Chapter 5: What Was Hidden in the Devil's Dress
I couldn't stop looking at the photograph.
My original costume hung from a metal clothing rack against a bare brick wall. The crimson bodice was turned slightly toward the camera, showing the delicate crystal embroidery I'd spent weeks arranging by hand.
Someone had circled the center of the bodice in black ink.
CHECK INSIDE IT.
"Where was this picture taken?"" I asked.
Detective Lee placed the printout on the table.
"We're working on that.""
"That's my costume.""
"We know.""
"No, you don't understand."" I pointed at the image.
"I made every part of it. There shouldn't be anything inside the bodice except the lining and the boning.""
My father leaned closer.
"Could Brianna have hidden something in it?""
"She took it directly from my room. I didn't see her do anything to it.""
Detective Lee studied the photograph.
"Would you recognize the location if you saw it in person?""
"Probably. I paid attention to every place I went to buy materials. I've never seen that wall before.""
She nodded.
"We'll investigate the photograph and the messages. For now, I need you to avoid contacting Brianna or the unknown number.""
"I wasn't planning to contact either of them.""
"I know. But if they reach out to you, don't respond. Save the messages and let us know.""
My father thanked her, and we left the station shortly after midnight.
The drive home was quiet.
Rain tapped against the windshield, and streetlights slid across the dashboard in pale yellow streaks.
I held my trophy in my lap.
It looked different now.
A few hours earlier, it had represented everything I'd worked for. Now it felt like evidence in a case I didn't understand.
When we pulled into the driveway, the house was dark except for the light above the kitchen sink.
Vanessa sat at the table with her phone in front of her.
She looked up when we entered.
"Did they find anything?""
My father removed his jacket.
"They're investigating.""
"Did Nia tell them everything?""
I stared at her.
"Yes.""
Vanessa looked away.
"Good.""
I walked toward the stairs.
"Nia," she called.
I stopped.
She pushed her chair back and stood.
"I need to apologize.""
The words sounded so unfamiliar coming from her that I almost thought I'd misheard.
"For what?"" I asked.
Vanessa folded her arms, then unfolded them again.
"For this morning. For allowing Brianna to take your costume.""
I waited.
She glanced at my father.
"I shouldn't have let her do that.""
"No," I said.
"You shouldn't have.""
Her mouth tightened, but she continued.
"I was trying to keep her happy. She'd been upset about the competition for weeks.""
"Why?""
"Because she knew you were good at designing clothes. She thought everyone would compare you.""
I stared at her.
"So you decided it was easier to take my costume than teach her to respect me?""
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
"I thought you would forgive her.""
"Why?""
She looked up.
"Because you're the reasonable one.""
Something inside me went still.
There it was.
The real reason.
I'd been expected to absorb every insult, every stolen possession, every unfair demand because I was the girl who didn't cause trouble.
Brianna could behave however she wanted, and I was supposed to make the consequences disappear.
"Being reasonable doesn't mean I have to let people hurt me," I said.
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"I know.""
"No, I don't think you do.""
I turned toward the stairs.
"Nia, please. I'm scared for my daughter.""
I looked back.
For the first time, I believed her.
She was frightened. She didn't know where Brianna was or whether her daughter had been involved in something far more dangerous than she'd imagined.
But fear didn't erase what she'd done.
"I hope she's safe," I said.
"I really do.""
Then I went upstairs.
My bedroom looked exactly as I'd left it that morning.
The empty mannequin still stood beside the sewing table, its wooden base cracked from the fall.
I set my trophy down and sat in my mother's old chair.
For a long time, I simply listened to the house.
Then I noticed something beneath the table.
A small silver button.
I picked it up.
It had fallen from the Crimson Devil Princess costume when Brianna had ripped it off the mannequin.
I turned it over between my fingers.
And suddenly remembered something.
Three weeks earlier, I'd noticed a strange tear in the lining of the bodice. I'd repaired it myself, stitching the seam closed with crimson thread.
But when I'd tried the costume on yesterday, the bodice had felt slightly heavier than it should have.
I'd assumed it was the extra crystals.
Now I wondered.
I pulled out my sketchbook and found the original design.
I'd drawn the bodice from the front and back, noting every seam, every layer, and every piece of boning.
Then I opened the photograph Detective Lee had shown me.
The black circle was positioned exactly where the front lining overlapped the inner structure.
My hands went cold.
What if someone had put something inside my costume?
What if that was why the unknown person wanted Brianna to take it?
I grabbed my phone and called Detective Lee.
She answered after two rings.
"Nia? Is everything all right?""
"I remembered something about the costume.""
"Go ahead.""
"The bodice felt heavier when I tried it on. And the photograph shows a circle around the exact spot where the lining overlaps.""
There was a pause.
"Do you think someone could have placed an object inside it?""
"Yes.""
"Do not attempt to retrieve the costume yourself. If you know where it is, tell us.""
"I don't know where it is. But I might know how someone could access the lining without leaving an obvious mark.""
"Explain.""
I described the seam, the hidden overlap, and the small opening I'd repaired.
Detective Lee asked me several questions, then told me she'd arrange for the costume to be located and examined.
"One more thing," I said.
"What is it?""
"I think someone knew about that hidden opening before the competition.""
"Why?""
"Because I only discovered it by accident while sewing. You'd have to know how the bodice was constructed to find it.""
Detective Lee's voice grew more serious.
"Did you show the costume to anyone?""
I thought about the months I'd spent working on it.
My father had seen the finished design. Harper had seen some sketches. A few classmates had watched me work in art club.
And Brianna had stood beside the mannequin that morning.
But someone else had visited our house.
Someone I hadn't thought about.
Three days earlier, Vanessa had hosted a small gathering for her friends. One of them had come upstairs looking for a bathroom and wandered into my room.
She'd been fascinated by the costume.
She'd asked how I made the wings, how I attached the crystals, and whether I used hidden pockets in my designs.
I hadn't thought anything of it.
Her name was Celeste Ward.
Vanessa's closest friend.
And a former costume designer.
"Detective," I said slowly, "there's someone you should talk to.""
I explained who Celeste was and what she'd asked me.
Detective Lee wrote down the details.
"Thank you. We'll look into it.""
After the call ended, I sat in silence.
Celeste had praised my work that afternoon. She'd told me the bodice looked professionally constructed and asked whether I'd considered applying to design school.
At the time, I'd been flattered.
Now every compliment felt suspicious.
I opened my social media account and searched for the anonymous comment beneath my original sketch.
It was still there.
The account had no profile picture and only one follower.
But when I clicked the username, I noticed something strange.
The account followed Celeste Ward.
My pulse quickened.
I took screenshots of everything and sent them to Detective Lee.
Then I closed the app.
For the first time that night, I felt tired enough to sleep.
I changed out of my fallen angel costume, carefully folding each layer and placing the wings on my desk.
As I removed the last strap from the harness, something slipped from a hidden pocket beneath the corset.
A tiny folded piece of paper.
I froze.
I hadn't sewn any paper into my costume.
Slowly, I unfolded it.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
There was no name, no explanation, only a short sentence.
*YOUR MOTHER KNEW WHAT THEY DID.*
I read it again.
Then a third time.
My mother?
What could she possibly have known?
She'd died five years ago.
I pressed the paper flat against my desk, my mind racing through memories.
My mother had worked with designers across the state. She'd created costumes for local theaters and helped students prepare for art competitions.
She'd also kept meticulous notebooks, filling them with sketches, measurements, fabric samples, and notes about every project she'd completed.
After she died, I'd stored those notebooks in a box beneath my bed.
I'd never read most of them.
There were too many memories attached to the pages.
But now I crawled beneath the bed and pulled the box into the light.
Dust rose as I lifted the lid.
Inside were twelve notebooks, a bundle of old photographs, and a small envelope with my name written across the front in my mother's handwriting.
I hadn't seen the envelope before.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of my mother standing beside a younger woman in a theater workshop.
The woman was smiling.
She wore a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.
I turned the photograph over.
On the back, my mother had written:
The night everything changed. Never trust Celeste with the truth.
I stopped breathing.
Because the woman standing beside my mother wasn't a stranger.
It was Celeste Ward.
And beneath the photograph, folded into the envelope, was a second note.
May you like
One line.
*If Celeste ever comes looking for Nia, find the red ledger first.*
