Chapter 1: The Sound of Everything Breaking
The golden base struck the marble floor first.
Then the trophy shattered.
A sharp metallic crack echoed through the backstage corridor. The golden figure snapped from its pedestal, bounced once, and slid beneath a nearby table. The engraved nameplate spun across the floor before stopping against my shoe.
NIA CARTER.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
I stared at the pieces.
My first championship trophy.
The award I had worked years to earn.
The one thing in that house that belonged entirely to me.
Brianna looked down at the broken pieces, then at me.
Her breathing was quick, but there was no regret in her eyes.
Instead, she smiled.
"There," she said.
"Now nobody has to pretend you're special.""
I couldn't speak.
A backstage assistant hurried toward us.
"What happened?""
Brianna immediately stepped backward.
"She dropped it," she said.
I looked up.
"What?""
Brianna folded her arms.
"Nia was waving it around like an idiot. I tried to stop her.""
"That's not true.""
"Of course you'd say that.""
I crouched and picked up the nameplate. Its sharp edge cut into my finger.
A tiny bead of blood appeared.
I barely noticed.
"Give me the rest of my trophy," I whispered.
Brianna laughed.
"Your trophy? Look around. It's trash now.""
Then she stepped closer.
Her eyes moved from my face to the enormous crimson wings attached to my gown.
Something changed in her expression.
I knew that look.
"Brianna," I warned.
"What?""
"Don't touch my dress.""
She reached behind my shoulder and grabbed the right wing.
I twisted away.
"Let go!""
"Why? Is this another thing nobody else is allowed to have?""
The wing's delicate support frame bent beneath her fingers.
I heard the fabric stretch.
Then came a sound I would remember for the rest of my life.
Rrrrrrip.
One of the enormous crimson feathers tore away from its structure.
"Brianna!""
I grabbed her wrist.
She shoved me hard.
My back struck the wall, and the bouquet of roses slipped from my hand.
Petals scattered across the floor.
Brianna seized the wing again.
"You think you're better than me because some judges gave you a stupid trophy?""
She pulled.
The entire outer section ripped away.
Hundreds of tiny crystals scattered over the floor like broken glass.
I stared at the damage.
Thirteen nights.
Three failed frames.
A hundred and forty-seven individually shaped petals.
My mother's old sewing scissors, which I had used to cut the final pieces.
Everything I had built was hanging from my back in torn strips.
"Stop!"" I screamed.
But Brianna wasn't finished.
She grabbed the second wing and yanked it downward.
The support snapped.
I heard another crack.
Then she tore the fabric away with both hands.
My knees weakened.
"Please," I whispered.
"You already broke the trophy.""
Brianna threw the ruined wing onto the floor.
"Maybe next time you'll remember your place.""
A woman's laughter came from behind her.
Vanessa.
My stepmother stood in the corridor wearing a champagne-colored evening gown, holding a glass of sparkling wine.
She had watched everything.
And she was laughing.
"Oh, Brianna," Vanessa said, pretending to sound concerned.
"You really shouldn't destroy things just because you're upset.""
Brianna turned toward her.
"She was asking for it.""
Vanessa took a sip.
"Well, she does have a talent for making everything about herself.""
I looked at Vanessa.
"You watched her destroy my work.""
Vanessa tilted her head.
"Don't be dramatic, Nia.""
"My trophy is broken.""
"Then perhaps you should have held it more carefully.""
"Brianna threw it!""
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"Watch your tone.""
I looked at the broken wing, the scattered crystals, and the trophy pieces beneath the table.
Then I looked at the two women who had spent years teaching me that my pain was inconvenient.
Something inside me went quiet.
Not because I wasn't hurt.
Because I was finally finished begging them to care.
A competition organizer hurried into the corridor.
"Miss Carter? Are you all right?""
I tried to answer.
Vanessa stepped forward.
"Everything is fine. This is a private family disagreement.""
The organizer glanced at my ruined gown.
"That doesn't look fine.""
Brianna rolled her eyes.
"She is making a scene because she lost control of her dress.""
"I won," I said quietly.
Brianna turned.
"What?""
"I won the championship. You didn't.""
Her face reddened.
Vanessa set down her glass on a nearby table.
"That's enough, Nia.""
The organizer looked between us.
"I think we should call security.""
Vanessa gave a short laugh.
"Security? For what? Two sisters arguing?""
"She destroyed my property.""
"Your property?"" Vanessa repeated.
"Everything you have belongs to this family.""
I stared at her.
"My dress was made with my own money.""
"Money that comes from the household.""
"I earned the prize money from my previous designs.""
Vanessa stepped closer.
"Don't embarrass us any further.""
The organizer turned to a security guard approaching from the main auditorium.
"Please stay here. We're reviewing what happened.""
Vanessa's smile vanished.
"You have no authority to detain us.""
The guard remained calm.
"Nobody is detaining anyone, ma'am. We just need to establish what happened.""
Brianna pointed at me.
"She's lying! She attacked me!""
I looked at the organizer.
"There's a camera above the corridor.""
Everyone turned toward the ceiling.
A small black security camera blinked above the exit.
The guard looked up.
Then he looked at Brianna.
"Thank you for pointing that out, Miss Carter.""
Brianna's mouth opened.
Vanessa's face went pale.
I slowly lowered myself onto a chair.
My hands were shaking.
The organizer brought me a bottle of water and asked if I needed medical attention for the cut on my finger.
I shook my head.
Then I noticed something strange.
A second security guard had entered the corridor.
He wasn't looking at Brianna or Vanessa.
He was looking directly at me.
"Miss Carter?""
I nodded.
"Yes?""
He approached carefully.
"Could you come with me, please?""
"Why?""
His expression was unusual.
Almost nervous.
"There's someone waiting for you in a private room.""
I frowned.
"Who?""
He glanced toward the two women.
Then he lowered his voice.
"Someone who has been trying to reach you for a very long time.""
Vanessa suddenly stood.
"She's not going anywhere.""
The guard turned toward her.
"Ma'am, this doesn't concern you.""
"She's my daughter!""
I looked at her.
For the first time, I noticed that she wasn't concerned about my safety.
She was frightened.
Brianna grabbed Vanessa's arm.
"Mom?""
Vanessa didn't answer.
The guard extended his hand toward me.
"Miss Carter, there's something you need to see.""
I stood slowly.
As I followed him down the corridor, I glanced back once.
Vanessa was staring at me.
Her lips moved.
I couldn't hear what she said.
But I understood the words.
Don't.
The guard stopped outside a dark wooden door.
He placed his hand on the handle.
"Before you go in," he said, "I want you to know that the man inside asked us not to tell you his name until you were alone.""
My heart began pounding.
"Why?""
The guard swallowed.
"Because he believes your family has been lying to you for ten years.""
Then he opened the door.
And I saw a man sitting beside the window.
His hair was darker than I remembered, with silver at the temples. His face was thinner. There were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there when I was little.
But I knew those eyes.
I knew the way his left hand rested against the armchair.
I knew the small scar near his eyebrow.
The photograph beside my childhood bed had shown that face for years.
My knees nearly gave out.
The man stood.
"Nia?""
I couldn't breathe.
He took one step toward me.
Then he said the words that shattered the last piece of my childhood.
"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I should have come for you ten years ago.""
I shook my head.
"No.""
His eyes filled with tears.
"Nia...""
"My father is dead.""
He closed his eyes.
Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out an old photograph.
It showed a little girl sitting on a man's shoulders at a beach.
I was that little girl.
And the man was him.
My father.
He placed the photograph on the table.
"Your stepmother didn't tell you the truth about my death.""
I gripped the back of a chair.
"What truth?""
He looked toward the closed door.
May you like
Then back at me.
"Vanessa knows exactly where I've been. And she knows why your mother died.""
