Chapter 4: The Accusation That Could Destroy Everything
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
I read the email again.
Then I enlarged the attached photograph.
It was my sketch.
Not the original drawing from my mother's portfolio.
My drawing.
The one I had made three months earlier, sitting at the sewing table she had left behind. The one I had hidden beneath the bottom drawer because I was afraid Brianna would laugh at it.
Someone had photographed it.
Someone had submitted it to my school.
And that someone was my stepsister.
"She's accusing you of stealing your own mother's design," Margaret said quietly.
I nodded.
"She knows exactly what she's doing.""
Margaret took the phone from my hand and read the message.
"There's something strange here.""
"What?""
"The complaint claims this design belongs to Brianna.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
Margaret pointed to the bottom of the email.
"Look at the attached declaration.""
I scrolled down.
There it was.
A signed statement claiming that Brianna Carter had created the original turquoise-and-silver design as part of an independent fashion project.
It included a date.
Six months earlier.
My stomach twisted.
"That's impossible. I only started working on this dress three months ago.""
Margaret studied the signature.
"Did Brianna ever have access to your mother's sketches?""
"She has been in my room countless times.""
"Did she photograph them?""
"I don't know.""
Margaret exhaled slowly.
"Then we need evidence.""
I looked at the photograph again.
The design was unmistakable.
But there was something else.
In the bottom-right corner, barely visible beneath the signature, was a small handwritten mark.
Three tiny stars arranged in a triangle.
I leaned closer.
My mother used that symbol on every original design.
It was her signature.
Brianna had copied it.
"Margaret, look.""
She examined the image.
Her eyes narrowed.
"That's Elena's mark.""
"Exactly.""
"Then this may be easier to challenge than I thought.""
"How?""
"Your mother registered that symbol as part of her design archive. It is documented in the original estate inventory.""
I swallowed.
"Can we prove Brianna copied it?""
"With the original sketches, the estate records, and your mother's dated notebooks, yes. But first, we need to prevent the school from taking disciplinary action against you.""
My phone rang again.
Dad.
I answered.
"Nia, where are you?""
"At a café.""
"Come home. Now.""
"Dad, I need you to listen. Brianna submitted a false complaint against me.""
There was silence.
Then he sighed.
"Your stepmother has already explained the situation.""
"Of course she has. But she lied.""
"Nia, please don't make this harder.""
"Have you seen the complaint?""
"Yes.""
"Did you look at the sketch?""
"Yes.""
"Then you know I didn't steal anything.""
His voice became sharper.
"I know that this family has been under considerable stress lately.""
I closed my eyes.
"That's not an answer.""
"Come home. We will discuss everything.""
He ended the call.
Margaret placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't go alone.""
"I have to. He's my father.""
"And he's being given only one side of the story.""
She took a business card from her purse.
"Keep this. It's the attorney's number. Call me if anything happens.""
I nodded.
Then I left.
The moment I entered our house, I knew something was wrong.
My sewing table had been moved.
The drawers were open.
Fabric was scattered across the floor.
My scissors were missing.
And the sketch of the Phoenix Dress was gone.
I rushed into the living room.
"Where's my drawing?""
Vanessa sat on the sofa with a cup of coffee.
Brianna was beside her, scrolling through her phone.
My father stood near the fireplace.
He looked exhausted.
"Sit down, Nia," he said.
"Where's my sketch?""
Vanessa took a slow sip of coffee.
"We removed some unnecessary clutter from your room.""
"Where is it?""
Brianna looked up.
"Why are you so obsessed with that ugly thing?""
I turned toward her.
"You stole it.""
"Prove it.""
My father raised his hand.
"Enough.""
I faced him.
"Dad, Brianna submitted a complaint to my school claiming that I stole her design.""
He rubbed his forehead.
"She says you copied her work.""
"That's ridiculous!""
Vanessa placed her cup on the table.
"Richard, I told you this would happen. Nia has become obsessed with competing against Brianna.""
Brianna crossed her legs.
"I've been developing my fashion portfolio for months. I showed Mom my designs. Then Nia suddenly started making something almost identical.""
I stared at her.
"You've never designed anything.""
Her face hardened.
"That's a lie.""
"Then show me your sketches.""
Brianna laughed.
"I don't have to prove anything to you.""
I looked at my father.
"Please ask her to show you.""
He didn't respond.
Instead, Vanessa reached into a folder.
"I think we should focus on resolving this situation.""
She placed a document on the coffee table.
"What is that?"" I asked.
"A simple agreement," she replied.
"If you sign it, we can avoid a public dispute.""
I approached the table.
The heading read:
*VOLUNTARY WITHDRAWAL OF DESIGN CLAIM AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY ACKNOWLEDGMENT.*
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
My stomach dropped.
The document stated that I acknowledged Brianna as the original creator of the Phoenix Dress design.
It also contained a clause transferring any rights I might possess in the related sketches and garments.
I looked up.
"Are you serious?""
Vanessa folded her hands.
"It's a reasonable solution.""
"You want me to sign away my mother's designs?""
My father frowned.
"Your mother's designs?""
Vanessa immediately interrupted.
"Richard, don't let her confuse the issue.""
I turned to him.
"Dad, Mom left me a protected design archive. Margaret Lewis confirmed it. I'm the beneficiary.""
His expression changed.
"Margaret?""
"She worked with Mom for fourteen years.""
Vanessa stood.
"That woman has no business interfering in our family.""
"Why are you afraid of her?""
Vanessa's cheeks flushed.
"I'm not afraid of anyone.""
"Then why won't you let me speak to Dad?""
Brianna suddenly stood and grabbed the document.
"Just sign it, Nia!""
I stepped back.
"Don't touch me.""
She threw the papers onto the table.
"You think you're special because Mom left you some old drawings?""
I stared at her.
"At least they're mine.""
Her face twisted.
"You're always doing this. Always acting like you're better than me.""
"Because I have something you can't steal?""
Brianna slapped her palm against the table.
"Mom! Tell her!""
Vanessa moved between us.
"Richard, you see what I mean? This is exactly why she shouldn't attend graduation.""
My father looked at me.
"Nia, I need you to calm down.""
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone keeps telling me to calm down while they take everything from me.""
Then I noticed something.
A corner of brown leather sticking out from the black briefcase beside Vanessa's chair.
My mother's portfolio.
I recognized the brass clasp immediately.
My heart began pounding.
"That's it.""
Vanessa followed my gaze.
Her hand moved toward the briefcase.
I stepped forward.
"Give me my mother's portfolio.""
"It's not yours.""
"The estate documents say otherwise.""
Vanessa grabbed the handle.
"Richard, please tell her to stop.""
My father moved toward me.
"Nia, leave it alone.""
I looked at him.
"Have you ever even opened it?""
He hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
He hadn't.
Vanessa pulled the briefcase behind her.
"You're not taking this anywhere.""
"Why?""
"Because I said so.""
"What's inside?""
"Old papers.""
"Then you shouldn't mind showing them.""
Vanessa's expression became cold.
"You're eighteen, Nia. Don't confuse that with being in charge.""
I pulled out my phone.
"Then let's call the attorney.""
Vanessa's hand tightened around the briefcase.
For the first time, she looked genuinely frightened.
And then Brianna did something I never expected.
She stepped behind her mother and whispered:
"Mom, just tell her about the buyer.""
The room went silent.
Vanessa turned sharply.
"Brianna!""
But it was too late.
I looked between them.
"What buyer?""
My father slowly turned toward his wife.
"What buyer, Vanessa?""
She opened her mouth.
No words came out.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Margaret appeared.
I found the original licensing agreement. Nia, you need to see the signature on page four.
I opened the attached photograph.
And the moment I saw the signature, my entire world shifted.
It wasn't Brianna's.
May you like
It wasn't Vanessa's.
It was my father's.
