Chapter 1: The Dress She Had No Right to Take
“Mommy, I want that dress.””
Brianna's voice was sweet, almost childish, as she pointed toward the sapphire-blue gown lying across my worktable.
My six months of sleepless nights. My last chance at saving my eyesight. The one thing I had created without asking anyone's permission.
My stepmother, Vanessa, barely glanced at me.
“Then take it, sweetheart. Your stepsister should be grateful that something she made can finally be useful to someone.””
I tightened my grip on the silk.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
My name is Nia Carter. I was eighteen years old, and I had spent the better part of the previous six months creating a dress for the Georgia Young Designers Showcase. The winner would receive a $50,000 scholarship and a cash prize large enough to cover the medical treatment I desperately needed.
My right eye was deteriorating.
The specialist had explained that the condition could become irreversible without timely intervention. Some mornings, I woke up unable to distinguish the numbers on my alarm clock. Other days, bright sunlight sent sharp flashes of pain through my skull.
I had asked Vanessa for help.
She had told me that medical treatment was not an excuse to waste family money.
So I made the dress.
Every crystal had been purchased with money from repairing clothes for neighbors. Every embroidered flower had been stitched by hand. I had worked until my fingers cramped and my vision blurred, sometimes using a magnifying lamp to finish the smallest details.
And now Brianna wanted it.
“Did you hear me?”” she asked, waving her manicured fingers in front of my face.
“I said I want it.””
“I heard you.””
“Then give it to me.””
I looked at her.
“You can't be serious.””
Brianna turned dramatically toward her mother.
“Mommy, she's being rude again.””
Vanessa stepped into my bedroom, her designer heels clicking against the wooden floor.
“Lower your voice, Nia. We have guests coming this evening, and I will not have you creating another scene.””
“I haven't created a scene.””
“You just did.””
I pointed toward the gown.
“That dress is for the competition tomorrow. I've been working on it for six months.””
Brianna laughed.
“Then make another one.””
“It doesn't work like that.””
“Why not? You're always sitting at that ridiculous sewing machine. Isn't that what you do?””
I looked at the machine beside my bed.
It was secondhand, scratched, and older than I was. But it had helped me create something that judges from across the country would soon see.
“I need the prize money,” I explained.
“I need it for my treatment.””
Brianna examined her nails.
“That's unfortunate.””
“Brianna,” Vanessa warned, although there was no real disapproval in her voice.
“What? I'm just saying. She shouldn't expect everyone to rearrange their lives because her eye hurts.””
My throat tightened.
Vanessa walked toward the gown.
“Give it to her, Nia.””
“No.””
Her expression changed.
“What did you say?””
“I said no. It's mine.””
Brianna stepped forward and reached for the bodice.
I immediately pulled the gown away.
“Don't touch it!””
She gasped.
“Mommy!””
Vanessa grabbed my wrist.
“Do not shout at my daughter.””
“Then tell her to stop trying to steal my work!””
Vanessa released me with a disgusted expression.
“Let me remind you of something. You live in my house. You eat food that I pay for. You have a roof over your head because I allow it.””
“My father bought this house.””
Her eyes narrowed.
“Your father is dead.””
The words landed between us.
For two years, Vanessa had used those words whenever I questioned her decisions.
Your father is dead.
Your father isn't coming back.
Your father left you with me.
I swallowed.
“Yes. He is.””
“And since his death, I have maintained this family. I have managed his affairs and made sure you had everything you needed.””
I glanced around my bedroom.
The wallpaper was peeling. A bucket sat beneath the leaking window. My mattress sagged in the middle, and the wardrobe contained clothes I had owned since I was fifteen.
Meanwhile, Brianna had received a new car for her seventeenth birthday.
“You bought Brianna a car last month,” I said.
“That's a family decision.””
“You bought her a handbag that cost more than my last medical consultation.””
“Brianna has responsibilities in society. Her appearance matters.””
“And my eyesight doesn't?””
Vanessa sighed as if I were exhausting her.
“Your eyesight is a medical issue, Nia. Not a family emergency.””
Brianna laughed.
“Honestly, you make everything about yourself.””
I looked at the two of them.
Then I looked at my dress.
The skirt was made of layers of white silk washed with cobalt and turquoise. Thousands of tiny sapphire crystals shimmered beneath the afternoon sunlight. Delicate embroidered flowers curled around the fitted bodice.
I had named it The Blue Promise.
My father had once told me that blue was the color of hope.
He used to sit beside me while I drew designs, pretending to understand the complicated sketches I showed him.
“Someday, sweetheart,” he had said, “people will recognize your work before they recognize your name.””
I had believed him.
I still did.
Vanessa extended her hand.
“Give Brianna the dress.””
“No.””
For several seconds, she simply stared at me.
Then she smiled.
It was the kind of smile that made my stomach tighten.
“You have until six o'clock.””
“And if I don't?””
Her gaze moved toward my sewing machine.
“I would hate to see you lose the few privileges you still have.””
Brianna picked up her shopping bag.
“I'm wearing it tomorrow. My friends will be at the showcase. Everyone will want pictures.””
“You aren't entering the competition,” I said.
She shrugged.
“I don't need to. I just need the dress.””
Vanessa turned toward the door.
“Don't embarrass this family tomorrow.””
They left.
I locked the door behind them and sat beside the gown.
My hands were shaking.
For several minutes, I couldn't even look at the fabric.
Then I noticed something.
One of the embroidered blue flowers near the waist had become loose.
I reached for my magnifying lamp.
As I leaned closer, my fingers brushed something hard beneath the inner lining.
I frowned.
That wasn't supposed to be there.
I carefully turned the gown inside out and examined the stitching.
There was a small rectangular bulge beneath the lining, close to the waist seam.
I had never placed anything inside the dress.
My father had once repaired the old sewing machine himself, and he had taught me to inspect every seam before finishing a garment. I remembered his words clearly.
“Never leave a hidden pocket in a dress unless you know exactly what's inside it.””
I had laughed at him then.
Now I reached for my seam ripper.
Before I could open the stitching, someone knocked.
“Nia?”” Vanessa called.
I quickly covered the opening.
“I'm busy.””
“Open the door.””
“No.””
A pause.
Then her voice became colder.
“Your six o'clock deadline is not a suggestion.””
I looked at the clock.
5:58 p.m.
“I heard you.””
“Then open this door.””
I stayed silent.
Footsteps moved away.
I waited until I couldn't hear them anymore before returning to the gown.
Carefully, I removed three stitches.
Something metallic slipped into my palm.
It was a tiny brass key attached to a narrow silver tag.
My father's handwriting was engraved on it.
*NIA — ONLY OPEN WHEN YOU'RE READY TO KNOW THE TRUTH.*
My breath caught.
I turned the key over.
On the back was a date.
The date my father had died.
And beneath it, in much smaller letters, were four words.
*Ask what happened that night.*
I stared at the message until my right eye began to blur.
Then my phone vibrated.
It was a text from an unknown number.
Don't let Vanessa take that dress. Your father left something inside it that could put her in prison.
I read it twice.
Before I could reply, another message appeared.
And Nia, whatever you do, don't tell her you found the key.
I looked toward the locked bedroom door.
May you like
For the first time in two years, I wondered whether my father's death had really been an accident.
And whether Vanessa knew I was about to find out.
