Chapter 4: The Secret Hidden in the Dress
Vanessa didn't sleep that night.
At 2:17 a.m., Amara heard footsteps outside her bedroom door. Then came the faint sound of a phone vibrating.
She sat up in bed.
Through the narrow gap beneath the door, she saw a shadow moving back and forth.
Someone was listening.
Amara quietly reached for her phone and activated its voice recorder.
A moment later, Vanessa's voice came through the hallway.
“I'm telling you, she has the documents.””
A pause.
“No, I don't know how much she found. But she has the USB drive.””
Another pause.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Listen to me. If Eleanor Price gets involved, everything we've built could collapse.””
Amara's fingers tightened around her phone.
Eleanor Price.
So Vanessa knew exactly who had contacted her.
“Then we need to get the original files before tomorrow,” Vanessa continued.
“I don't care what you have to do. Just make sure Amara doesn't walk into that competition with those documents.””
Footsteps moved away.
Amara waited until the hallway became silent before replaying the recording.
Her stepmother hadn't merely stolen a dress.
She was terrified of what that dress could reveal.
The following morning, Amara arrived at Eleanor Price's fashion headquarters carrying a large portfolio.
Eleanor was waiting in her office.
“Did you bring everything?””
Amara placed the USB drive on the desk.
“I also brought the original dress photographs, receipts, sketches, and videos.””
Eleanor examined the files.
“Good. We've already frozen Brielle's entry. However, there's something I discovered overnight.””
She turned her laptop toward Amara.
A photograph showed the interior of Amara's midnight-blue gown.
More specifically, it showed the lining near the waist.
“Do you recognize this stitching?””
Amara leaned closer.
Her heart skipped.
It was the tiny silver crescent she had embroidered inside the gown.
“Yes. I made that.””
“Look at the pattern surrounding it.””
Amara studied the photograph.
The silver threads formed a series of tiny numbers.
She had always assumed they were decorative.
But Eleanor zoomed in.
“Your mother used a similar technique in her original collections. She called it a signature stitch.””
Amara frowned.
“What does it mean?””
“It identifies the creator and the original production date. Your mother developed it after her designs were stolen years ago.””
Eleanor opened an old photograph.
It showed one of her mother's gowns, with the same silver pattern hidden beneath the lining.
“Your mother taught you this technique, didn't she?””
Amara nodded slowly.
“When I was little, she used to let me sit beside her while she worked. She said every designer should leave something behind that nobody else could imitate.””
Eleanor smiled sadly.
“She was right.””
Amara stared at the photograph.
Then she remembered something.
“The USB pocket.””
“What?””
“I made a hidden pocket inside the gown. It's beneath the left side of the waist panel.””
Eleanor looked surprised.
“Why?””
“I wanted to protect my original design notes during the competition. I thought someone might try to copy my work.””
“Is anything inside it?””
Amara shook her head.
“The USB drive was there, but I removed it yesterday.””
Eleanor leaned forward.
“Did anyone else know about that pocket?””
“No.””
Amara paused.
“Wait. Someone opened the lining yesterday. I found a cut thread.””
Eleanor's expression hardened.
“Then someone was searching for the pocket.””
Before either woman could continue, Amara's phone rang.
It was her father.
“Amara, where are you?””
“At Eleanor's office.””
“Come home. We need to talk.””
“About what?””
“Vanessa wants to apologize.””
Amara almost laughed.
“An apology?””
“Yes. She says everything has gotten out of hand.””
“Dad, she stole my mother's designs.””
There was silence.
Then Richard spoke quietly.
“I know.””
Amara's expression changed.
“You know?””
“I found something in the study last night. Your mother left a letter addressed to me.””
“What's in it?””
“I want you to come home. Please.””
Amara looked at Eleanor.
Eleanor gave a small nod.
“I'm coming,” Amara said.
When she arrived home, Richard was waiting in his study.
A thick envelope sat on the desk.
Vanessa wasn't there.
Richard looked exhausted.
“Sit down.””
Amara remained standing.
“Tell me what happened.””
Richard opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter, several bank statements, and an old photograph of her mother standing outside a fashion studio.
“I found these behind the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet,” he explained.
Amara took the letter.
Her mother's handwriting was unmistakable.
Richard, if you are reading this, then I was unable to tell you everything before it was too late.
Amara continued reading.
Vanessa has been selling my designs without permission. I discovered the transfers, the false signatures, and the payments. She told me that if I exposed her, she would destroy the business you had spent your life building.
Amara looked up.
Richard's eyes were wet.
“She never told me any of this.””
“Keep reading,” he whispered.
The next paragraph made Amara's stomach tighten.
I know you will want to defend Vanessa. But please, remember that Brielle is not responsible for her mother's choices. Protect our daughter. And protect the designs I am leaving her.
Amara stopped.
“Dad, what does this mean?””
Richard lowered his head.
“I should have listened to your mother.””
“Why didn't you?””
He rubbed his face.
“Because I was afraid. Vanessa showed me financial documents suggesting your mother had mismanaged the company. She told me she was trying to protect us.””
Amara stared at him.
“And you believed her?””
“I was weak.””
“You let her slap me. You let her steal my work. You called me selfish.””
Richard's shoulders sank.
“I know.””
“No, Dad. You don't.””
Her voice trembled.
“You watched me spend seven months making that dress. You knew it was my dream. And when I begged you to protect it, you handed it to the person who stole it.””
Richard couldn't meet her eyes.
“I don't expect you to forgive me.””
“Good.””
Amara placed the letter on the desk.
“Because I haven't.””
She turned to leave.
Then Richard spoke.
“There is something else.””
Amara stopped.
“Your mother's letter mentions a storage unit. She says the original collection records are still there.””
“Where?””
Richard checked the envelope.
“Unit 318. At a storage facility in Queens.””
Amara slowly turned around.
“Does Vanessa know?””
Richard nodded.
“She asked me about it last week.””
Amara's blood ran cold.
Before she could respond, the study door flew open.
Vanessa stood there.
Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with anger.
“What exactly are you two discussing?””
Richard stood up.
“Vanessa, we need to talk about the letter.””
Vanessa glanced at the documents.
Then at Amara.
Her expression changed.
“Give me that envelope.””
“No,” Richard said.
For the first time in years, he stood between Vanessa and his daughter.
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“You have no idea what you're doing.””
Richard held up the letter.
“I know exactly what I'm doing.””
Vanessa stared at him.
Then she leaned toward Amara and whispered:
“You think you've won? You have no idea what happened to your mother.””
And with those words, she turned and walked out.
Amara stood frozen.
Because she suddenly understood something.
Vanessa wasn't afraid of losing the competition.
May you like
She was afraid that Amara would discover what had really happened six years ago.
And the storage unit might contain the answer.
