She Tried to Steal My Dress—But She Had No Idea What My Father Had Hidden Inside It

I closed my fingers around the brass key.

Vanessa took one step into the attic, her eyes fixed on my hand.

“Where did you find that?””

I backed toward the window.

“Where did you think I found it?””

“Don't play games with me.””

“Is that what you call it when someone asks you a question?””

She reached for the key.

I moved away.

“Stay back.””

Vanessa stopped.

For the first time since I'd known her, she seemed uncertain about what to do next.

Then she straightened her shoulders.

“You don't understand the consequences of what you're doing.””

“I understand that my father hid a key from you.””

“He hid nothing from me.””

“Then why do you want it?””

Her jaw tightened.

“Because it belongs to the family.””

I laughed bitterly.

“You mean it belongs to you.””

Vanessa's eyes flashed.

“Everything I've done has been to protect this family.””

“From what? The truth?””

She lunged.

I twisted sideways, and her hand caught the sleeve of my shirt instead of the key. The fabric tore near the shoulder.

I shoved past her and ran down the attic stairs.

“Nia!”” she screamed.

I didn't stop.

I reached my bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it. My heart pounded so hard that I could barely hold my phone.

Marcus answered on the second ring.

“What's wrong?””

“Vanessa knows about the key. She tried to take it.””

“Are you safe?””

“For now.””

“Listen carefully. Don't attempt to access the account from your home computer. If someone has already tried to enter the account illegally, we need to assume your devices could be monitored.””

I glanced at my laptop.

“What should I do?””

“Meet me at the law office tomorrow morning. Bring the key, the memory card, and any documents you found. I'll arrange for the account administrator to verify your identity.””

“Tomorrow? The competition is tomorrow.””

“I know.””

I looked toward the blue gown.

Six months of work.

Twenty-five thousand dollars.

A chance to pay for treatment before my vision deteriorated further.

And now the dress had become the center of a battle I barely understood.

“Can we do it tonight?”” I asked.

Marcus hesitated.

“Possibly, but I need to confirm the office can receive us. More importantly, I need you somewhere safe.””

I swallowed.

“I can't leave tonight. Vanessa will know I've found something.””

“Then don't tell her where you're going. I'll call you back in twenty minutes.””

He ended the call.

I sat on the floor beside the wardrobe, clutching the key.

For a few minutes, I allowed myself to imagine what might happen if Account 417 contained everything Marcus believed it did. Maybe I could prove Vanessa had stolen the money my father left for me. Maybe I could discover what really happened on the night he died.

Maybe I could finally stop living like a prisoner in my own home.

Then I remembered the condition affecting my eye.

The pain was returning, a sharp pressure behind my right temple. I pressed my palm against it and waited for the worst of it to pass.

I couldn't afford to lose the competition.

But I couldn't afford to ignore the evidence, either.

A knock sounded at my door.

“Nia?””

Brianna.

I didn't answer.

“Please open up.””

I stood cautiously and unlocked the door.

Brianna slipped inside, closed it behind her, and leaned against the wood.

Her eyes were red.

“Mommy says you're trying to ruin everything.””

I folded my arms.

“Is that why she slapped you?””

Brianna looked down.

“She didn't mean to.””

“Did she?””

Her mouth trembled.

“She gets angry sometimes.””

“So do I. I don't hit people.””

Brianna wiped her cheek.

“I heard what Marcus said downstairs.””

I watched her carefully.

“What did you hear?””

“That Dad's money disappeared. That Mommy might have lied about the accident.””

She looked toward the gown.

“And that dress has something to do with it.””

I didn't respond.

Brianna walked closer to the garment bag.

“I didn't know.””

I stared at her.

“Didn't know what?””

“That she was going to do this.””

“You demanded my dress.””

“Because she told me it was hers to give.””

“Why would you believe that?””

Brianna's eyes filled with tears.

“Because she's my mother.””

The words silenced me.

I hated what Brianna had done. I hated the way she'd mocked my illness, damaged my gown, and treated my future as though it were a toy she could take whenever she wanted.

But I understood what it meant to want to believe a parent.

I had spent three years believing Vanessa was merely cruel because she didn't love me.

Now I was beginning to wonder whether she'd been cruel because she feared what I might discover.

Brianna took a shaky breath.

“There's something else.””

I waited.

“Last month, I found Mommy in Dad's old study. She was burning papers in the fireplace.””

My stomach tightened.

“What papers?””

“I don't know. I came in because I wanted to ask her for money. She told me to leave.””

“Did you see anything?””

Brianna nodded slowly.

“One paper had a photograph of Dad's car. I remember because I asked why she had it.””

“What did she say?””

“She said it was insurance paperwork.””

I gripped the edge of the sewing table.

“Did you tell anyone?””

“No.””

“Why not?””

Brianna looked at me as if the answer were obvious.

“Because I didn't think it mattered.””

I wanted to scream at her.

Instead, I forced myself to ask another question.

“Do you remember when it happened?””

“September. A few weeks after my birthday.””

My father's accident had happened in late September.

I closed my eyes.

“Did you see the photograph clearly?””

“Not really. But I remember a red mark near the front wheel.””

I opened my eyes.

The photograph on the memory card showed a dark sedan outside a warehouse. I'd enlarged it, but I hadn't noticed a red mark.

“What kind of mark?””

“Like paint. Or a scratch.””

Brianna looked at the floor.

“I'm sorry, Nia.””

The apology came so quietly that I almost missed it.

I wanted to believe her.

But trust was something she'd spent years teaching me not to give her.

“Why are you telling me now?””

“Because Mommy is planning to take the dress tonight.””

I stared at her.

“What?””

“She called someone. I heard her say the gown needs to be gone before morning.””

My pulse quickened.

“Who did she call?””

“I don't know. She said the person should bring a van.””

A van.

Not a car.

Not someone coming to collect a garment.

A van large enough to remove the sewing machine, the wardrobe, and anything else Vanessa believed might contain evidence.

I grabbed my phone and called Marcus.

He answered immediately.

“Tell me you found the key.””

“I have it. And Vanessa is planning to remove the dress tonight.””

Marcus swore under his breath.

“Do you have somewhere you can go?””

“No.””

“Can you get to a neighbor's house?””

I glanced at Brianna.

“She knows about the plan. She might help me.””

Marcus was silent for a moment.

“Then you need to make a decision now. If Vanessa is willing to move the dress before the account is accessed, she may be desperate enough to destroy whatever she thinks is hidden inside it.””

I looked at the gown.

“I can't let her take it.””

“Then protect yourself first. The evidence can be replaced if we have copies. You cannot.””

He gave me the address of his office and told me to call if anything changed.

When I ended the call, Brianna was staring at the dress.

“There's something I haven't told you,” she said.

I felt a knot form in my stomach.

“What now?””

“Mommy promised me the money from the competition.””

I blinked.

“What?””

“She said if I wore the gown and got photographed at the showcase, she'd arrange for me to receive the prize money.””

I stared at her.

“That's impossible. I designed the dress. I'm the contestant.””

“She said nobody would question it. She knows people on the committee.””

The room seemed to shrink around me.

Vanessa wasn't simply stealing my work.

She intended to steal the competition, too.

“She told me the money would help pay for a car,” Brianna continued.

“She said it was already arranged.””

I stared at my stepsister.

“Did you believe her?””

Brianna looked away.

“Yes.””

The answer hurt more than I expected.

“You knew I needed that money for my treatment.””

Her shoulders collapsed.

“I know.””

“And you still agreed?””

She started crying.

“I thought you could make another dress!””

I turned away.

“Get out.””

“Nia—”

“Get out!””

Brianna opened the door and left without another word.

I locked it behind her.

Then I looked at the clock.

Eleven twenty-three.

I had less than seven hours before the showcase registration desk opened.

My phone vibrated again.

Marcus had sent a message.

The bank has confirmed an attempted access to Account 417. The request was submitted using your father's death certificate and a forged authorization.

I read it twice.

A second message followed.

The administrator says the account contains a sealed video recorded by your father on the night he died.

I froze.

A video recorded on the night of his death.

The memory card's final recording had been made three days earlier.

Whatever happened after that remained unknown.

My fingers moved across the screen.

Can we access it tonight?

Marcus replied:

Yes. But there's a complication. The account requires the original key and the beneficiary's signature. Once we open it, the system automatically notifies the attorney who sealed the evidence.

I frowned.

Why is that a problem?

His answer arrived a moment later.

Because the attorney who sealed the account was Vanessa's personal lawyer.

I stared at the message.

If Vanessa's lawyer had sealed the evidence, how could we trust him to release it?

Before I could ask, another message appeared.

I need you to understand something. Your father didn't trust the legal system to protect you. He created a second safeguard.

What safeguard?

Marcus called instead of replying.

“Listen carefully, Nia. The account contains two files. The first is a financial record.

The second is a video. The financial record can be accessed with the key, but the video requires a separate authorization.””

“Whose authorization?””

“Your father's.””

“He's dead.””

“That's what everyone believes.””

I stopped breathing.

“What are you saying?””

“I'm saying the video was sealed using a biometric verification system. Your father recorded a statement that must be matched to the original file before the system releases the footage.””

I gripped my phone.

“Can it still recognize him?””

“Yes.””

“Then we can prove the video is real.””

“Possibly. But the attorney has to be present when the evidence is released.””

I closed my eyes.

Everything seemed designed to lead back to Vanessa.

Her lawyer.

Her money.

Her lies.

And the man who had promised to protect me.

“Marcus,” I whispered, “what if she's already contacted him?””