Chapter 5: The Girl Behind the Runway Curtain
The Atlanta convention center was already crowded when Daniel dropped me at the entrance.
Fashion students, photographers, parents, and sponsors filled the lobby. Large banners displayed the competition's name above the registration desks.
*GEORGIA YOUNG DESIGNERS COMPETITION — GRAND FINAL.*
I checked my phone.
9:16 a.m.
Less than an hour before the first runway presentation.
Daniel handed me a folder.
"Copies of the trust documents. Keep them with you.""
"What about the originals?""
"Safe. And I've contacted an attorney who specializes in intellectual property.""
I nodded.
He looked at me through the windshield.
"Whatever happens inside, don't let them provoke you into doing something reckless.""
I almost smiled.
"Vanessa has spent three years provoking me.""
"Then today, let the evidence speak.""
I stepped out.
Inside, a volunteer checked my registration number.
"Name?""
"Emily Carter.""
She searched her tablet.
Her eyebrows lifted.
"You're listed as withdrawn.""
My stomach tightened.
"That's incorrect. I never withdrew.""
"Sorry, the system says your application was canceled yesterday.""
I handed her the email confirmation.
"This is my original finalist confirmation. The withdrawal request was submitted without my authorization.""
The volunteer called her supervisor.
A woman in a navy blazer approached.
"I'm Patricia, the competition coordinator. Can I see your identification?""
I handed it over.
She examined the documents carefully.
"There's a problem," she said.
"What problem?""
"Your original submission is still in our system, but someone requested that your entry be transferred to another contestant.""
"Who?""
Patricia hesitated.
"Brittany Miller.""
I felt my stomach twist.
"She's wearing my dress.""
Patricia looked uncomfortable.
"She's registered as the designer of that gown.""
"Then you need to know that she stole it.""
Before Patricia could answer, a familiar voice came from behind me.
"Emily?""
I turned.
Brittany stood near the backstage entrance, wearing a pale pink robe over her competition outfit. Her hair was curled perfectly, and a makeup artist was touching up her lipstick.
She looked at my old sweater and burst out laughing.
"You actually came?""
"Give me back my dress.""
Her smile disappeared.
"Not here.""
"Then where?""
She glanced toward Patricia.
"She's been harassing me all morning. I don't know what she wants.""
I stepped closer.
"You know exactly what I want.""
Brittany's eyes narrowed.
"Mom told me you might show up.""
"Where is she?""
"With the judges.""
Of course she was.
I looked at the gown hanging behind Brittany on a clothing rack.
Even from several feet away, I recognized every detail.
The tiny pearl pattern.
The embroidered flowers.
The silk rose at the waist.
My mother's fabric.
Brittany followed my gaze.
"Beautiful, isn't it?""
"You're wearing my mother's memory.""
She laughed softly.
"Your mother is not here, Emily. Nobody knows what she would have wanted.""
I clenched my fists.
"She would have wanted her daughter to stop stealing.""
Brittany stepped closer.
"Listen carefully. I know you think that little recording device gives you power, but Mom has already spoken to the director.""
My blood went cold.
"So you know about it.""
"Of course I do.""
"Then you know what it contains.""
Brittany's confidence faltered.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear in her eyes.
"What exactly did you record?""
"Enough.""
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind a curtain.
"Listen to me. I'll give you money.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"Five thousand dollars. Cash. You walk away, and I keep the dress.""
I almost couldn't believe her.
"You think I'm selling four months of work for five thousand dollars?""
"Ten thousand.""
"You stole my mother's silk.""
"Twenty thousand, then.""
I pulled my wrist free.
"You could offer me a million dollars. The answer would still be no.""
Brittany's face hardened.
"You have no idea what you're doing.""
"Neither do you.""
She leaned close enough for me to smell her expensive perfume.
"Mom has a video of you entering her bedroom last week. She can make it look like you stole jewelry. Do you understand? If you embarrass us today, she'll destroy your reputation.""
I looked at her.
"Then I guess we'll both have evidence to show.""
A voice interrupted us.
"Emily?""
I turned.
A tall man with silver hair stood near the backstage entrance. His identification badge read:
*JONATHAN REED — HEAD JUDGE.*
He looked between Brittany and me.
"Is there a problem?""
Brittany immediately changed her expression.
"Nothing, Mr. Reed. My stepsister is just upset because she didn't make the final.""
I took a breath.
"Actually, I did make the final. My entry was withdrawn using a forged signature.""
Mr. Reed's expression became serious.
"Do you have documentation?""
I handed him the confirmation email and withdrawal notice.
He studied both.
Then he looked at Brittany.
"Miss Miller, where did you obtain this gown?""
"My personal design studio.""
"Can you provide your original sketches?""
"Of course.""
"Excellent. Please bring them to the judges' table before your presentation.""
Brittany nodded too quickly.
"Absolutely.""
Mr. Reed turned to me.
"Miss Carter, I cannot make a decision without reviewing the evidence. But I promise this complaint will be investigated.""
He walked away.
Brittany waited until he disappeared.
Then she grabbed my arm again.
"You stupid girl.""
I pulled away.
"What?""
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Mom already removed the recorder.""
My heart stopped.
She smiled.
"And whatever was inside it, you'll never hear it.""
I looked toward the dress.
The embroidered rose was still there.
But something about it looked different.
The petals were slightly uneven.
The hidden pocket had been opened.
I rushed toward the gown.
Brittany stepped in front of me.
"Don't touch my dress.""
I looked her straight in the eyes.
"Where's the recorder?""
She smiled.
"Ask your stepmother.""
Then she walked toward the makeup station.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Daniel appeared.
*Emily, don't play anything yet. I just received information about the competition director. There's a second person involved, and I think she's standing backstage with you.*
I looked around.
Then I saw a woman in a black dress watching me from the opposite side of the curtain.
It was Patricia, the competition coordinator.
May you like
And she was holding something small in her hand.
Something silver.
