Chapter 2: The Morning Everything Changed
The first warning came on a Thursday afternoon.
I returned from school and found Brianna standing in my bedroom doorway.
She was holding my sketchbook.
My stomach tightened.
“Put that down.””
She ignored me, flipping through the pages with her glossy pink nails.
“Oh, this is the famous competition dress?””
“Brianna, give it back.””
She stopped at a drawing of The Last Light.
“Mom says the scholarship would be wasted on you anyway.””
I crossed the room and took the sketchbook from her hands.
“Get out.””
Her smile disappeared.
“You really think you're going to win?””
“I know I have a chance.””
She stared at me for a moment, her expression turning cold.
“Enjoy it while you can.””
Then she walked away.
I locked my bedroom door and immediately checked the garment bag hanging behind my wardrobe.
The dress was still there.
I unzipped the bag and examined the bodice, the hem, and every tiny hand-stitched star.
Nothing was missing.
Nothing had been damaged.
I told myself Brianna was simply trying to frighten me.
That evening, I photographed the gown again and uploaded the pictures to my private portfolio. I placed my design registration certificate inside a folder and hid it beneath my mattress.
I had no idea that Vanessa had been watching me for weeks.
I didn't know Brianna had already told her mother about the competition.
And I certainly didn't know what they were planning downstairs.
I discovered the first piece of their scheme the following morning.
Vanessa was waiting beside the breakfast table, dressed in a cream-colored suit. Her diamond bracelet glittered beneath the chandelier.
“Sit down, Nia,” she said.
I stopped near the doorway.
“I'm going to be late for school.””
“This will only take a moment.””
Brianna sat beside her, scrolling through her phone. She didn't look up, but I noticed the little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
I sat.
Vanessa folded her hands on the table.
“Your father and I have been discussing your future.””
My heart sank.
Whenever Vanessa used that particular tone, she had already decided what everyone else was supposed to do.
“Okay,” I said cautiously.
“We think this fashion competition is becoming an unhealthy obsession.””
I stared at her.
“It's an opportunity to earn a scholarship.””
“It's an opportunity to embarrass yourself if you're not prepared for the realities of the industry.””
“I've prepared for months.””
“And you've neglected other responsibilities.””
“What responsibilities?””
Vanessa's smile tightened.
“Helping around the house. Spending time with your family. Making sensible decisions.””
Brianna finally looked up.
“Honestly, Nia, it's not like one dress is going to change your life.””
I turned toward her.
“Then why do you care so much about it?””
Her expression flickered.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Vanessa stood and walked toward the kitchen counter, where a folder lay beside her handbag.
“There's another matter,” she said.
She opened the folder and removed a printed photograph.
My breath caught.
It showed The Last Light hanging inside my bedroom.
The picture had been taken from the doorway.
Someone had photographed my dress without my permission.
“Where did you get that?”” I demanded.
“Your sister showed me.””
“Why?””
“Because we wanted to understand what you've been working on.””
“You could have asked me.””
Vanessa ignored that.
She placed the photograph on the table and tapped it with one manicured finger.
“Brianna has an upcoming fashion presentation through one of her social programs. She needs something exceptional to wear.””
I stared at her, waiting for the rest.
Then she said it.
“We've decided you should let her use your dress.””
For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misunderstood.
“Let her use it?””
“Temporarily,” Vanessa replied.
“She'll return it afterward.””
“No.””
The word escaped before I could soften it.
Vanessa's eyebrows rose.
“Excuse me?””
“I made that dress for the competition. It's registered under my name. I'm not giving it to Brianna.””
Brianna dropped her phone onto the table.
“You don't have to act like I'm stealing your precious little masterpiece.””
“Then you shouldn't have asked for it.””
“I didn't ask!””
“You're both telling me to hand over something I spent months making.””
Vanessa's face hardened.
“Watch your tone.””
I stood.
“You can't just decide that everything I create belongs to Brianna.””
“No one said it belongs to her,” Vanessa snapped.
“We're asking you to be generous.””
“Then ask her to make her own dress.””
The silence that followed was so sharp that I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.
Brianna's cheeks flushed.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“You seem to have forgotten who provides the roof over your head.””
My hands began to shake.
I hated that she could still frighten me with those words.
“I know Dad provides the roof over my head,” I answered.
“That doesn't mean you own my work.””
Her eyes narrowed.
“Your father would be very disappointed to hear you speak about this family that way.””
“Then let him decide.””
For the first time, Vanessa looked genuinely angry.
“Fine. We'll discuss it with Marcus tonight.””
She gathered the photograph and folder, then turned away as if the conversation had ended.
Brianna leaned back in her chair.
“Big mistake, Nia.””
I grabbed my schoolbag.
“What's that supposed to mean?””
She shrugged.
“Nothing.””
But when I walked past her, she added quietly, “You should have just given it to me.””
I spent the entire school day distracted.
During lunch, Mrs. Ellis noticed me staring at the same page of my notebook.
“What's wrong?””
I hesitated before telling her about Vanessa's demand.
Mrs. Ellis listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she looked concerned.
“Your design is registered, correct?””
“Yes.””
“And you have photographs of the construction process?””
“Every stage.””
“Keep copies somewhere safe. And don't surrender the original gown to anyone.””
Her words made the uneasiness in my stomach grow.
“You think they'll actually take it?””
“I think you should protect your work as carefully as you protect your dreams.””
That afternoon, I made digital copies of my registration certificate and emailed them to myself. I also saved my original sketches, progress photographs, and receipts for the materials I had purchased.
Then I went home and hid the folder in a different place.
I should have told Dad everything immediately.
But I wanted to believe he would understand without forcing me to explain why my stepsister's demands frightened me.
I wanted him to remember the little girl who used to sit beside her mother's sewing machine.
Instead, when I came downstairs that evening, he was already waiting at the dining table.
Vanessa sat beside him.
Brianna sat opposite me, wearing a white blouse and a look of exaggerated innocence.
Dad gestured toward an empty chair.
“Nia, we need to talk about the dress.””
I sat slowly.
He looked tired.
“Vanessa tells me you refused to let Brianna use your creation.””
“It's for the state competition, Dad. I can't risk damaging it, and it's registered under my name.””
“Brianna would be careful.””
“It's not about being careful.””
Vanessa sighed.
“Marcus, this is exactly what I mean. Nia treats everything as a personal attack.””
I looked at him.
“Dad, I made that dress myself. You know how long I've worked on it.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Can't you make another one?””
I stared at him, stunned.
“The competition is next week.””
“Then perhaps you could use something else.””
I felt something inside me begin to crack.
“You wouldn't ask Brianna to give up something important to her just because I wanted it.””
Dad opened his mouth, then closed it.
Vanessa answered for him.
“That's enough. We aren't going to argue about a piece of clothing.””
A piece of clothing.
My mother's lace.
My savings.
My sleepless nights.
The first thing I had ever created that made me believe I could build a future beyond that house.
I stood and left the table.
No one followed me.
That night, I slept with my bedroom door locked and the key tucked beneath my pillow.
At seven the next morning, I opened my eyes and knew something was wrong.
The house was unusually quiet.
I rushed to the wardrobe.
The garment bag was still hanging from its hook.
But when I unzipped it, my hands went numb.
The dress was gone.
In its place lay an empty hanger and a small white envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Inside was a single sentence.
Stop making trouble, and your family won't have to suffer for your selfishness.
I read it twice.
Then I ran downstairs.
Vanessa stood near the front door, speaking to someone on her phone.
Brianna was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is my dress?”” I demanded.
Vanessa slowly ended her call.
“Good morning to you, too.””
“Where is it?””
She adjusted her bracelet.
“I suggest you calm down before you say something you'll regret.””
I stepped closer.
“You took it.””
Her expression didn't change.
“Prove it.””
And in that moment, I understood something that frightened me more than the empty garment bag.
May you like
Vanessa wasn't worried about being caught.
She was certain I couldn't do anything about it.
