Chapter 3
I looked at the photograph until the screen went dark.
Then I turned it back on.
Brianna.
Camille Ross.
My portfolio.
There was no mistaking the turquoise cover.
I'd decorated it myself with tiny silver stitches along the edge.
Brianna was holding it against her chest as if it belonged to her.
I felt sick.
For months, I had wondered why she suddenly cared about fashion.
Why she kept asking where I stored my sketches.
Why she'd started posting outfit designs online, even though she'd never sewn anything in her life.
Now I understood.
She wasn't just jealous.
She was stealing.
I called my best friend, Maya Brooks.
She answered immediately.
"Girl, please tell me you're finished with that dress."
"No."
My voice cracked.
"Maya, something happened."
Five minutes later, she was driving toward my house.
Maya had been my best friend since elementary school.
She was the only person who knew how bad things had become after Vanessa moved in.
When she entered the sewing room, she took one look at my face.
"Who hurt you?"
I showed her the torn gown.
Her mouth fell open.
"No."
Then I showed her the photograph.
Her expression changed from shock to fury.
"I'm going to kill Brianna."
"No, you're not."
"I'm seriously considering it."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Maya zoomed in on the picture.
"Where did this come from?"
"Anonymous number."
"Did you ask who sent it?"
I nodded.
"No answer."
She studied the photograph.
"That looks like the lobby of the Whitmore Hotel."
I leaned closer.
"How can you tell?"
"My aunt works there. See that gold sculpture?"
I looked.
Maya was right.
There was a familiar twisting sculpture behind Brianna.
"When was this taken?"
"I don't know."
Maya checked the image details.
"Yesterday afternoon."
My stomach dropped.
Yesterday.
While I was at work, Brianna had apparently taken my portfolio to a scholarship judge.
"Why would Camille meet with her?" I asked.
"I don't know. But we're going to find out."
Maya immediately called her aunt.
I listened while they spoke.
Then Maya's eyes widened.
"Are you serious?"
She glanced at me.
"Okay. Thank you."
When she ended the call, she looked stunned.
"Nia, my aunt remembers them."
My heart pounded.
"What did she say?"
"Brianna introduced herself as a young designer."
I gripped the edge of the table.
"And Camille?"
"She said Camille looked uncomfortable. Apparently they argued in the lobby."
"About what?"
"Your name."
I stared at her.
Maya lowered her voice.
"My aunt heard Camille say, 'These designs were submitted under Nia Carter.'"
For one second, I couldn't breathe.
Then Maya continued.
"Brianna told her there had been a misunderstanding."
"What misunderstanding?"
"She claimed you'd used her designs without permission."
I stumbled backward.
The room seemed to tilt.
Brianna wasn't trying to steal one dress.
She was trying to steal my entire future.
Maya caught my arm.
"Sit down."
I shook my head.
"No. I need to talk to Dad."
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because what happened this morning?"
I stopped.
She was right.
My father hadn't believed me about the dress.
Why would he believe me about something even bigger?
Maya squeezed my hand.
"We need proof they can't twist."
I stared at the photograph.
Then I remembered something.
The security camera.
My father had installed a small camera in the upstairs hallway after someone broke into a neighbor's house.
It pointed directly toward the sewing-room entrance.
And the door had been open when Brianna attacked my dress.
"Maya."
"What?"
"I think there's footage."
Her eyes lit up.
"Then let's get it."
We hurried downstairs.
My father was still at work.
Vanessa and Brianna had gone shopping.
The house was quiet.
The camera recordings were saved through an account on my father's home computer.
I knew the password because he had once shown me how to check the cameras while he traveled.
We opened the recordings.
I found the time from that morning.
There.
Brianna entered the sewing room.
She looked over her shoulder.
Then Vanessa appeared behind her.
They spoke briefly.
The camera couldn't record their voices clearly, but their movements were unmistakable.
Vanessa pointed into the room.
Brianna nodded.
Then she walked inside.
Seconds later, I appeared in the doorway.
The camera captured the struggle.
Brianna grabbing the dress.
Me trying to stop her.
The violent pull.
The fabric tearing.
And then something even worse.
When Vanessa entered, she looked directly at the ruined gown.
Brianna laughed.
And Vanessa smiled.
Maya slowly turned toward me.
"Oh, they're finished."
I barely heard her.
Because I was watching the recording again.
Vanessa hadn't simply walked in after hearing us scream.
She had been there before it happened.
She knew.
Maybe she had even planned it.
I saved the recording to my private drive.
Then I made two backup copies.
Maya watched me.
"Good. Never trust one copy."
We returned to the sewing room.
I felt different now.
Still hurt.
Still angry.
But no longer helpless.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice spoke.
"Nia Carter?"
"Yes."
"My name is Camille Ross."
I froze.
Maya stared at me.
Camille continued.
"I believe you've recently discovered something concerning your portfolio."
My mouth went dry.
"How did you get my number?"
"I found it on your original scholarship application."
I swallowed.
"Did you meet Brianna?"
"Yes."
"Did she tell you those designs were hers?"
A pause.
"She did."
I closed my eyes.
Camille's voice softened.
"But I didn't believe her."
My knees almost gave way.
"Why not?"
"Because I remember your application very clearly, Nia. And I remember the story behind your work."
I pressed the phone tighter against my ear.
"My mother's story?"
"Yes."
I couldn't speak.
Camille continued.
"Your portfolio was one of the strongest submissions we received."
Tears filled my eyes.
"Then why did Brianna approach you?"
"She wanted your finalist position reconsidered."
My entire body went cold.
"She said your father had asked her to intervene."
I opened my eyes.
My father?
"No," I whispered.
Camille hesitated.
"She also brought a signed statement."
"What statement?"
"One claiming that you voluntarily withdrew from the competition."
I looked at Maya.
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear.
"I never signed anything."
"I suspected that."
"Whose signature was on it?"
Camille took a breath.
"Yours."
I gripped the table.
"That's impossible."
"I know. That's why I wanted to speak with you directly."
Then she said something that changed everything.
"Nia, I need you to check whether your original application documents are still in your possession."
I opened the bottom drawer.
The folder was gone.
Every original sketch.
Every handwritten note.
Every signed form.
Gone.
Camille's voice came through the phone.
"Nia? Are you there?"
I stared into the empty drawer.
Then I heard the front door downstairs.
May you like
Vanessa and Brianna were home.
And Brianna was laughing.
