Chapter 8
I screamed so loudly that my father came running.
"Dad!"
He rushed into the sewing room.
I pointed toward the empty space beneath the window.
"Mom's machine!"
He stopped.
The old sewing machine had been there for as long as I could remember.
Its worn wooden case was scratched.
Its metal wheel squeaked.
The gold lettering had faded.
But it still worked.
And it was the one thing I had always promised myself I would protect.
My father looked around.
"Are you sure it wasn't moved?"
I stared at him.
"Where would I move it?"
He immediately nodded.
"You're right."
I pressed my hands against my face.
My new gown was still on the table.
But several fabric panels had been slashed.
The thread had been pulled from the machine I borrowed from school.
Someone had deliberately tried to destroy my work.
Again.
Maya checked the window.
"The latch was forced."
Dad took out his phone.
"I'm calling the police."
I looked at him.
"Will they believe me?"
He met my eyes.
"Yes. And I'm going to make sure they have everything we know."
I wanted to trust him.
For the first time in years, I almost did.
The police arrived.
An officer named Detective Simone Brooks took photographs.
She was calm and careful.
She asked when we'd last seen the machine.
Who had access to the house?
Whether anything else was missing?
I showed her the threatening messages.
Then the camera recordings.
Unfortunately, the camera facing the rear entrance had been disconnected.
Someone had known exactly where to enter without being recorded.
Detective Brooks examined the window.
"Whoever did this may have known the house."
I swallowed.
"Brianna."
She looked at me.
"Do you have evidence connecting her to the break-in?"
I shook my head.
"Not yet."
She nodded.
"Then we'll follow the evidence."
Those words frustrated me.
I wanted justice immediately.
But Aunt Lorraine reminded me that accusations weren't the same as proof.
Later that afternoon, Maya received a message from her aunt at the Whitmore Hotel.
It contained a photograph.
A moving-company van parked outside a storage facility.
And beside it stood Brianna.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
Maya showed Detective Brooks.
The detective studied it.
"Where is this facility?"
Maya gave her the address.
Then Detective Brooks asked another question.
"Does your mother’s sewing machine have a serial number or identifying marks?"
I nodded.
"There's a tiny butterfly engraved underneath."
My voice broke.
"Mom put it there."
The detective wrote it down.
Then she left.
I returned to the sewing room.
I wanted to work.
I needed to work.
But every time I looked at the empty space, I started crying again.
My father stood beside me.
"Nia, I'm going to find it."
I shook my head.
"You don't understand."
He looked at me.
"Then tell me."
I turned toward him.
"That machine was the only place I still felt close to Mom."
His face crumpled.
"I know."
"No, Dad. You don't."
He didn't interrupt.
I continued.
"After she died, I would sit here and pretend she was right beside me."
My voice shook.
"I could hear her telling me to slow down when my stitches got crooked."
Tears rolled down his face.
I had never seen him cry like that.
"I failed you," he whispered.
I looked away.
He continued.
"I thought working hard and providing for you meant I was being a good father."
I swallowed.
"But you weren't here."
"I know."
"And when I told you things were wrong, you believed Vanessa."
"I know."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
He took a long breath.
"Because admitting you were right meant admitting I'd brought someone into this house who was hurting you."
I stared at him.
"And I was a coward about facing that."
The room went silent.
He didn't ask me to forgive him.
He didn't try to justify himself.
He simply stood there, ashamed.
Finally, he said, "I'm going to spend the rest of my life earning back your trust, whether that takes months or years."
I wanted to hug him.
But I wasn't ready.
So I nodded.
"Then start by helping me finish."
He wiped his face.
"Tell me what to do."
For the next several hours, my father became my assistant.
He sorted fabric.
Cut thread.
Held patterns.
And ruined three seams before I taught him how to handle a needle properly.
For the first time in years, we laughed together.
Maya brought dinner.
Aunt Lorraine arrived with extra supplies.
Mrs. Price lent me another sewing machine.
And one by one, people began showing up.
Keisha brought crystals.
My neighbor, Mrs. Daniels, brought turquoise satin.
An older woman from church arrived with a box of vintage silver buttons.
I stared at everyone.
"Why are you helping me?"
Mrs. Daniels smiled.
"Because your mother helped half this neighborhood."
I swallowed hard.
She continued.
"Now it's our turn."
By midnight, my dress was almost complete.
I couldn't believe it.
The damaged sections had become layers of shining petals.
The silver bodice reflected the light.
The turquoise panels flowed like water.
I looked at my reflection.
For the first time, I didn't see a girl Brianna had humiliated.
I saw a designer.
Then my father's phone rang.
Detective Brooks.
He answered.
We all stopped working.
After a brief conversation, he looked at me.
"They found the machine."
I jumped to my feet.
"Where?"
"At the storage facility."
My heart pounded.
"Is it okay?"
He listened.
Then his expression changed.
"The machine is intact."
I started crying with relief.
But he wasn't finished.
"They also found several boxes of your original sketches."
Maya gasped.
My father listened again.
Then his face went pale.
"What?"
I gripped his arm.
"Dad?"
He stared at me.
Detective Brooks had discovered something else inside Brianna's rented storage unit.
Contracts.
Invoices.
And dozens of garments being prepared for her fashion show.
Every design copied from my portfolio.
But one document stood out.
An agreement bearing Vanessa's name.
It promised a private investor that Brianna owned all the designs.
And guaranteed repayment using the proceeds from the house refinancing.
My mother’s house had been used to finance the theft of my own work.
Then Detective Brooks told Dad something even worse.
May you like
The investor was accusing Brianna and Vanessa of fraud.
And he was threatening to seize everything connected to their business.
