Chapter 5: The Price They Put on My Dreams
My father's handwriting looked painfully familiar.
I recognized the sharp downward stroke of the letter C, the way he crossed his sevens, and the small ink blot that appeared whenever he wrote too quickly.
I had seen that handwriting on birthday cards, school permission slips, and the notes he used to leave beside my mother's sewing machine when she was still alive.
Now I was seeing it beneath a declaration that had helped someone else claim my work.
"Tell me that isn't yours," I said.
My father looked at the screen.
"Nia—"
"Tell me.""
He swallowed.
"I signed it.""
The answer landed harder than I expected.
Vanessa immediately stepped between us.
"Your father was trying to help the family. You have no idea how difficult things have been financially.""
I turned toward her.
"What does that have to do with my dress?""
"Everything!""
Her voice rose, drawing attention from the rows of graduates and parents.
"You have spent years using this family's resources while refusing to contribute anything meaningful. We gave you a roof over your head. We paid bills. We kept you in school.""
"I paid for my school supplies and clothes.""
"With what money?""
"My wages.""
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"Your little part-time job? You think that covers everything?""
"No," I replied.
"But it covers the things you refused to buy for me.""
Her face tightened.
My father stepped forward.
"That's enough, both of you.""
I turned to him.
"You signed a document saying I gave permission to sell my design.""
"I didn't think it would become this serious.""
"You didn't think?""
My voice cracked.
"You knew I had entered the showcase. You knew I had spent months making the dress. You knew I wanted to wear it at graduation. And you still signed your name.""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Vanessa told me the design was a family project.""
"Did you ever see me working on it?""
"Yes.""
"Did you ever help me?""
"No.""
"Did you ever ask me to make it for the company?""
He looked down.
"No.""
I nodded slowly.
"Then what made you believe it belonged to you?""
He had no answer.
Rebecca stepped in.
"Mr. Carter, the university cannot determine the legal validity of a commercial agreement, but the document raises serious concerns about the accuracy of the claims made in the proposal.""
She gathered the pages.
"The university will preserve the materials submitted today and refer the commercial licensing issue to its legal department. Any questions about the proposed sale should be addressed through the appropriate channels.""
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"You're making this sound like a crime.""
"I'm explaining the university's process," Rebecca replied.
"Well, we won't be bullied.""
"No one is bullying you, Mrs. Hale.""
Vanessa turned toward me.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?""
I stared at her.
For years, I had imagined the day she would finally understand what she had done to me. I had imagined her apologizing, perhaps even admitting that she had been unfair.
But standing in front of her now, I felt no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
"No," I said.
"I wanted to graduate. That's all.""
Brianna suddenly began crying.
Not quietly.
She covered her face with both hands and sobbed loud enough for people in the front rows to turn around.
"You've ruined everything!"" she cried.
Vanessa rushed to her.
"Sweetheart, don't listen to them.""
Brianna grabbed her mother's arm.
"You promised me the company would launch today!""
My father looked sharply at her.
"Stop talking about the company.""
"Why?"" Brianna shouted.
"You were the one who said it would solve everything!""
The auditorium went still.
Rebecca glanced at the document.
"What exactly was supposed to be solved?""
Vanessa pulled Brianna away from the microphone.
"That's enough. We're leaving.""
Brianna resisted.
"No! I want everyone to know why we did it!""
My father's face turned gray.
"Not another word.""
But Brianna had already started.
"The bank was going to—"
Vanessa clamped a hand over her daughter's mouth.
The audience gasped.
For several seconds, they struggled in front of the stage while the security staff approached.
Rebecca raised her voice.
"Mrs. Hale, please release your daughter and step away from the microphone.""
Vanessa obeyed, but her eyes were blazing.
"This is a private financial matter.""
"Then it can remain private while we complete our review," Rebecca said.
"You and your family are welcome to leave the auditorium.""
Vanessa seized her handbag.
Brianna stood beside her, crying and trembling.
My father remained where he was.
I watched the three of them, and for the first time, I saw cracks in the perfect picture they had spent years presenting to the world.
Vanessa's designer clothes could not hide her fear.
Brianna's expensive jewelry could not silence the questions.
And my father's respectable reputation could not erase his signature.
Rebecca approached me.
"Nia, would you be comfortable providing a formal statement about the circumstances under which the dress was taken?""
"Yes.""
"Good. We can arrange that after graduation.""
I glanced toward the stage.
"Can I still participate in the ceremony?""
Her expression softened.
"Of course. Your graduation status is separate from this dispute. We have no reason to prevent you from receiving your degree.""
A breath escaped my lungs.
For the first time that morning, I felt my knees weaken with relief.
Maya rushed onto the stage and wrapped her arms around me.
"You did it," she whispered.
I shook my head against her shoulder.
"I haven't done anything.""
"Exactly. You told the truth. They did the rest themselves.""
I let out a shaky laugh.
Then I looked toward the front row.
My father was still standing there.
He approached slowly.
"Nia, can we talk somewhere private?""
I hesitated.
Maya stepped back but remained beside me.
"About what?"" I asked.
He glanced at her.
"Alone.""
"No.""
His jaw tightened.
"Nia, please.""
I studied his face.
He looked older than he had that morning. His tie was crooked, and sweat darkened the collar of his shirt.
For a moment, I remembered him carrying me into the house after I fell asleep in the car as a child.
I remembered him teaching me to ride a bicycle.
I remembered how he had cried at my mother's funeral and promised that he would never let me face the world alone.
Then I remembered the email he had sent to the university.
"What do you want to say?"" I asked.
He lowered his voice.
"I made a mistake.""
I waited.
"I shouldn't have signed that document without speaking to you.""
"Why did you sign it?""
He looked toward Vanessa, who was standing near the exit with Brianna.
"Things have been difficult.""
"That isn't an answer.""
He exhaled.
"The house is mortgaged. Vanessa's business has been struggling. We have debts I haven't told you about.""
I felt a cold knot form in my stomach.
"What debts?""
He rubbed his hands together.
"Business loans. Credit lines. Some personal obligations.""
"And you thought selling my designs would solve them?""
"Vanessa said the company could become profitable. She believed your gown could attract investors.""
"Did you believe it?""
He hesitated.
"I believed it might help.""
I stared at him.
"Did you ever consider asking me?""
He looked away.
"I thought you would say no.""
"Because you knew I hadn't agreed.""
He didn't deny it.
I took a slow breath.
"How much money are we talking about?""
He looked around before answering.
"Almost four hundred thousand dollars.""
The number seemed unreal.
"Four hundred thousand?""
He nodded.
I gripped the edge of the table.
"How?""
"Loans. Business expenses. The mortgage. Some investments that didn't work out.""
"Did Vanessa know?""
"She was involved in the business.""
"Did Brianna know?""
He hesitated again.
"She knew some of it.""
I looked toward the exit.
Brianna was speaking rapidly to her mother, her face pale and furious.
"And you thought my dress would fix all of that?""
"It was a beautiful design, Nia. Vanessa believed it could become the centerpiece of a collection.""
"You mean she believed she could sell it.""
He closed his eyes.
"I didn't think it would happen like this.""
I felt a strange, hollow calm.
My family had not stolen my work because they thought I was worthless.
They had stolen it because they thought it was valuable.
They had looked at the thing I had created from my own pain and seen a way to make money.
"What happens now?"" I asked.
My father looked desperate.
"I need you to understand that I never wanted to hurt you.""
"But you did.""
"I know.""
"No, Dad. I don't think you do.""
He reached for my hand.
I stepped back.
He froze.
"I need time," I said.
"Nia—"
"I need you to leave me alone until I'm ready to talk.""
His shoulders sagged.
Then he nodded.
I watched him walk away.
Maya came to stand beside me.
"Are you okay?""
"No.""
She took my hand.
"That's allowed.""
I looked toward the stage, where the staff were preparing to resume the program.
My graduation gown was still missing.
My family had tried to claim my work.
My father had helped them.
And yet I was still standing there, holding my own evidence, with my name attached to every sketch and every photograph.
I could not change what they had done.
But I could decide what happened next.
"Come on," I said.
Maya looked at me.
"Where?""
"To get my degree.""
We walked toward the graduate seating area.
As I approached the stage entrance, a staff member handed me a black academic gown and a blue-trimmed hood.
"Your name is on the list," she said.
"You'll be walking with the design scholarship recipients.""
I stared at her.
"The scholarship recipients?""
She smiled.
"Professor Ellis submitted the committee's recommendation this morning. The formal announcement is being delayed because of the authorship dispute, but your academic recognition remains intact.""
My eyes filled with tears.
"Thank you.""
I changed into the gown in a small dressing room and pinned my hair back.
The fabric was plain.
There were no crystals, no butterflies, no embroidered flowers.
But when I looked into the mirror, I felt something I had not felt since my mother died.
Pride.
Not because I had won.
Not because my family had been exposed.
Because I had come back.
I had been slapped, threatened, lied about, and told to stay home.
And I had still come back.
A knock sounded at the dressing-room door.
"Nia?"" Professor Ellis called.
I opened it.
She stood in the hallway holding a small box.
"I believe this belongs to you.""
Inside the box lay the sapphire brooch I had designed to match my gown.
Brianna had apparently removed it before the university staff secured the dress for review.
Professor Ellis placed the box in my hands.
"Your stepsister left it backstage.""
I ran my thumb over the delicate blue crystals.
"Thank you.""
She studied my face.
"There is something else you should know.""
"What?""
"The university's legal office has located the original commercial proposal. It appears your father and stepmother planned to present the collection to a potential investor today.""
"Who?""
Professor Ellis hesitated.
"A private fashion group called Northstar Atelier.""
The name meant nothing to me.
Then she added, "They were expected to attend the showcase.""
I stared at her.
"Are they here?""
"They were.""
My heart began to pound.
"What do you mean, were?""
"One of their representatives has just asked to speak with you.""
I looked toward the auditorium.
"Why?""
Professor Ellis gave me a serious look.
"Because Northstar Atelier has already paid your family's company a deposit for the exclusive rights to reproduce your design.""
My fingers tightened around the box.
"How much?""
"Fifty thousand dollars.""
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
Fifty thousand dollars.
They had taken my dress, claimed my work, and accepted money for something they had no right to sell.
Professor Ellis continued.
"The representative wants to know whether the university can verify your authorship before the company decides what to do about the agreement.""
I stared at the brooch.
Then I looked up.
"Tell them I'll speak to them.""
Professor Ellis nodded.
"One more thing, Nia. The representative says the company may be interested in offering you a position.""
I blinked.
"Me?""
"Yes. But I would advise you to hear everything before making any decisions.""
I slipped the brooch into my pocket.
Then I walked back toward the auditorium.
For the first time, I was no longer walking toward a confrontation with my family.
I was walking toward a future they had never imagined I could have.
And when I reached the stage entrance, a man in a charcoal suit stood waiting beside a woman holding a leather portfolio.
The man extended his hand.
"Nia Carter? My name is Adrian Cole. I'm the director of acquisitions at Northstar Atelier.""
I shook his hand.
He glanced toward the auditorium, where my father and stepmother were arguing with a university official near the exit.
Then he looked back at me.
"I believe your family has misrepresented a design that belongs to you.""
"Yes," I said.
His expression grew serious.
"We need to discuss the agreement they signed with us.""
He opened the leather portfolio.
Inside was a contract bearing my father's signature, Vanessa's signature, and the name of the company that had promised to pay them for my work.
But as I read the first page, I noticed something even more disturbing.
The agreement did not cover just one dress.
It covered an entire collection of designs.
A collection scheduled to launch under Brianna's name.
May you like
And the first item listed was not my graduation gown.
It was a blue dress my mother had designed twenty years earlier.
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