Chapter 6: My Father's Choice
“Brianna, stop talking.””
Vanessa's voice cut through the auditorium.
Her daughter flinched.
For years, I had watched Brianna respond to that tone without question. It could silence her in the middle of a sentence, turn her anger into an apology, and make her forget what she had wanted to say.
But this time, Brianna didn't stop.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I didn't want to take the dress at first.””
Vanessa stared at her.
“You have no idea what you're saying.””
“You told me Nia would never get into Harrington anyway. You said she was wasting everyone's time.””
Dad turned toward Vanessa.
“Is that true?””
Vanessa's expression shifted.
“Marcus, you cannot seriously believe you're going to let a teenage tantrum destroy our family.””
“I'm asking you a question.””
“And I'm telling you that this entire situation has been distorted.””
I stood near Mrs. Ellis, feeling as though I were watching a storm break over the house I had lived in for seven years.
Part of me wanted to shout.
To list every insult.
Every time Vanessa had dismissed my ambitions.
Every time Brianna had ruined something I made and then laughed when I cried.
But another part of me was exhausted.
I had come to the competition to defend my work.
I hadn't expected to stand in front of three hundred strangers while my family tore itself apart.
Richard stepped between the judges' table and Vanessa.
“Mrs. Carter, the panel has not yet issued a final decision. We need to establish whether the garment was submitted under false pretenses and whether the original designer's work was improperly used.””
Vanessa straightened her shoulders.
“Then establish it. But I won't allow you to treat my daughter like a criminal.””
“No one has called her a criminal.””
“Everyone here is looking at her as though she has committed some terrible offense.””
Richard glanced toward the audience.
“People are reacting to the evidence presented before them. We cannot control their assumptions, but we can control the fairness of our process.””
He turned toward the coordinator.
“Please escort the audience representatives back to their seats. We will take a short recess before continuing.””
The coordinator nodded.
The judges gathered their papers.
The host stepped onto the stage and announced a brief delay.
Immediately, the auditorium erupted into conversation.
Parents whispered.
Students exchanged looks.
Phones appeared in people's hands.
I could only imagine what they were saying about us.
Brianna stood beside the mannequin, still wearing my dress.
She looked smaller than she had when she first walked beneath the spotlight.
Vanessa grabbed her arm.
“We're leaving.””
Richard stepped forward.
“The garment must remain here until the panel completes its review.””
Vanessa stared at him.
“You cannot keep our property.””
Richard didn't blink.
“The panel is preserving the disputed competition entry. The garment will not be altered or removed until the review is complete.””
“It's a dress!””
“It's also the subject of an active authorship dispute.””
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“Vanessa, please. Just let them finish.””
She turned on him.
“You're taking their side?””
“I'm trying to understand what happened.””
“You know exactly what happened. Your daughter has always resented Brianna, and now she's found a way to humiliate her publicly.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
Even now, Vanessa was trying to make my work disappear beneath a story about jealousy.
Dad looked at me.
“Nia, is that what this is about?””
The question hurt more than I expected.
I stared at him.
“Do you really think I would spend months making that dress just to embarrass Brianna?””
He didn't answer.
“I wanted to win a scholarship,” I continued.
“I wanted to study design. I wanted to do something with the things Mom taught me.””
My voice trembled.
“I didn't ask Brianna to take my work. I didn't ask Vanessa to threaten me. I didn't ask anyone to stand on that stage wearing something I made and tell the world it belonged to her.””
Dad lowered his eyes.
For a moment, I thought he might finally understand.
Then Vanessa spoke again.
“Marcus, we should discuss this privately. We do not need to expose every family disagreement to strangers.””
Richard interrupted.
“The competition has a responsibility to protect the integrity of its submissions. This is no longer simply a private disagreement.””
Vanessa looked as though she wanted to slap him.
Instead, she turned away.
Brianna sat on a chair near the stage and buried her face in her hands.
I couldn't tell whether she was ashamed or frightened.
Perhaps she was both.
I remembered the little girl who had arrived at our house wearing a pink backpack and carrying a stuffed rabbit. We had been awkward around each other at first, but I had tried to be kind.
I had shown her how to make paper flowers.
I had let her borrow my colored pencils.
I had once spent an entire afternoon helping her sew a costume for a school play because she was afraid her mother would be disappointed if it wasn't perfect.
Somewhere along the way, we had become competitors in a contest I had never agreed to enter.
I wondered whether Brianna had ever understood how much of that rivalry had been created for her.
Then she lifted her head.
“Nia?””
I looked at her.
She glanced at Vanessa, who was speaking to Dad several feet away.
“Can I talk to you?””
I hesitated.
Mrs. Ellis remained beside me.
“You don't have to,” she said quietly.
I knew that.
But I wanted to hear what Brianna had to say.
I walked toward her, stopping several feet away.
“What?””
Brianna looked down at the gown.
“I didn't know the lace was from your mom's wedding dress.””
The words were so small that, for a second, I thought I had misheard her.
I stared at her.
“You didn't know?””
“Mom said it was old lace you weren't using.””
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“You went into my room. You saw the box.””
Brianna swallowed.
“I didn't open it.””
“You took the dress.””
She looked away.
“I know.””
“You lied to Dad.””
“I know.””
“And you stood onstage and told everyone you made it.””
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I know, Nia.””
I wanted her to stop repeating those words.
Knowing what she had done didn't undo it.
Knowing didn't give me back the weeks I had spent believing my dream was over.
And knowing certainly didn't make her confession any easier to hear.
“Why?”” I asked.
She pressed her lips together.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, “Because I wanted to be the one who won.””
I stared at her.
“You already had everything.””
Her face crumpled.
“Not everything.””
I almost laughed.
“You had the clothes, the lessons, the money, and Mom's support. You had Dad buying you whatever you wanted. You had everyone telling you that you were special.””
“And you had something they couldn't give me.””
I frowned.
“What?””
Brianna looked at the dress.
“You could make things. People looked at your work and were impressed. They asked how you did it.
Teachers praised you. Even when you were making things out of scraps, people noticed.””
Her voice cracked.
“I wanted people to look at me like that.””
For a moment, I saw something beneath the arrogance.
Insecurity.
Jealousy.
A desperate need to be admired.
But understanding why she had done something didn't make it acceptable.
“So you decided to steal what I'd made?””
She closed her eyes.
“I thought I could win. I thought once everyone saw the dress, nobody would care who actually made it.””
I took a step backward.
“You knew I needed that scholarship.””
“I know.””
“You knew what it meant to me.””
She nodded.
“Then you knew exactly what you were taking.””
Brianna began to cry harder.
I felt no satisfaction in seeing her tears.
Only a deep, exhausted sadness.
Before I could say anything else, Vanessa appeared beside her.
“That's enough.””
She took Brianna by the shoulders and pulled her upright.
“You are not required to explain yourself to someone who has spent years trying to make you look bad.””
I stared at her.
“She's the one who admitted what she did.””
Vanessa ignored me.
“Brianna, come with me.””
“No,” Brianna whispered.
Vanessa froze.
“What did you say?””
Brianna wiped her face.
“I said no.””
The auditorium seemed to grow quieter around us.
Vanessa's expression became terrifyingly calm.
“You will not speak to me that way.””
“You told me to take the dress.””
“I told you to use an opportunity.””
“You told me Nia didn't deserve it!””
“I told you to stop being weak!””
Brianna recoiled.
Dad turned toward them.
“Vanessa!””
But she continued.
“You had one chance to make something of yourself, Brianna, and now you've ruined everything by crying in front of these people.””
Brianna stared at her mother.
Then she looked at me.
For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes that had nothing to do with being caught.
She was afraid of going home with Vanessa.
Richard approached the three of us.
“Mrs. Carter, I must ask you to step away from your daughter while we conclude the review.””
Vanessa looked at him with disbelief.
“You cannot tell me how to parent my own child.””
“I can ask you to stop interfering with the competition's proceedings.””
Dad stepped between them.
“Vanessa, please. Go sit down.””
She turned toward him slowly.
“You've changed, Marcus.””
He looked exhausted.
“No. I think I've been avoiding things I should have dealt with a long time ago.””
Vanessa's expression shifted.
I saw it then.
The smallest crack in the certainty she had carried into every room of our house.
She had believed Dad would always choose the path of least resistance.
She had believed he would rather silence me than challenge her.
And until that morning, she had been right.
Dad looked at me.
“Nia, I owe you an apology.””
I couldn't speak.
He continued, his voice rough.
“When you told me the dress was missing, I should have taken you seriously. I should have asked more questions instead of assuming this was another disagreement between you and Brianna.””
I stared at him, fighting tears.
“You should have believed me.””
“I know.””
“No, Dad. You don't know.””
My voice broke.
“You weren't there when I found that envelope. You weren't there when I thought I'd lost the only thing I had left of Mom. You weren't there when I realized Vanessa could take something from my room and then tell me to prove it.””
Dad's eyes filled with tears.
“I know I failed you.””
I looked away.
Part of me wanted to run into his arms.
Another part wanted to ask why it had taken a room full of strangers to make him listen.
“I can't fix everything with an apology,” he said.
“No,” I whispered.
“You can't.””
He nodded slowly.
“I understand.””
The judges returned to their table.
Richard asked everyone involved to remain present while the panel reached a preliminary decision.
He explained that the digital records supported my claim of original authorship and that the evidence provided by Mrs. Ellis reinforced the timeline of construction.
The panel would suspend Brianna's entry pending a formal review of the submission and the circumstances surrounding the disputed garment.
Brianna closed her eyes.
Vanessa sat rigidly in her chair.
Then Richard addressed me.
“Nia, your original submission remains valid. Your design will be evaluated separately from this dispute, and the panel will determine whether you can still participate in the presentation portion of the competition.””
My heart began pounding again.
I had spent the entire day defending myself.
I hadn't dared to hope I might still be allowed to compete.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Richard nodded.
But before I could take another breath, the coordinator approached him and handed him a sealed envelope.
He read the first page.
Then he looked toward Vanessa.
“Mrs. Carter, I need to ask you one final question.””
Vanessa straightened.
“What now?””
Richard held up the document.
“According to this record, a request was made to change the registered designer's name before the event.””
My blood ran cold.
Brianna stared at her mother.
Dad turned slowly.
Richard continued.
“The request was submitted electronically using contact information associated with your household.””
Vanessa's face drained of color.
“That is impossible.””
Richard placed the document on the table.
“Then perhaps you can explain why the request includes your signature.””
Nobody moved.
I looked at the page.
There it was.
Vanessa Carter.
Her name.
Her signature.
And beneath it, a declaration claiming that Brianna Carter was the original creator of The Last Light.
Dad picked up the document.
His hands began to shake.
“Vanessa,” he whispered.
“What have you done?””
For the first time, she had no answer.
But as I watched her stare at the signature, I realized that stealing my dress might have been only the beginning.
May you like
Because the document contained a second page.
And when Richard turned it over, his expression changed so completely that I knew whatever came next would be far worse than anything we had uncovered so far.
