Chapter 8: The Woman Who Stole My Mother's Dream
I showed Detective Lee the photograph immediately.
She examined it without speaking.
The black portfolio lay on a wooden desk beside a stack of fabric samples. Its brass corners were tarnished, but I recognized the small crescent-shaped mark near the clasp.
My mother had carved that mark herself.
She used it to identify her personal designs.
"Where did Vanessa send this?"" Detective Lee asked.
"She didn't send an address. Just the photograph and a message telling me to come alone.""
"You're not going anywhere alone.""
"I wasn't planning to.""
My father stood beside us, his face drawn with worry.
"Vanessa said she found something in Brianna's room. We need to get to her.""
Detective Lee nodded.
"We'll contact her directly. If she's willing to provide evidence, we'll arrange a safe place for her to speak with us.""
"But what if Celeste gets to her first?"" I asked.
"Then we move quickly. But we don't take unnecessary risks.""
I knew she was right.
Still, every minute felt like another piece of my mother's life was slipping away.
That evening, Detective Lee arranged for us to meet Vanessa at the police station.
She arrived wearing a plain gray sweater, with no makeup and her hair tied back. She looked exhausted.
When she saw me, she stopped in the doorway.
"I wasn't sure you'd come.""
"I came because I want the truth.""
Vanessa nodded.
"I owe you that.""
Detective Lee gestured toward a chair.
"Please sit down, Mrs. Carter. Start with the phone.""
Vanessa placed a small black smartphone on the table.
"I found it hidden beneath Brianna's mattress. She must have forgotten to take it with her when she left the house.""
"How do you know it belongs to Brianna?"" the detective asked.
"Because I saw her using it two days before the competition. She told me it was an old phone she'd found in a drawer.""
"Did you examine the messages?""
Vanessa nodded.
"I shouldn't have. But after the fire, I was terrified. I wanted to know what she'd been doing.""
Detective Lee put on gloves before touching the device.
"What did you find?""
Vanessa took a shaky breath.
"Messages from an unknown number. Instructions about the competition. At first, they were about making Nia look foolish.""
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?""
Vanessa looked at me.
"Someone told Brianna to make sure your costume was damaged before you went onstage. They wanted you to panic and withdraw.""
My hands curled into fists.
"But she stole it.""
"Yes.""
"She shoved me.""
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
"I know.""
"And when that didn't work, she went ahead with the other plan?""
"I think so.""
Detective Lee raised a hand.
"Let's be precise. What did the messages say?""
Vanessa leaned forward.
"One said, 'If she won't withdraw, move to the second plan.'' Another said, 'The lights will go out. She'll be humiliated, and the judges will have no choice but to stop the show.''"
The room went silent.
"What was the second plan?"" I asked.
Vanessa shook her head.
"I don't know exactly. The messages refer to a device, but Brianna kept asking whether it was safe.""
Detective Lee turned the phone slightly.
"Did the sender provide any details about the device?""
"Only that it was already installed behind the stage.""
I remembered the technician and the timer.
"Was there a message about me winning?""
Vanessa nodded.
"At 5:58, Brianna sent, 'She's still going to perform.'' The reply was, 'Let her. The final sequence will take care of everything.''"
My skin prickled.
The final sequence.
The lights going out.
The smoke.
The fire.
Someone had built a plan around the competition schedule and expected the chaos to frighten me into humiliation.
But the plan had become dangerous.
And Brianna had been part of it.
"Why didn't you tell the police all this earlier?"" I asked.
Vanessa looked at me with wet eyes.
"Because one of the messages mentioned me.""
She reached into her handbag and took out a folded printout.
Detective Lee accepted it.
The message was brief.
Your mother should have kept her mouth shut. Don't make the same mistake.
Below it was a photograph of my mother's old sewing studio.
The windows had been shattered.
I stared at the image.
"When was this taken?""
Vanessa swallowed.
"Twenty years ago. The studio was vandalized shortly before the exhibition where Celeste won the grant.""
My father leaned forward.
"Margaret told me someone had broken into the studio, but she said nothing had been stolen.""
"She lied," Vanessa whispered.
"The original sketches were taken. She didn't report it because Celeste threatened her.""
"Threatened her how?"" Detective Lee asked.
Vanessa looked at the floor.
"She told Margaret that if she accused her publicly, she'd make sure nobody in the industry ever hired her again. She had connections. She knew judges, theater directors, and people who controlled the exhibitions.""
I felt sick.
My mother had spent years creating beautiful things while someone quietly stole the future she'd worked toward.
And after she died, the person who betrayed her had continued to profit from that work.
"Why did you become friends with Celeste?"" I asked Vanessa.
She flinched.
"I wasn't her friend at first. I was an assistant at a fashion studio where she consulted. She helped me get a job. She made me feel important.""
"And then?""
"Then she told me what she'd done. She said Margaret had kept evidence that could destroy her career. She wanted me to find it.""
I stared at her.
"So you married my father because you thought you could get access to Mom's things?""
"No!""
Vanessa's answer came too quickly.
She took a breath.
"I met your father because we were introduced by a mutual friend. I loved him. I did.
But when I discovered who he was, Celeste started asking questions. She wanted to know whether Margaret had left any records behind.""
My father looked devastated.
"Did you tell her about the storage unit?""
"No. I didn't know about it until today.""
"Did you take the portfolio?""
Vanessa shook her head.
"I found it in Brianna's room. She'd hidden it inside an old suitcase.""
I stared at the photograph again.
"Why would Brianna have it?""
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"Because Celeste told her to find it.""
A heavy silence settled over the table.
My stepsister hadn't simply stolen my costume.
She'd been searching for something.
Something connected to my mother.
And she'd used the competition as an opportunity to get close to it.
Detective Lee stood.
"We need to locate the portfolio and verify the contents. Mrs. Carter, do you know where it is now?""
Vanessa nodded.
"At my house. I left it inside my bedroom closet.""
"We'll send officers to retrieve it.""
She looked at me.
"I wanted to bring it to you, but I was afraid Celeste would find out.""
I stared back.
"You could've told me years ago.""
"I know.""
"You watched Brianna bully me. You let her take my costume. You made me feel like I didn't belong in my own home.""
Vanessa's tears spilled over.
"I know.""
"You don't get to fix all that with one apology.""
"I know.""
Her quiet agreement left me with nothing to say.
For once, she wasn't making excuses.
But that didn't mean I trusted her.
Detective Lee left the room to coordinate the evidence collection.
My father sat beside me.
He reached for my hand, but I wasn't ready to take it.
"There's something I need to tell you," I said.
He nodded.
"I know you were trying to protect me. But you can't keep deciding which truths I'm allowed to know.""
"I understand.""
"No, Dad. You have to understand. Mom left behind a warning.
You ignored it. Vanessa knew things about her work, and you trusted her without asking questions. Now someone is using those secrets to threaten me.""
His eyes filled with tears.
"I should've listened to your mother.""
"Yes.""
The word hurt him.
It hurt me, too.
But it was true.
"I can't change what happened," he said.
"But I can stop hiding from it.""
I looked at him for a long moment.
"Then start by telling me everything you remember about Mom's studio.""
He nodded.
And for the next hour, he told me stories I'd never heard.
About the tiny workshop where my mother spent her weekends.
About the theater director who once offered her a full-time position.
About the collection she planned to present at a national exhibition.
About the night she came home with torn sleeves and red paint on her hands after discovering the break-in.
Each detail added another piece to the picture.
My mother hadn't simply lost a competition.
She'd lost an entire future.
And she'd carried the truth until the day she died.
When we finally left the station, it was nearly nine.
A police officer called to say the portfolio had been recovered from Vanessa's bedroom closet. It was being taken to the evidence room for examination.
I felt a strange mixture of relief and dread.
The original designs might finally be found.
The truth might finally come out.
But one question remained.
Why had Brianna been so determined to find them?
As we walked toward the car, my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
I answered cautiously.
"Nia Carter?""
A woman's voice.
Smooth. Calm. Almost amused.
"Your mother was a talented woman.""
My blood turned cold.
"Who is this?""
"You know who I am.""
Celeste.
I looked at my father.
He immediately called Detective Lee.
Celeste continued speaking.
"She was also very stubborn. She could've had a wonderful career if she'd learned when to stop asking questions.""
"What do you want?""
"I want the ledger.""
"The police have it.""
A quiet laugh came through the phone.
"Do you really think a dusty notebook can prove anything? Those contracts are old. Those sketches are old. Everyone involved has moved on.""
"Not everyone.""
Her voice sharpened.
"Listen to me carefully, Nia. Your mother made a mistake by keeping records. Don't repeat it.""
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"Did you send Brianna to steal my costume?""
A pause.
Then Celeste said, "Your stepsister is an impressionable girl. She wanted to be admired. I gave her an opportunity.""
"An opportunity to hurt people?""
"I told her the device would create a brief blackout. Nothing more.""
"You knew there was a timer.""
Silence.
Then she sighed.
"Things became complicated when you won.""
I felt the air leave my lungs.
"So you planned the whole thing.""
"I planned a lesson. Brianna agreed to help. Vanessa agreed to stay quiet. And you were supposed to withdraw before the final announcement.""
"Why?""
"Because you were about to win more than a scholarship.""
I froze.
"What does that mean?""
Celeste's voice softened.
"Your design was beautiful, Nia. Disturbingly familiar. One of the judges had already recognized the similarities to my work.""
I stared at my father.
Celeste continued.
"If your design had been displayed at the fashion exhibition, someone might have started asking questions about where the original idea came from.""
"But it was my idea.""
"Was it?""
I could barely speak.
She gave a quiet, cruel laugh.
"Look inside your mother's red ledger. The last page contains a design she never finished. A design she called The Fallen Angel.""
My heart hammered.
"That's impossible.""
"Is it? Your mother drew it years before you were born.""
I looked down at my costume.
The black-and-white wings.
The silver bodice.
The smoky train.
Every detail I'd created from scraps that afternoon.
Celeste's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Tell me, Nia. Did you really invent that costume?""
The call ended.
I stood motionless beneath the parking lot lights.
My father stared at me.
"What did she say?""
I slowly lowered the phone.
"She says Mom designed the fallen angel before I was born.""
My father went pale.
May you like
Then he whispered the words that shattered everything I'd believed about my victory.
"She's telling the truth.""
