Mr. Collins frowned.
“Who authorized that?””
“No one on the official list.””
I felt cold spread through my chest.
Someone had gone out of their way to hide the costume, paint over my signature, and send me a warning.
“Can we see the access footage?”” I asked.
Mr. Collins shook his head.
“Not without the event manager. The camera system is controlled by the venue.””
“Then let's ask.””
He looked at me carefully.
“Nia, this may become a formal complaint. If we find evidence of deliberate interference, the organizers will have to decide what action to take.””
“I understand.””
“Are you prepared for the possibility that the person responsible might be someone you know?””
I thought of Vanessa standing beside the lighting booth. Brianna smiling onstage. My father looking away at breakfast.
“Yes,” I said.
“I think I already know.””
At that moment, the host's voice echoed through the auditorium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we're taking a short intermission before our final presentations!””
Applause filled the hall.
Then the backstage door opened.
Vanessa stood there.
Her expression was composed, but her eyes were hard.
“Nia,” she said.
“We need to talk.””
Maya stepped in front of me.
“She has nothing to say to you.””
Vanessa ignored her.
“Alone.””
I looked at Mr. Collins.
He nodded toward a small meeting room beside the corridor.
“The door stays open,” he said.
“And I'll remain nearby.””
Vanessa gave him a tight smile.
“That's unnecessary.””
“It's my event,” he replied.
“I decide what's necessary.””
For the first time that evening, Vanessa looked genuinely unsettled.
She entered the meeting room.
I followed.
She turned toward me before I had even closed the door.
“You have absolutely no idea what you've done.””
I set my portfolio on the table.
“I told the truth.””
“You accused your own sister of theft in front of hundreds of people.””
“She stole my costume.””
“You could have handled this privately.””
“I tried.””
Vanessa's face reddened.
“You should have accepted that Brianna was wearing it. She's more confident than you, and she knows how to make an impression. You would have ruined the evening by insisting on your little claim.””
“My little claim?””
“You heard me.””
I looked at her for a long moment.
Then I asked the question that had haunted me since I found my empty wardrobe.
“Why did you do it?””
She stared at me.
“What?””
“You knew how much work I put into that costume. You saw me making it. Why did you help Brianna take it?””
Vanessa's expression flickered.
For one brief moment, I saw something beneath the anger.
Fear.
Then it vanished.
“Because Brianna deserved one night where everyone looked at her.””
“And I didn't?””
“You always have to make everything about yourself.””
I shook my head.
“No. You made it about her when you took my work and called it hers.””
Vanessa stepped closer.
“You think the judges will save you? You think your father will choose you over his wife?””
I didn't answer.
She leaned toward me.
“Let me tell you what happens next. Brianna finishes the competition. She receives her award.
You apologize for causing a scene. And tomorrow, everyone moves on.””
“And the costume?””
“You'll get over it.””
I looked at the woman who had stolen so many small pieces of my life that I had once believed losing them was normal.
Then I said, “You should be worried about the person who painted over my signature.””
Vanessa went completely still.
Her eyes darted toward the open doorway.
It was the smallest movement, but it told me everything.
She knew who had done it.
Before I could ask another question, a voice sounded from the corridor.
“Vanessa?””
My father.
She turned sharply.
Daniel stood in the doorway, still wearing his office suit. His tie was loosened, and he held his phone in one hand.
He looked from Vanessa to me, then down at the portfolio.
“What is going on?””
Vanessa immediately changed her expression.
“Daniel, thank goodness you're here. Nia is making outrageous accusations, and I've been trying to calm her down.””
My father looked at me.
“Is that true?””
I opened my mouth.
Vanessa answered first.
“She claims Brianna stole her costume. She's trying to ruin the competition because she can't stand seeing her sister succeed.””
I watched my father absorb the words.
Then I noticed something strange.
He wasn't looking at Vanessa.
He was looking at the photograph of the painted wings on my phone, which I had left on the table.
His face drained of color.
“Nia,” he whispered, “where did you get that picture?””
I picked up the phone.
“Someone sent it to me.””
He stared at the black paint across the fabric.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
For the first time that evening, he didn't appear confused.
He appeared afraid.
“Vanessa,” he said slowly, “tell me you didn't—”
She reached for his arm.
“Daniel, not here.””
He pulled away.
And in that instant, I realized my father knew something about the costume that neither Brianna nor Vanessa had told me.
May you like
Something that had nothing to do with the competition.
Something that made him look at my mother's initials as if he had just seen a ghost.
