Chapter 2: The Price of Their Greed
Brianna circled the gown as if she were inspecting a prize she had already won.
"That's the dress?"" she asked.
I stood between her and the garment rack.
"Yes.""
She leaned toward the bodice, studying the colors.
"The paint is gone.""
"No. I designed around it.""
Her mouth tightened.
"That actually looks expensive.""
"It's not for sale.""
Vanessa closed my bedroom door behind her.
"Nobody said anything about selling it.""
"Then why are you both staring at it like that?""
Brianna ignored me. She walked to the mirror, lifted the edge of the train, and watched the satin catch the light.
"This would look incredible on me.""
I laughed once, certain she was joking.
She wasn't.
"Absolutely not.""
Brianna dropped the train.
"Excuse me?""
"I made it for myself.""
"You can make another one.""
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Three days earlier, Vanessa had used the same sentence when she watched my original dress covered in paint. Now Brianna was repeating it while standing in front of the gown I had spent an entire night rescuing.
I looked at Vanessa.
"Are you serious?""
Vanessa placed her coffee on my desk.
"Let's be practical. Brianna's competition is this weekend, and she needs a gown that will make an impression. Your dress is exactly what she's looking for.""
"Then she can design her own.""
Brianna rolled her eyes.
"I don't have time to learn how to sew.""
"You have time to spend six hours taking pictures of your shoes.""
"Don't be rude!""
"You walked into my room and demanded something I made with my own hands.""
Vanessa stepped between us.
"Watch your attitude.""
I took a breath.
"This dress is mine. I paid for the materials. I designed it.
I made every stitch. Nobody is taking it.""
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
"You live under your father's roof. You eat the food in his kitchen. You use the electricity he pays for. And you think you can stand here and speak to me as if you're an independent adult?""
"I work for my own money.""
"That little alterations shop barely pays you anything.""
"It pays enough for me to buy my own materials.""
"How ungrateful.""
Brianna crossed her arms.
"Mom, forget it. I'll just tell everyone Nia is jealous because I have a real designer gown and she doesn't.""
I turned toward her.
"Your gown is eighteen hundred dollars. Mine took three months of work. Those aren't the same thing.""
Her cheeks flushed.
"You're so obsessed with making me look bad!""
"I'm not trying to make you look like anything.""
Vanessa picked up her coffee.
"Enough. We'll discuss this when you've calmed down.""
She walked out.
Brianna followed, but before leaving, she looked back at the gown.
"You can't wear that to graduation and the competition," she said.
"Watch me.""
Her smile returned.
"Fine. Let's see how that works out for you.""
The door shut.
I immediately called Mrs. Bennett.
She answered on the second ring.
"Nia? Is everything all right?""
"No," I said.
"I think my family is trying to take my dress.""
There was a pause.
"Have they actually taken it?""
"Not yet.""
"Then listen carefully. Photograph every part of that gown. Save your sketches.
Save your receipts. Save the competition email. And do not leave the dress where someone can reach it.""
"I shouldn't have to hide my own work.""
"No, you shouldn't," she replied.
"But protecting your work isn't the same as accepting what they're doing.""
I looked at the gown.
"I just wanted to make something my mom would have been proud of.""
"And you did. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.""
After we hung up, I photographed the dress from every angle. I took close-ups of the seams, the hand-stitched embellishments, and the unusual pattern where the blue paint had been transformed into a sweeping ocean design.
I photographed my original sketches, too.
Then I placed the gown inside a protective garment bag and hung it in the locked closet beside my sewing table.
For a few hours, I felt safe.
That evening, Dad knocked on my bedroom door.
"Can I come in?""
I hesitated before opening it.
He looked tired.
"Nia, your stepmother tells me you've been giving Brianna a hard time about the dress.""
I stared at him.
"She wants me to give it to her.""
"She has an important competition.""
"So do I.""
His eyebrows lifted.
"What competition?""
I handed him the printed email.
He read it slowly.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars?""
"And a scholarship. And an internship.""
For the first time in months, my father looked at me with something resembling pride.
"This is wonderful, sweetheart.""
I waited for him to say more.
He folded the paper carefully.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because every time I talk about something I care about, someone tells me it isn't important.""
He looked down.
"Nia, I know things have been difficult.""
"Difficult for whom?""
He looked toward the hallway.
"Your stepmother and Brianna are still adjusting to being a family.""
"It's been two years.""
"I know.""
"No, Dad. You don't know. You weren't there when Mom's envelope disappeared.
You weren't there when Vanessa replaced her pictures. You weren't there when Brianna poured paint on my dress.""
He flinched.
"She said it was an accident.""
"Do you believe that?""
He didn't answer.
I opened the closet and pulled out the garment bag.
"Look at this dress. Really look at it.""
He unzipped the bag.
For a moment, he simply stared.
The gown glowed beneath the overhead light. Gold thread traced the sculpted bodice, and the layered skirt seemed to shift between blue, violet, and coral.
Dad touched the edge of the train.
"Your mother would have loved this.""
My throat tightened.
"That's why I made it.""
He looked at me.
"You deserve to be proud of yourself.""
"Then tell Vanessa and Brianna the dress isn't theirs.""
His expression changed.
"Nia, I don't want another argument.""
"I don't either.""
"Could you let Brianna borrow it for the competition? Just for one evening?""
I stepped back.
"You just said Mom would have loved it.""
"I did.""
"Then why are you asking me to give it to someone who tried to destroy it?""
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Maybe this could bring you two closer.""
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"She ruined my first dress, Dad.""
"And you made something even better.""
"That doesn't mean she gets to take it.""
He looked at the gown again.
"I'll talk to Vanessa.""
It wasn't a promise, but it was more than I usually received.
I wanted to believe him.
That night, I slept with my bedroom door locked and my phone beside my pillow.
At 6:14 the following morning, I woke to the sound of metal scraping against metal.
I sat up.
The lock on my closet was turning.
Someone was using a key.
I ran across the room and yanked the closet door open.
Vanessa stood inside, holding a pair of scissors.
Brianna was beside her, already dressed in a white outfit.
The garment bag lay open on the floor.
"What are you doing?""
Vanessa didn't even look embarrassed.
"We're taking the dress downstairs so Brianna can try it on.""
I grabbed the hanger.
"Put it back.""
Brianna reached for the train.
"Stop acting like a child.""
"Get away from it!""
I pulled the gown against my chest.
Vanessa seized my wrist.
"Nia, let go.""
"No!""
The fabric stretched between us.
"You're going to damage it," I cried.
"Then stop fighting me!""
She twisted my wrist. Pain shot up my arm, but I held on.
Brianna grabbed the hanger and pulled.
The gown slipped from my fingers.
"Give it back!""
I reached for it, but Vanessa shoved me away.
My hip struck the sewing table. A box of needles toppled to the floor, scattering across the wood.
"How dare you!"" Vanessa shouted.
"After everything this family has done for you, you have the nerve to behave like this?""
"You broke into my closet!""
"This is your father's house!""
"And this is my dress!""
Vanessa raised her hand.
The slap landed across my face with a sharp crack.
My head snapped sideways.
I stumbled backward, crashing against the sewing table. A pair of scissors clattered to the floor beside my feet.
For several seconds, the room went silent.
My cheek burned.
Brianna stood frozen, holding the gown.
Then Vanessa straightened her blouse as if she had merely corrected a child's manners.
"Perhaps now you'll learn some respect.""
I touched my face.
"You hit me.""
"You were out of control.""
"You hit me because I wouldn't give her my dress.""
Vanessa reached for the garment bag.
"You're making this much uglier than it needs to be.""
Brianna lifted the gown carefully.
"Mom, let's go. I don't want to be late.""
She walked toward the door.
I could have screamed.
I could have thrown something.
Instead, I watched them carry the dress into the hallway.
Vanessa paused at the threshold.
"And don't even think about following us downstairs. Your father and I will deal with your behavior later.""
They left.
Their footsteps faded down the stairs.
I sat against the sewing table, holding my cheek.
Then I heard Brianna laugh.
"Mom, imagine everyone's faces when they see me wearing this!""
Vanessa replied, "Just make sure you tell them it was designed for you.""
My tears stopped.
Slowly, I stood.
I walked to my desk and opened my laptop.
The competition's official website was still open.
Beside the finalist announcement was a button marked *CONFIRM ORIGINAL DESIGN AND OWNERSHIP*.
I had completed the first section the previous night.
The remaining section required a statement confirming that the submitted garment was my original creation and that I would personally present it before the judges.
I clicked the button.
Then I uploaded my sketches, photographs, receipts, and the email confirming my finalist status.
Finally, I wrote a short statement explaining that the gown was my original design, that I had made it by hand, and that I had not authorized anyone else to present it as their own.
I attached a photograph of myself wearing the dress.
The submission confirmation appeared.
I printed it.
Then I picked up my phone and called Mrs. Bennett.
She answered immediately.
"Nia?""
"They took it.""
"What?""
"Vanessa and Brianna took my dress. Vanessa slapped me when I tried to stop them.""
Mrs. Bennett went quiet.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed.
"Are you hurt?""
"My face hurts.""
"Can you get somewhere safe?""
I glanced at my bedroom door.
"I don't know.""
"Listen to me. I am coming to get you. Pack your important things, and don't confront them alone.""
I swallowed.
"Mrs. Bennett, what if they wear the dress?""
"Then we'll make sure the people who need to know understand exactly who created it.""
I looked at the confirmation on my screen.
For the first time, I understood that I didn't need my family to recognize my talent for it to be real.
But I still needed the dress.
And I had a feeling that Brianna wasn't going to give it back willingly.
At 8:03 a.m., my phone buzzed with a new message.
It was from Brianna.
A photograph filled the screen.
She was standing in front of the hallway mirror, wearing my gown.
Underneath it, she had written:
*"Guess who's wearing the future of fashion today? Try not to cry when you see the pictures.""*
I stared at the photograph.
Then I noticed something behind her.
The garment bag.
And a small white tag hanging from the gown's inner seam.
The tag carried my initials.
N.C.
I saved the photograph.
Then I forwarded it to Mrs. Bennett.
May you like
Her reply arrived almost immediately.
*"Good. Don't delete anything. Nia, I need you to trust me. I think I know who can stop this.""*
