Chapter 2: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
I watched the video three times.
The first time, I was too shocked to understand what I was seeing.
The second time, I noticed the document in Vivienne's hand.
The third time, I heard what Celeste said.
“Are you sure this will work?””
Vivienne placed the paper on my sewing table.
“Of course. The competition doesn't care who originally drew the sketches. They care about whose name appears on the registration.””
“But what if Aaliyah finds out?””
Vivienne laughed.
“By the time she understands what happened, your collection will already be accepted.””
Celeste picked up one of my sketches.
“What about the flowers?””
“Use them exactly as they are. The judges love originality.””
Celeste looked toward the camera.
For one terrifying second, I thought she had noticed it.
Then she turned away.
“Mom, what if she goes to Dad?””
Vivienne's voice became colder.
“Daniel will believe whatever I tell him. He always does.””
The video ended.
I sat motionless in the darkness.
The house was quiet except for the washing machine downstairs.
My stepsister hadn't simply taken my gown.
She and her mother had planned the theft.
And they had used a forged signature to make it look legal.
I copied the video onto three separate storage devices.
Then I downloaded every photograph, sketch, receipt, and recording I could find.
At two in the morning, I called the only person I trusted to understand what had happened.
Her name was Naomi Brooks.
She had worked beside me at the tailor shop for almost two years and was studying fashion merchandising at night.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Aaliyah? Do you know what time it is?””
“Naomi, I need your help.””
Her voice immediately changed.
“What happened?””
I sent her the video.
There was silence.
Then I heard her inhale sharply.
“Oh, my God.””
“I know.””
“They actually stole your entire collection?””
“Yes.””
“And they forged your signature?””
“I think so.””
Naomi went quiet again.
“Listen to me. Don't confront them yet.””
“Why not?””
“Because right now, they're expecting you to scream, cry, and make a mistake. That's what they want.””
I looked at the empty garment bag hanging behind my door.
“What am I supposed to do?””
“Build your evidence. And don't give them a chance to destroy anything else.””
I swallowed.
“Naomi, I don't even know if I can still compete.””
She paused.
“Then we'll find out.””
The following morning, I went downstairs with the printed footage in my hand.
My father was drinking coffee at the kitchen island.
Vivienne was reading a magazine.
Celeste sat opposite him, scrolling through photographs of herself wearing my gown.
I placed the papers on the counter.
“Dad, we need to talk.””
He glanced at them.
“What's this?””
“Proof that Vivienne and Celeste stole my design.””
Vivienne closed her magazine.
“Not this again.””
“Watch the video.””
I turned my laptop toward him.
Celeste's face changed.
“Why do you have that?””
I pressed play.
My father's expression gradually hardened as the footage showed Vivienne placing the forged document on my sewing table.
When Celeste's voice came through the speakers, he looked at his wife.
“Did you say that?””
Vivienne didn't answer immediately.
Then she sighed.
“Daniel, you're misunderstanding the situation.””
“What situation?””
“Your daughter had abandoned the project. Celeste needed a design, and I helped her.””
“I never abandoned anything,” I said.
Vivienne looked at me.
“You were struggling financially. You had no professional support. Celeste had an actual opportunity to present the work properly.””
“My work!””
Celeste slammed her phone onto the counter.
“Stop acting like you're some famous designer! You made one dress!””
I turned toward her.
“One dress that you couldn't have made without stealing it.””
“Mom paid for the alterations.””
“What alterations?””
Celeste's mouth tightened.
Vivienne stood.
“Enough. We are not going to stand here and allow you to harass my daughter.””
My father picked up the papers.
“Vivienne, did you forge Aaliyah's signature?””
She laughed.
“Don't be ridiculous.””
“Then explain this.””
“It's an administrative document. You wouldn't understand.””
“I understand that my daughter's signature is on a document she says she never signed.””
Vivienne's face hardened.
“Daniel, think carefully before you make this into something it isn't.””
My father rubbed his forehead.
“Perhaps we should contact the competition and ask them to investigate.””
Celeste immediately stood.
“No!””
Everyone looked at her.
She recovered quickly.
“I mean, there's no reason to involve strangers in a family disagreement.””
I almost laughed.
A family disagreement.
Six months of work had become a family disagreement.
My father turned toward me.
“Aaliyah, let me speak with the competition. We'll sort this out.””
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But Vivienne had already begun collecting the papers.
“There's nothing to sort out,” she said.
I grabbed my laptop.
“I'm going to the competition office myself.””
Celeste stepped into my path.
“You'll ruin everything.””
I looked directly at her.
“You ruined it first.””
Naomi met me outside the competition's administrative office that afternoon.
She carried a folder thick enough to hold a small novel.
“I brought everything,” she said.
“Everything?””
“Receipts, your preliminary sketches, photographs from the tailor shop, the video files, and the email confirming your original application.””
I stared at her.
“You did all this?””
She shrugged.
“I wasn't going to let those women get away with it.””
Inside, we met a woman named Margaret Ellis, the competition's senior registration coordinator.
She examined my documents carefully.
“Ms. Bennett, I can see that your preliminary application was submitted six months ago,” she said.
“Yes.””
“And the withdrawal request came from an email address that doesn't match your registered account.””
“Can you show me who submitted it?””
Margaret hesitated.
“Not without an internal review.””
“But someone used my name.””
“I understand.””
She turned her monitor toward us.
“Your original application was accepted. However, the final submission was transferred to another contestant's account after a change-of-ownership request was processed.””
My stomach tightened.
“Transferred?””
“Yes. According to this document, you voluntarily assigned the design to Celeste Vaughn.””
Naomi leaned forward.
“Can we see the document?””
Margaret printed a copy.
I looked at the signature.
It resembled mine.
Almost perfectly.
But there was one detail that made my skin crawl.
The signature ended with a small upward stroke.
I had never written it that way.
Someone had copied my name from an old document.
Margaret examined the paper.
“Ms. Bennett, do you have any proof that this signature is forged?””
I handed her the footage.
She watched silently.
When the video ended, she removed her glasses.
“This is serious.””
“Can I still compete?””
She looked at me for a long moment.
“I cannot promise you that. The final lineup has already been confirmed.””
My shoulders dropped.
“But,” she continued, “we can place an ownership dispute on record. The judges will be notified that a formal complaint has been submitted.””
Naomi touched my arm.
It wasn't a victory.
But it was something.
As we walked outside, my phone rang.
Dad.
I answered immediately.
“Hello?””
“Aaliyah, where are you?””
“Leaving the competition office.””
“Come home. We need to talk.””
“About what?””
He hesitated.
“Vivienne says you've been making accusations that could damage Celeste's career.””
I stopped walking.
“Dad, I showed you the video.””
“I know.””
“Then why are you calling me?””
He sighed.
“Your stepmother is very upset. She says you took confidential family documents without permission.””
I stared at the pavement.
“She stole my dress.””
“Please don't make this worse.””
“Dad, she forged my signature.””
“Can we discuss this at home?””
I closed my eyes.
“Do you believe me?””
Silence.
Then he said the words I had been dreading.
“I believe there's been a misunderstanding.””
I ended the call.
Naomi didn't ask what he had said.
She didn't need to.
Two days later, the competition organizers released the final contestant list.
Celeste Vaughn was listed as contestant number twelve.
Her collection title was:
*The Garden of Dreams.*
My title.
My sketches.
My flowers.
My dream.
That evening, Vivienne organized a small celebration at the house.
A professional photographer arrived to take pictures of Celeste beside the gown.
She wore my pink dress again.
This time, she stood in front of the staircase while Vivienne adjusted the neckline.
“Turn slightly,” the photographer instructed.
Celeste lifted her chin.
“Like this?””
“Perfect.””
Vivienne clapped.
“My beautiful girl.””
I watched from the doorway.
Celeste noticed me and smiled.
“Do you like it?””
I didn't answer.
She stepped closer.
“Mom says the judges already love the collection.””
“Good for you.””
“You know, Aaliyah, you could have been part of this if you'd learned to cooperate.””
I looked at the dress.
“Does it fit comfortably?””
Her smile faltered.
“What?””
“The left side of the corset. Does it pull when you breathe?””
Celeste glanced down.
“Why?””
“Just curious.””
I stepped closer.
She moved backward.
“You're being creepy.””
I smiled.
“Enjoy wearing it.””
I walked away.
Behind me, Celeste called out.
“Don't worry. I'll make sure everyone knows who really designed it.””
I stopped at the staircase.
Then I turned.
“That's interesting. Because I was about to ask the same thing.””
Her expression changed.
I went upstairs.
That night, I received a message from an unknown number.
*You should stop investigating Celeste. You don't know who you're dealing with.*
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
*The signature wasn't the only thing they forged.*
My fingers went cold.
I typed back.
*Who is this?*
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then a photograph arrived.
It showed a contract bearing the competition's official logo.
At the bottom was my name.
But the date was from three months before I had even submitted my application.
And beside my forged signature was another name.
May you like
Daniel Bennett.
My father.
