Chapter 5: The Price of Keeping Her Name
Vanessa didn't sell the sewing machine.
She did something that felt worse.
She carried it into the garage and locked it inside a storage cabinet, along with Nia's cutting tools, fabric scissors, rulers, and the small boxes of crystals she had spent months collecting.
Nia stood in the doorway, watching her mother turn the key.
"You can't keep my things from me," she said.
Vanessa slipped the key into her pocket.
"I paid for the cabinet.""
"I paid for the machine.""
"Then perhaps you should have thought about that before you decided to make trouble for your sister.""
Nia's fingers curled around the strap of her tote.
"The machine came from my savings. You know that.""
Vanessa turned.
"Your savings came from working in this house and helping our neighbors. That doesn't mean you get to dictate what happens under my roof.""
"I didn't ask you to buy it.""
"No. You simply expected everyone to applaud you for owning it.""
Nia stared at her mother, trying to understand how a conversation about a sewing machine had become a trial in which she was somehow the guilty party.
"Please," she said.
"I have a review tomorrow. I need to finish preparing my portfolio.""
"You have a review tomorrow because you refused to listen.""
"Because you lied.""
Vanessa stepped closer.
"Be very careful.""
Nia took a breath.
For months, those three words had been enough to make her apologize. They had worked whenever Vanessa raised her voice, whenever Brianna mocked her, whenever Nia tried to explain why something mattered.
But this time, Nia had already lost the sketchbook, the sewing machine, and the illusion that obedience would protect her.
She had very little left to surrender.
"I won't withdraw," she said.
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
"Then you will not be using this machine again until you learn some respect.""
She walked out of the garage.
Nia waited until the door shut, then crouched beside the cabinet.
Through a narrow gap, she could see the corner of her machine's metal case. A strand of turquoise thread was caught beneath the lid.
She reached through the gap and gently pulled it free.
It was barely three inches long.
She wound it around her finger and stood.
Then she returned to her bedroom, opened her laptop, and checked her email.
Evelyn had replied.
The review is scheduled for 10:00 a.m. tomorrow at the arts center. Please bring all original evidence available to you. Your mother cannot withdraw a complaint submitted in your name because you are the person raising the authorship concern.
Nia read the message slowly.
Her mother had told her the organizers were willing to move forward without her.
They weren't.
Nia replied, confirming that she would attend with a trusted adult.
Then she called Mrs. Alvarez.
"I can take you," the older woman said immediately.
"And don't worry about the ride home.""
Nia swallowed.
"Thank you.""
"That's what neighbors are for, sweetheart.""
After the call, Nia sat at her desk and reviewed her evidence.
The dated photographs showed the gown's construction over eleven months. The receipts documented the materials. Her original digital drawings included the small revisions she'd made after testing the bodice on a dress form.
But there was another piece of evidence.
A video.
Nia had recorded it six months earlier, when she was trying to explain the gown's construction to a friend who wanted to learn sewing. The video showed her standing beside the black mannequin, explaining how she'd drafted the pattern and why she'd chosen a particular lining.
Near the end, she held up the original sketchbook and pointed to the floral crystal arrangement.
"My favorite part is the train," she'd said into the camera.
"I want it to move like water. And I want to put my signature underneath, because the person who made a dress should never have to disappear behind it.""
Nia watched the video twice.
Then she saved a copy to the flash drive.
At six that evening, Brianna knocked on her bedroom door.
Nia looked up from her laptop.
"What?""
Brianna stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
She had changed into jeans and a black T-shirt. Without her usual makeup and carefully arranged blouse, she looked younger than nineteen.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she sat on the edge of the desk chair.
"Can we talk?""
Nia closed the laptop halfway.
"About what?""
"The review.""
"What about it?""
Brianna rubbed her palms against her jeans.
"Mom says you're planning to tell them everything.""
"I am.""
"Even the part about the signature?""
Nia looked at her sharply.
"How do you know about the signature?""
Brianna's expression changed.
"She told me you were trying to put your name inside the dress.""
Nia relaxed slightly.
"It's not a secret anymore. The organizers know I designed the gown.""
"They don't know about the lighting effect, though, do they?""
"No.""
Brianna looked toward the window.
"Could you take it out?""
Nia stared at her.
"Why?""
"Because it will embarrass me.""
"You mean it will reveal who made the dress.""
Brianna stood up.
"You're making this sound like some big moral battle. I just need one opportunity.""
"You have opportunities. You had the chance to make your own design.""
"I don't have eleven months to spend on a dress.""
"Neither did I.""
Brianna opened her mouth, then closed it.
Nia continued.
"I spent my weekends sewing. I used my allowance for fabric. I stayed up late fixing mistakes.
You never asked how I was doing. You never offered to help. You only noticed the dress when it was finished.""
Brianna's eyes flashed.
"Because I thought you were making it for the family!""
Nia blinked.
"What does that even mean?""
"Mom said it would be a family project.""
"I never agreed to that.""
"Well, maybe you should have said something.""
Nia let out a disbelieving laugh.
"I did say something. You told me I should be grateful you let me watch.""
Brianna's cheeks reddened.
"That was a joke.""
"It wasn't funny.""
Brianna looked down.
For a few seconds, neither spoke.
Then Brianna said, "Do you know what happens if I lose this showcase?""
Nia stared at her.
"You lose a competition.""
"No. You don't understand.""
Brianna began pacing.
"I've been applying for internships. I've been sending portfolios to designers. I told everyone this dress was my final project. Mom said if I won, she'd introduce me to someone who works in a major fashion house.""
"Then you should have made your own dress.""
"I thought I could use yours as inspiration.""
"You didn't use it as inspiration. You took it.""
Brianna stopped pacing.
"Mom said you wouldn't mind.""
Nia felt a sharp ache behind her ribs.
"Why would she say that?""
Brianna didn't answer.
Instead, she looked at the laptop.
"Do you have a copy of the sketchbook?""
"Yes.""
"Can I see it?""
"No.""
Brianna flinched as though Nia had struck her.
"You're really going to do this?""
"I'm going to tell the truth.""
"And if everyone thinks I'm a thief?""
Nia looked at her sister for a long moment.
"Then maybe you should have thought about that before you stole my work.""
Brianna's eyes filled, but her expression hardened almost immediately.
"You're just jealous.""
The familiar accusation landed between them.
Nia waited for the old panic to arrive, the fear that perhaps Brianna was right, that perhaps wanting recognition made her selfish.
It never came.
"No," Nia said.
"I'm hurt.""
Brianna turned away.
"Whatever.""
She walked to the door, then paused with her hand on the knob.
"Mom says she's going to make sure the judges never see your evidence.""
Nia's stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?""
Brianna looked over her shoulder.
"I don't know. She said she'd take care of everything.""
Then she left.
Nia remained at her desk, staring at the closed door.
She could hear Brianna crossing the hallway and descending the stairs. A moment later, Vanessa called her into the living room.
Their voices were muffled, but Nia caught fragments.
"...the application...""
"...can't let her...""
"...after tomorrow...""
Then a sharp silence.
Nia closed her laptop and stood.
She needed to know what they were planning.
But before she reached the door, her phone vibrated.
A new email had arrived from the showcase organizers.
The subject line read:
*NOTICE OF TEMPORARY DISQUALIFICATION — CARTER ENTRY*
Nia's heart seemed to stop.
She opened the message.
The organizers had received a second statement from Vanessa Carter claiming that Nia had fabricated her authorship claim after a family disagreement. The statement alleged that Nia had only helped with minor alterations and was now attempting to sabotage her sister's professional prospects.
Pending further review, Brianna's entry had been placed on hold.
The final paragraph was worse.
To ensure a fair process, the panel requests that the original gown and all supporting materials be presented at the review meeting. If either party refuses to cooperate, the entry may be disqualified.
Nia read the message twice.
Her mother had not prevented the review.
She had made it more dangerous.
If the judges saw the evidence, Brianna could lose her entry. If they didn't, Nia might never be able to prove what had happened.
Nia forwarded the email to Evelyn.
Then she heard the front door open downstairs.
A man's voice entered the house.
"Nia? Vanessa? I'm here to collect the gown.""
Nia froze.
She recognized the voice.
It belonged to Marcus Reed, a local photographer who had offered to take promotional pictures of Brianna's entry.
But why was he collecting the dress the night before the review?
Nia crept toward the top of the stairs.
From the landing, she could see Vanessa standing beside the front door, holding the garment bag.
Marcus carried a camera case and a long black equipment bag.
"Everything is ready?"" he asked.
Vanessa nodded.
"Take it directly to the studio. I don't want it damaged.""
Marcus accepted the garment bag.
"And the other issue?""
Vanessa glanced toward the stairs.
"That's being handled.""
Nia pressed herself against the wall.
Marcus lowered his voice.
"You're sure about the lighting?""
"Yes. Brianna has the final walk rehearsed. The judges won't be able to ignore the dress.""
Marcus nodded.
Then Vanessa said something that made Nia's blood run cold.
"By the time the review panel sees it, the signature will be gone.""
Nia gripped the banister.
May you like
Her mother knew about the hidden signature.
And she was planning to remove it.
