Chapter 4: The Girl Who Wore My Dreams
By Friday morning, Brianna had become the most talked-about girl at school.
She posted photographs of herself wearing my stolen gown.
The caption read:
Custom couture. Designed especially for me. Sometimes dreams really do come true.
The comments were full of compliments.
Absolutely stunning!
You look like a princess.
Who made this?
Brianna replied to one comment:
My mom helped me find the designer.
I stared at the screen.
My work.
My sketches.
My three months of sewing.
And she was pretending that the gown had been created for her.
Tasha sat beside me in the school cafeteria.
“She's unbelievable.””
I locked my phone.
“Don't.””
“Don't what?””
“Don't make me think about her.””
Tasha sighed.
“I'm sorry.””
I took a sip of water.
“Did you know there's a Best Dress competition tonight?””
“Of course. Brianna has been talking about it for weeks.””
“She's wearing my dress.””
Tasha's expression darkened.
“Your actual dress?””
“The one they took.””
“That's insane.””
I shrugged.
“Apparently, they cut away the damaged parts and altered it.””
Tasha looked at my face.
“Are you going to let her get away with it?””
I looked down at my hands.
“No.””
She leaned closer.
“What are you going to do?””
“Nothing illegal.””
Tasha laughed.
“That's reassuring.””
I took out my phone and opened a folder.
It contained photographs of my original sketches, fabric receipts, progress pictures, and videos of me working on the gown.
I had also saved Brianna's messages.
“I'm going to let the truth speak for itself.””
Tasha studied the photographs.
“Nia, this is incredible.””
“It was better before she ruined it.””
“No. I mean the design.””
She zoomed in on a picture of the bodice.
“You made all this?””
I nodded.
“Every stitch.””
She looked at me.
“Then why are you sitting here looking miserable?””
I shrugged.
“Because she gets to wear it.””
Tasha shook her head.
“Not for long.””
At lunchtime, I received a call from Mr. Harrison.
“Good morning, Nia.””
“Hi.””
“We've made some progress.””
I stood and walked toward an empty hallway.
“What did you find?””
“The property records are clear. The sewing studio belongs to you under your mother's estate plan.””
“And the money?””
“We've identified several transactions that appear inconsistent with the trust agreement.””
My heart began beating faster.
“How much?””
“We are still reconciling the accounts. But the amount may be substantially higher than the original withdrawals you found.””
I leaned against the wall.
“Can they take the money back?””
“Potentially. That depends on the evidence and the legal circumstances.””
I closed my eyes.
“What about the money transferred to Brianna?””
“We've identified the receiving account. However, I don't want to discuss the details over the phone.””
“Can I come to your office?””
“Tomorrow morning.””
I looked at the clock.
“I have graduation rehearsals.””
“Then we'll make it quick.””
Before hanging up, he added:
“One more thing. Your mother left a letter specifically for your eighteenth birthday.””
I froze.
“My birthday is next month.””
“Yes. The letter is being held with the original estate documents.””
“What does it say?””
“I don't know. Your mother instructed that it should be given directly to you.””
I felt tears gathering in my eyes.
“Thank you.””
“Your mother was very careful, Nia. She thought about your future.””
After the call, I went back to class.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the letter.
What had Mom wanted to tell me?
And why had she insisted that I receive it when I turned eighteen?
That afternoon, Mrs. Alvarez called.
“Sweetheart, I have good news.””
I rushed to her shop after school.
She was standing beside a dress form covered in ivory fabric.
“Look.””
I stopped.
The new gown was beautiful.
The bodice was sculpted with delicate embroidery. The shoulders curved elegantly, and the skirt fell in soft layers of satin and tulle.
A narrow line of pearls ran down the back.
It was not the same dress I had originally designed.
It was better.
I walked toward it.
“Mrs. Alvarez…”
She smiled.
“Don't cry on the fabric. I've spent too much time on that embroidery.””
I laughed through my tears.
“You made this?””
“We made this.””
I touched the skirt.
The fabric felt like cool water beneath my fingertips.
“I don't know what to say.””
“Say you'll wear it.””
I nodded.
“I will.””
She stepped back.
“There is one more thing.””
She opened a drawer and took out a small envelope.
Inside was a receipt.
It showed the cost of the materials.
“I'm not paying you back for all this,” I said.
Mrs. Alvarez raised an eyebrow.
“I didn't ask you to.””
“But—”
“Listen. When I was nineteen, a woman gave me my first sewing machine. I didn't have enough money to buy one. She told me to help someone else when I could.””
She placed the receipt back in the envelope.
“Consider this your turn to receive help.””
I hugged her.
She patted my back.
“Now go home and get some sleep. You have graduation tomorrow.””
I smiled.
But when I arrived home, Vanessa was waiting in the living room.
She was wearing a cream-colored blouse and holding a clipboard.
Brianna sat beside her.
“Where have you been?”” Vanessa asked.
“At work.””
“Your father and I need to discuss tomorrow.””
I stopped.
“What about tomorrow?””
“Your graduation.””
I looked at Brianna.
She was wearing my gold earrings.
The same earrings I had bought with my first paycheck.
“Why is she wearing those?””
Brianna touched one earring.
“Mom said I could borrow them.””
“They're mine.””
Vanessa sighed.
“Must everything be an argument?””
I held out my hand.
“Give them back.””
Brianna rolled her eyes.
“Fine.””
She removed one earring and placed it on the coffee table.
Then she deliberately dropped the other onto the floor.
It rolled beneath the couch.
I stared at her.
“Pick it up.””
“Do it yourself.””
Vanessa stood.
“That's enough.””
I bent down, retrieved the earring, and put both into my pocket.
Then Vanessa pointed toward the dining table.
“We've made arrangements for graduation.””
“What arrangements?””
“Brianna will be sitting with us. Your father and I have reserved seats.””
I nodded.
“Okay.””
“And you'll be wearing something appropriate.””
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?””
She smiled.
“I saw the dress Mrs. Alvarez has been making. It's far too dramatic for a school ceremony.””
My stomach tightened.
“How do you know about that?””
“Brianna saw it when she visited the shop.””
I turned toward Brianna.
She smiled innocently.
“It's pretty. A little old-fashioned, but pretty.””
Vanessa continued.
“We've decided that you should wear the blue dress in your closet.””
It was an old dress I had worn to a family dinner two years earlier.
It was too short now.
“No.””
Vanessa blinked.
“Excuse me?””
“I'll wear my own dress.””
“You're being difficult.””
“I'm graduating. I want to wear something I made.””
Brianna laughed.
“Don't tell me you're planning to wear that homemade thing.””
I looked at her.
“Yes.””
She stood.
“Well, good luck. I'll be at the front of the stage in my designer gown.””
I didn't answer.
Instead, I turned toward the stairs.
Vanessa called after me.
“If you embarrass this family tomorrow, don't expect us to celebrate you.””
I stopped.
Then I looked back.
“That's fine.””
Her expression changed.
“What?””
“I said that's fine.””
I walked upstairs.
That night, I slept at Tasha's house.
Her mother, Mrs. Reynolds, welcomed me with a plate of pasta and a warm smile.
When she noticed my cheek was still slightly bruised, she asked what had happened.
I told her.
She listened quietly.
Then she picked up her phone.
“Do you have somewhere safe to stay tonight?””
I nodded.
“Here?””
“Of course.””
She gave me a hug.
“No child should be afraid to go home.””
I sat at the kitchen table and ate dinner.
For the first time in weeks, nobody criticized how much food I put on my plate.
Nobody complained about my sewing supplies.
Nobody told me to be grateful for something that had been taken from me.
It was a peaceful evening.
But at nine thirty, my phone began vibrating.
Brianna had posted a new video.
She was standing in front of a mirror, wearing my stolen gown.
Vanessa was behind her, adjusting the bodice.
The caption read:
Final fitting before tomorrow's big night. Thank you to my amazing mother for making all my dreams come true.
I watched the video twice.
Then I noticed something.
Behind Brianna, on the dresser, was a small white envelope.
My mother's old envelope.
The one marked For Nia's Dreams.
I zoomed in.
It was unmistakable.
I had seen that handwriting thousands of times.
I immediately called my father.
He answered after several rings.
“Hello?””
“Dad, where is Mom's sewing box?””
There was silence.
“Why?””
“Because the envelope from the box is in Brianna's room.””
“What envelope?””
“The one marked For Nia's Dreams.””
His breathing changed.
“Nia, listen to me.””
“Where did you put it?””
“I don't know what you're talking about.””
“Dad, I saw it in Brianna's video.””
He was silent.
Then I heard Vanessa's voice in the background.
“Who is it?””
Dad lowered his voice.
“Go to sleep, Nia. We'll discuss this tomorrow.””
“No. I want to know why Brianna has Mom's things.””
“Nia—”
“Did you give them to her?””
The call suddenly ended.
I stared at my phone.
A few seconds later, another message arrived.
It was from an unknown number.
Stop digging into things you don't understand.
I read it twice.
Then another message appeared.
Your mother made a mistake trusting the wrong person.
My hands went cold.
I took screenshots.
I forwarded them to Mr. Harrison.
Then I called him.
He answered immediately.
“Nia?””
“I think someone is trying to scare me.””
I explained the messages.
When I finished, he was quiet for a moment.
Then he said something that made my heart pound.
“Don't reply to that number.””
“Why?””
“Because I believe I know who sent it.””
“Who?””
He took a breath.
“Nia, we found something in your mother's original estate file.””
“What?””
“A document that was never supposed to be in your father's possession.””
“What document?””
May you like
His voice became very serious.
“A signed statement from your mother identifying the person she believed was stealing from her business.””
