Chapter 9: The Design That Was Never Mine
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
My father stood beside the car, his keys hanging loosely from his fingers.
The parking lot lights buzzed overhead.
Somewhere beyond the station, a siren wailed and faded into the distance.
I looked down at the costume bag hanging from my shoulder.
My fallen angel.
The design that had saved me from humiliation.
The design that had won the competition.
The design I believed I'd created from nothing but scraps, desperation, and my mother's memory.
"How do you know?"" I whispered.
My father closed his eyes.
"Because I saw the sketch.""
"When?""
"Before your mother died.""
I felt as if the ground had shifted beneath my feet.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
He looked at me helplessly.
"Because I didn't think it mattered anymore.""
I laughed once, sharply.
"Didn't matter? Dad, I just won a competition with that design. Celeste says she planned to stop me because the judges recognized her work. And now you're telling me Mom drew it before I was born?""
"I know how it sounds.""
"Then explain it!""
He looked toward the station doors.
"We should go inside. Detective Lee needs to hear this.""
"No."" My voice cracked.
"I need to hear it first.""
My father leaned against the car.
"When your mother was pregnant with you, she was developing a collection inspired by angels and fallen kingdoms. She wanted to create a series of costumes showing the difference between innocence and corruption.""
I stared at him.
"She designed my costume?""
"Not exactly as you wore it. She had several sketches. One featured black-and-white wings, a silver bodice, and a layered gray skirt.""
My hands began to shake.
"Where are the sketches?""
"I don't know.""
"You just said you saw them!""
"I did. They were in the black portfolio.""
"And now?""
"After your mother died, I couldn't bear to look at them. I put the portfolio away with her other things.""
I stepped back.
"So when Vanessa took the sketches, you didn't even notice?""
His face crumpled.
"I thought she'd only taken the paperwork. I didn't know the portfolio was missing until now.""
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I stared at him, trying to reconcile the father who had taught me to ride a bicycle with the man who had allowed so much of my mother's life to disappear.
"Did you know the design was called The Fallen Angel?""
He nodded.
"Your mother used that name in her notes.""
I looked down at my hands.
I had thought the idea came to me because I needed something different. Because I wanted to turn Brianna's cruelty into something beautiful.
But now I wondered how much of the design had come from memories I couldn't consciously access.
Had I seen the sketch as a child?
Had I absorbed the shapes and colors while sitting beside my mother at her sewing machine?
Or had someone deliberately placed the idea in front of me?
My father touched my shoulder.
"Nia, your costume is still yours. You made it. You chose the materials.
You built the wings. You brought the design to life.""
"But the idea wasn't mine.""
"That doesn't make your work meaningless.""
I looked at him.
"Would you say that if Celeste had won with one of Mom's designs?""
He had no answer.
We returned to the station.
Detective Lee listened while my father explained what he remembered. She then showed us photographs of the portfolio recovered from Vanessa's house.
The officers had catalogued the contents.
Original sketches.
Contracts.
Letters.
Fabric samples.
And a page titled The Fallen Angel.
The photograph showed my mother's drawing in delicate pencil lines.
The wings were almost identical to mine.
The bodice was slightly different, with a curved neckline and a row of silver stones along the waist.
The skirt had three layers instead of five.
But the essential design was unmistakable.
I sat down heavily.
"She really did draw it.""
Detective Lee placed the photograph on the table.
"Yes. The date written on the page is consistent with your father's account. We haven't independently verified every detail yet, but the document appears to be an original.""
I stared at the drawing.
My mother's signature rested in the lower corner.
Margaret Carter.
Beneath it, she had written a note.
For Nia, when she's old enough to understand that darkness doesn't erase the light.
My throat tightened.
I touched the paper with one finger.
She'd created it for me.
Not for an exhibition.
Not for Celeste.
For me.
Detective Lee allowed me a moment before continuing.
"We also found several letters indicating that Celeste had access to your mother's work. Some appear to show that she submitted designs under her own name.""
"Can she be charged?""
"That depends on the evidence, the applicable laws, and the circumstances surrounding each allegation. We'll consult the appropriate authorities. But the material gives us a clearer picture of the longstanding dispute.""
"What about the fire?""
"We have evidence suggesting the device was deliberately installed to cause a disruption. We're examining whether the person responsible intended to create a dangerous situation or whether the incident escalated beyond the plan.""
I thought about Brianna's message.
You promised nobody would get hurt.
"Can I speak to her now?""
Detective Lee hesitated.
"She's agreed to give another statement. I think hearing what she has to say may help, but I want you to understand that you don't owe her a conversation.""
"I know.""
I took a breath.
"I still want to hear it.""
An officer brought Brianna into a separate interview room twenty minutes later.
She wore a borrowed sweatshirt and jeans. Her blonde hair hung loose around her face, and her eyes were swollen from crying.
Without her makeup, her jewelry, or the crimson dress, she looked younger than fifteen.
She looked frightened.
When she saw me, she stopped.
"Nia.""
I remained standing.
"Brianna.""
She glanced at the detective.
"Can we talk alone?""
Detective Lee shook her head.
"No. An officer will remain present, and you may end the conversation whenever you choose.""
Brianna swallowed.
"Fine.""
We sat across from each other.
For a long time, she stared at her hands.
Then she spoke.
"I didn't know it would turn into a fire.""
I said nothing.
"I swear, Nia. Celeste told me the equipment would create a blackout. She said the judges would suspend the competition, and everyone would think your costume was unfinished or dangerous.""
"Why would they think that?""
"Because she said there would be smoke. A special-effects machine. Something to make the stage look dramatic.""
I remembered the smoke curling beneath the curtain.
"And you believed her?""
Brianna's eyes filled with tears.
"She said it was harmless.""
"You knew there was a timer.""
She looked away.
"Yes.""
"Did you know people were trapped behind the curtain?""
"No!""
Her voice cracked.
"I didn't know the crew would be in there. I thought they'd already cleared the equipment area.""
"Then why didn't you stop it?""
She pressed her palms against her eyes.
"Because I was scared.""
I leaned forward.
"You were scared of Celeste, but you weren't scared of hurting me?""
Brianna lowered her hands.
"I didn't think it would hurt you.""
"You shoved me into a chair. You stole three months of my work. You laughed while I begged you to give it back.""
"I know.""
"You watched me cry.""
"I know!""
She began sobbing.
For once, I didn't rush to comfort her.
She had spent years making my pain seem unimportant. I wasn't going to pretend hers erased mine.
After a moment, Brianna wiped her face.
"Celeste told me you were going to expose something about our family. She said your mother had left evidence that could ruin Mom's life.""
"Vanessa?""
Brianna nodded.
"She said if I could get the costume and find the hidden compartment, we'd know whether you had the original sketches.""
My stomach tightened.
"So that's why you took it.""
"Yes.""
"What did you find?""
Brianna shook her head.
"Nothing. I couldn't find the opening. I was going to ask Celeste what to do next, but then you showed up wearing that angel costume.""
She looked at me.
"When you won, Celeste started sending messages. She said the second plan had to happen immediately.""
"What did you do?""
"I went backstage. I thought I could stop it.""
I stared at her.
"You went backstage after the timer had started?""
"I tried to find the technician.""
"Why didn't you tell anyone?""
"Because I thought they'd blame me.""
I sat back.
"You were right.""
Brianna flinched.
The silence stretched between us.
Then she reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled out a small folded paper.
"I kept this.""
She slid it across the table.
It was a handwritten note on cream-colored paper.
The handwriting matched the message found beside the equipment.
*SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO WIN.*
Beneath it was a second line.
Find the portfolio. Destroy the original design.
I stared at the words.
"Where did you get this?""
"Celeste gave it to me the day before the competition.""
"Why did you keep it?""
Brianna looked down.
"Because I knew something was wrong.""
"Then why did you continue?""
Her voice became almost inaudible.
"Because I wanted to win.""
I felt a strange emptiness settle in my chest.
Not surprise.
Not anger.
Just disappointment.
Brianna had wanted the attention, the trophy, and the admiration that came with wearing my costume. Celeste had offered her a way to take it all.
And Brianna had accepted.
Even when the plan began to unravel, she'd chosen silence.
"Did you know Celeste had stolen Mom's designs?"" I asked.
Brianna nodded.
"She told me your mother had copied her work. She said the portfolio contained proof.""
I stared at her.
"She lied.""
"I know that now.""
"How?""
Brianna reached into her pocket again and pulled out a small silver pendant.
A crescent moon.
I recognized it from the photograph of my mother and Celeste.
"Celeste gave me this," Brianna said.
"She told me it belonged to her grandmother. But I found the same pendant in the portfolio photograph.""
I looked at the pendant.
"Why are you showing me this?""
"Because there's something written on the back.""
I turned it over.
Tiny letters had been engraved into the metal.
M.C. — C.W.
Margaret Carter.
Celeste Ward.
The pendant had belonged to both of them.
Or perhaps it had once represented something they shared.
Brianna looked at me through tear-filled eyes.
"Celeste told me your mother stole it. She said your mom betrayed her first.""
I placed the pendant on the table.
"She told you whatever you needed to hear.""
Brianna nodded.
"I know.""
For the first time, she looked directly at me.
"I'm sorry, Nia.""
I wanted to believe her.
But apologies were easy when the consequences had finally arrived.
"What are you going to do now?"" I asked.
"I'm going to tell the police everything.""
"And Vanessa?""
Brianna closed her eyes.
"She knew more than she admitted. But she didn't know about the fire.""
I studied her face.
"Are you protecting her?""
"No."" She swallowed.
"I'm trying to tell the truth.""
Detective Lee ended the interview shortly afterward.
As an officer escorted Brianna out, she turned back toward me.
"Nia?""
I looked at her.
"I really did think your costume was beautiful.""
I held her gaze.
"You should have told me that before you stole it.""
She lowered her head and walked away.
I returned to the main interview room, where my father waited beside the recovered portfolio.
The red ledger lay open on the table.
Detective Lee had reached the final page.
There, beneath a drawing of the fallen angel, my mother had written a paragraph.
I read it slowly.
If this design is ever completed, I hope Nia understands that its beauty does not belong to the person who first imagined it. It belongs to the person who gives it life.
My eyes filled with tears.
For the first time since Celeste's phone call, I felt the ground beneath me again.
My mother had anticipated that someone might claim ownership of her work.
She'd left me something more important than a sketch.
Permission to create.
Detective Lee closed the ledger.
"We have enough information to pursue several lines of investigation. But there's one final detail we need to clarify.""
She showed us a photograph taken from the school's security cameras.
It captured a person entering the equipment corridor shortly before the fire.
The figure wore a dark coat and carried a black case.
The face was partly hidden by a hood.
But the person had a distinctive silver crescent pendant around their neck.
I looked at the image.
Then at the pendant Brianna had given me.
My father whispered, "Celeste.""
Detective Lee shook her head.
"We can't identify the person from this image alone.""
She enlarged the photograph.
The figure turned slightly toward the camera.
And I saw something that made my blood run cold.
The person wasn't wearing a woman's coat.
It was the uniform of a school staff member.
Someone who had access to the stage, the equipment, and the students.
Someone who had helped make the competition possible.
Detective Lee pointed to the figure's left hand.
A gold ring gleamed beneath the sleeve.
I recognized that ring.
I'd seen it every morning in the classroom.
It belonged to our school's vice principal, Mr. Richard Hale.
May you like
And beneath the photograph, the detective had written a single sentence.
*Celeste may not have been the person who installed the device.*
