Chapter Text
WARNINGS: Mention of a miscarriage
Chapter 1
Andrea Sachs sat behind her desk, posture perfectly straight, as if the act of keeping her body upright could prevent the flood of memories threatening to consume her. The office buzzed with the low hum of productivity outside her door, but in the giant fishbowl that was her office, it was too quiet, the air thick with the weight of what was about to happen. Her eyes drifted down to the resume in front of her, where a name from her past stared back at her in neat black print.
She hadn’t seen that name in over a decade.
Caroline Priestly.
When was it that Andrea had seen Caroline last? She had to have been ten, maybe eleven years old, full of life, laughter, and boundless energy. And now, here she was, in Andrea’s office, the daughter of the woman who had once shattered Andrea’s heart into a thousand unrecognizable pieces.
‘I shouldn’t have agreed to this interview,’ Andrea thought, gripping the edges of the resume as if that could keep her grounded in the present.
WHy had Caroline even applied? DId she not understand that this job she’d applied to was to shadow her? Did Caroline not know who she was? Then again, why would Caroline know who she was? To Caroline she was just the new ‘it’ woman in the fashion industry. Making waves and changing how the e-commerce fashion industry worked. About The Fit was the company that all new graduates wanted to work for. A seven year start-up in Brooklyn, already moving from their expansion stage to their maturity stage. For the last two years they’d increased their gross profit and were on track to ending this fiscal year with their biggest increase yet. Doug was talking IPO in the next two years since Andrea had squashed the acquisition they’d had on the hook two years ago. It had been the right decision, Andrea wasn’t ready to give up her control of About the Fit, even if the acquisition would mean she’d leave a wealthy — even wealthier — woman.
Two years ago she’d finalized her divorce and was in the midst of a custody battle. At the time she had seriously considered selling the company. She’d have made herself a millionaire ten times over if she’d sold the company to the interested party. She’d win the custody battle easy and be able to do something else, find something different for herself to do. She’d done it before, hadn’t she? She went from journalist to entrepreneur. She could make a change again, she was only 36–okay okay, she was 37.
In the end, selling About The Fit hadn’t been what she wanted. She had considered it, especially when the offers started coming in, and if Ben hadn’t been in her life, she might have accepted one of them. But his presence had changed the course of her life, as often happens when you meet someone who is meant to leave an indelible mark on you. Ben had shown her that she was more than capable of running the company, of making it thrive, and of being the strong leader she had always been—without being less as a mother or losing the part of her that cared deeply about the people around her.
Andrea first met Ben Whittaker two years ago through the senior intern program at About The Fit, a program she had initiated to encourage mentorship and create opportunities for retirees who still had a passion for business. Ben had applied, his résumé standing out because of his extensive experience, though Andrea hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He was in his seventies, after all, and Andrea didn’t fully understand what value a retiree could bring to her fast-paced, cutting-edge fashion tech company. He could barely use a computer when he showed up! How was he to help her build out her e-commerce business?
She remembered that initial meeting—Ben had been warm, personable, and thoughtful, but Andrea, in her stress and hurry, had almost written him off as a sweet old man looking for something to do in his twilight years. She’d kept him on, but hadn’t planned to work with him herself.
Initially, she couldn’t see how Ben would fit into her world, and there were even moments where she considered firing him. He’d crossed what she felt were boundaries early on, getting personal in ways that made Andrea uncomfortable. She was used to keeping her personal life separate from work, especially when it came to Paige. Her daughter was her world, and talking about her at work felt like a vulnerability she couldn’t afford. When Ben had commented on the way Andrea juggled being a mother and a CEO, she had felt exposed, her defenses instantly rising. She had been this close to letting him go, convinced that his well-meaning nature wasn’t suited for the tough, no-nonsense business culture she had worked so hard to cultivate.
But something stopped her. Maybe it was the way Ben looked at her, as if he truly understood the weight she was carrying, or maybe it was the softness in his voice when he spoke of family, of finding balance in life. For the first time in a long time, someone was asking about her, not just the CEO, not just the businesswoman, but the person behind all of that. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed that until Ben pointed it out in his gentle, fatherly way. Letting him go would have been a mistake. A devastating one.
Ben had quickly become more than just an intern. He proved himself to be invaluable to Andrea both professionally and personally. His business acumen was sharp, honed over decades of experience, and soon Andrea found herself relying on him for advice and guidance. His calm, measured approach was the perfect counterbalance to her sometimes reactive and fast-paced decision-making style. But it was more than that. Ben became a mentor, offering the kind of steady, grounded wisdom that Andrea had been missing in her life. He didn’t just care about the company—he cared about her. In a way that no one else had in years.
In truth, Ben filled a void that Andrea hadn’t fully acknowledged. Her own father wasn’t in the picture anymore, their relationship severed when she decided to marry in a shotgun wedding that her family had vehemently opposed. Her parents had disowned her, and though she still kept in touch with her older sister, the distance between them—both emotional and geographical—made their relationship difficult. Her sister had her own life in Cincinnati, and Andrea was firmly rooted in New York. They spoke occasionally, but Andrea had felt the absence of a supportive family for years. Doug, her longest and truest friend, was an exception. But Andrea could admit—now—that she’s been lonely two years ago. Her marriage dissolved and a bitter ugly custody battle split her camp of friends and supporters to exactly two.
Ben came into her life at just the right time, when she was on the verge of becoming someone she wouldn’t recognize, someone she wouldn’t like.
It was no secret that in the years since launching About The Fit, Andrea had become hard-edged. She was curt and firm, unafraid to make demands and unflinching in her pursuit of success. She didn’t apologize for what she wanted, and in many ways, that had made her a powerful businesswoman. But it had also made her cold. She was judgmental, quick to dismiss people who didn’t meet her standards, and while that worked in business, it made her world small and isolating. With her daughter she was always warm and devoted, but outside of her daughter, Andrea had become someone she didn’t fully recognize.
Ben had softened those edges. He reminded her that not everything should be judged by its cover, that people—like businesses—deserved a deeper look. It was through Ben’s influence that she started to regain some of the empathy she had lost along the way.
Ben wasn’t just a mentor, though. He became a surrogate parent (filling the father and mother role in her life), a role Andrea hadn’t realized she missed and needed filled until Ben stepped into it. He guided her not just professionally, helping her smooth over rough business decisions and navigate complex challenges, but emotionally, too. He had a way of calming her down, of helping her see the bigger picture, and of making her laugh when everything seemed too overwhelming. His wisdom and experience were invaluable, but so was his kindness, his unwavering belief in her and what she was building.
But now, here she was, irritated because Ben—of all people—was the one who had put her in this awkward situation. He had insisted she interview Caroline Priestly for the senior assistant position, which had led to this moment—navigating a world where she was constantly reminded of Miranda Priestly. Ben had been the catalyst, and despite all the good he had brought into her life, Andrea couldn’t help but feel frustrated that he had been the one to throw her into this mess.
Still, as much as Andrea wanted to be mad at him, she knew that in the end, she wouldn’t be mad for long. But knowing that didn’t make this situation any easier.
All of this reminiscing was not helping her understand why she was about to interview Caroline Priestly for the personal assistant role. Her personal assistant role. As CEO of About The Fit, Andrea knew there was interest in the job. They’d gotten over four hundred applicants. A new record for one single role. Many were unsuitable to the role with no relevant experience. But their candidate pool had still ended up with 100 qualified candidates. How though, had that huge pool of candidates ended with Caroline Priestly?
Why had Doug and Ben put Caroline through to meet with her?
This, this situation was why she needed a dedicated human resources manager and not some third party consultant.
Robin Davies, she was great. I’ll ask Doug to see if she’s looking for a permanent role here. Andrea thought as she wrote down the idea in her notebook for later perusal.
She also added a note to bring up their budget for a FT role with Doug, best friend extraordinaire and Chief Financial Officer of About The Fit.
But none of that mattered now, because Caroline had applied, her application passed through the right filters, she’d met with Doug and Ben as rounds one and two of her interviews. And now she made it to the third and final round. All without Ben or Doug seemingly realizing the significance of her last name. Or maybe Doug had noticed and he was up to something sly. Hoping to use Caroline’s position here to ensure Elias Clarke publishing finally took them up on their advertisement request.
Caroline Priestly. Caroline and Cassidy Priestly. Daughters of…of Miranda Priestly.
Andrea hadn’t let herself think of Miranda Priestly in nearly a year. A whole year of peace, she reminded herself. A year where she had finally begun to feel like herself again after the mess that was her divorce then the custody battle followed by the chaos of finding the right school for her brilliant, beautiful daughter, Paige.
It seemed a year was all she’d get from peace. The universe was bringing Miranda back into her life. Not directly, no—but through her daughter, Caroline, which might actually be worse!
Andrea leaned back in her chair, willing herself to remain calm, though inside her heart raced.
The years she had spent entangled with Miranda had been some of the most intense and confusing of her life. Their relationship had always been a secret, a tangled mess of power dynamics and unspoken feelings–on Miranda’s side. Andrea had been young and idealistic, she’d so easily shared her love for Miranda, her desire to be all Miranda could want or need. But she had been young. Too young. And she was a woman. A young inexperiened unaffiliated woman. She didn’t come from money or the right family. She had no work experience outside her time as Miranda’s assistant. That and a dozen other reasons (excuses) had all contributed to what destroyed her relationship with Miranda. What had hurt the most back then was that all those excuses and reasons were all things she couldn’t change.
She couldn’t change her age. Didn’t want to change her gender. Couldn’t change her family or her work experience. She could just be who she was. And back then she was a woman madly and passionately in love with Miranda Priestly.
Gods, she’d been an idiot!
Miranda was beautiful, smart, driven, powerful, so maybe she wasn’t an idiot for falling for Miranda, she was just foolish to think their affair wouldn’t end in heartbreak. Which it had — ten times over.
Andrea’s mind recalled Miranda. Her sharp mind, her cutting words, her undeniable allure—it had been impossible for Andrea to resist. But it had also been impossible to stay.
Miranda had no intention of allowing their relationship to be more than stolen moments. Andrea had wanted more—needed more. And when she had realized Miranda would never give it, she had broken her own heart and choose her self worth and dignity over their relationship, and she left.
It took months to recover from that break-up. Miranda had ripped her heart out without even trying, and Andrea had filled the void with work. She had thrown herself into her budding journalism career at The New York Mirror. She’d worked her way up from cub reporter to Reporter — eventually to Senior Reporter in the five years she was there. When their doors were closing, Andrea landed a co-editor role at The New Yorker. This time without Miranda’s recommendation.
It didn’t hurt that as her career flourished her professional circles brought her closer to Miranda, if only to see her on the outskirts. To feed her broken heart the crumbs it didn’t need. As every time she saw Miranda it hurt. Especially when she was forced to watch as Miranda flaunted her new arm candy — the ‘next Mr. Priestly’. Andrea hated each and every one of the silver foxes Miranda was dating and was murderous towards the one Junior VP of finance at D.E Shaw. That boy — he was a boy compared to the men Miranda had dated — was only five years older than Andrea. Maybe six if you rounded up. The night Andrea had seen them together and Nigel had confirmed their relationship, well, Andrea had never had that much to drink in her life and she hasn’t had that much to drink since.
Rubbing shoulders with the publishing elite also brought her back into Christian Thompson’s orbit, and this time, Andrea didn’t have much reason to push him away. There was no commitment to Nate. There was no crazy pressure at Runway. There was no anything — loyalty, commitment, devotion— to Miranda.
And damn it all to hell, Andrea was young and had needs and Christian was still charming and ambitious, and just the rebound that she’d needed to get herself over Miranda Priestly. As if that were a thing, getting over Miranda Priestly!
Still, her affair and rebound with Christian was just what she needed. And although they had no intentions of making it into something serious, they had some good sex, maybe occasionally some great sex, but that was all. Their friends with benefits situation turned into something far more complicated when Andrea had csught what she thought was the stomach flu. And kept it, for three months. The positive sign on the pregnancy test — later confirmed on three others and a blood test at her PCP’s office, confirmed the pregnancy and the sudden complication to her and Christian’s relationship.
Christian, unlike anything Andrea had expected, had done what was right. He promised to be there for her and the baby. Offered for them to move in together — to find a bigger and better place — he’d do as much or as little as she’d wanted. And against her better judgement, she’d asked for it all. The support. The care. The kindness. The love and devotion and exclusivity of them starting a family together. He’d proposed a month later and four months into the pregnancy. She’d accepted with tears and a smile.
Their marriage had been a marriage of convenience, not necessarily love. Christian for all his charm, was no Prince Charming. He wasn’t the love of her life, hell, when she married him she wasn’t even sure she loved him. Certainly not as deeply as she’d loved Miranda — but she wanted there to be. And eventually, there was love.
Their friendship turned into a partnership and naturally Andrea found things about Christian to love – even while she found more things to dislike if not outright hate. Still, she’d cared about him. He’d been there for her during the hardest point in her life.The miscarriage had been late, she’d been seven months along. It had been devastating — to them both. They'd already found a new place for their family in Brooklyn.
“Brooklyn, Christian? Really?!”
“Look at the schools in the area. It’s a ten minute walk to the train and thirty to midtown, twenty to downtown. It’s, just look, there are playgroups and parks.”
Andrea smiled at his enthusiasm, “Fine! Haha, fine!”
They’d danced and ended up having a paint fight when they’d decorated the nursery, more paint on them than the walls. They’d picked out a name: Gregory Thomas Sachs. Their little boy.
That loss had been devastating to them both, and Christian was the only one that understood her grief in that time. She’d gone in for a check up with her OBGYN, an ultrasound, Christian standing beside her when the doctor couldn’t find a heart beat.
It happens, they’d said. No way to know what had happened, or why. The second trimester miscarriage meant that she had to have labor induced or wait until her body went into natural labor. She’d chosen to have it induced. Christian was there every step of the way. Through every painful contraction and devastated tear.
Christian was the one to keep her head above the rising tide of her turbulent despair. Her family had disowned her before the wedding and she only had one close friend — Doug—outside work acquaintances. Christian wasn’t the love of her life, sure, but he was her person. They’d gotten married because of her pregnancy and they stayed married because of their shared loss — at first.
It was a surprise to them both when Andrea started exhibiting signs of pregnancy a year later. They hadn’t been trying, but they weren’t being careful either. This pregnancy saw them both nervous wrecks. Andrea overly concerned and anxious about every little thing.
Christian was the sweetest and most caring he’d ever been in his whole life with Andrea during those long nine months. It wasn’t until they held their daughter, Paige Christina Sachs, that they both breathed easily. The first three years of Paige’s life their family had been happy. They celebrated birthdays and holidays with renewed energy and excitement. Christian was a wonderful father. And for a long while he was a wonderful husband too. But eventually, their incompatibility was bound to show itself. Christian didn’t like being outshined by Andrea’s success. He didn’t like how he had to stop traveling to be there for Paige while Andrea built About The Fit into a successful business.
They both tried to provide Paige with the family she deserved, but neither of them was truly happy. They smiled and laughed and Paige was the happiest little girl. But when they put Paige to bed and it was just the two of them there were brutal silences that neither of them was able to cut through.
When Paige turned four Christian filed for divorce.
The divorce hadn’t been a shock, nor had the fight for custody over Paige. Christian didn’t love Andrea, but he loved Paige to death, and Andrea didn’t want to take Paige away from him. But she couldn’t have Paige taken away from her either.
It had been a long, brutal custody battle, one that Andrea eventually won, only because Christian’s frequent travels made it clear that Paige would never have the stability she needed with him. But the stress of it all—motherhood, building her company About The Fit from the ground up, and managing the weight of her past—had nearly consumed her.
A gentle knock at the door broke through her thoughts. Andrea blinked, forcing herself to breathe, to remain calm.
“Come in,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
The door opened, and Caroline Priestly stepped into the room, her presence shifting between confidence and nervousness, as she wasn’t entirely sure of her place here yet. Andrea’s breath caught in her throat. Caroline had grown into her looks, that much was obvious. She was no longer the awkward child Andrea had last seen all those years ago. Instead, she stood tall—at least five-foot-eight—with the kind of effortless grace that seemed both inherited and practiced.
“Miss Sachs,” Caroline began, her voice confident but laced with the slightest hint of nerves. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
Andrea took her in, her professional demeanor doing little to mask the familiar pang in her chest. Caroline’s dark red hair was neatly pulled back into a low ponytail, the strands falling in loose waves around her freckled face. Her skin was porcelain, speckled with faint freckles that only added to her striking features. Dimples—faint but visible—framed her smile. But it was her eyes that caught Andrea off guard. Those piercing blue eyes. Miranda’s eyes.
The girl was dressed impeccably, her navy-blue blazer tailored to fit her frame perfectly. Underneath, a crisp white blouse was tucked into high-waisted black trousers, which were paired with sensible black loafers. The outfit was practical, clean, and professional—a deliberate choice, no doubt, to appear capable without trying too hard. The only designer she wore was the chained necklace around her next with her birthstone surrounded by diamonds.
Caroline was dressed for the part, but not in the way she could have dressed. Not if Miranda had helped her choose the outfit. But at 20 years old, Andrea had to wonder if Miranda still dresses the twins in designer labels. Or if they exerted their own independence and picked their own outfits and perhaps even paid for them as well.
Those thoughts were unprofessional, and she wiped them away. Focusing instead on getting through this interview.
“Caroline,” Andrea replied, her voice measured. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the empty chairs on the other side of her desk.
Caroline moved to sit down, her movements precise and controlled, but there was an unmistakable air of nervous energy around her. Andrea could see it in the way her fingers twitched slightly as she smoothed the fabric of her trousers, the way she sat with perfect posture but occasionally glanced down at her hands as if grounding herself.
“So,” Andrea said, leaning back in her chair, trying to appear as composed as ever. “Let’s start with the basics. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”
Caroline smiled again, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. I’m currently studying at the Fashion Institute of Technology—FIT. I’ve already completed my Associate’s in Production Management for Fashion and Related Industries, and I’m now working towards a double Bachelor’s in International Trade and Marketing for the Fashion Industries, and Advertising and Marketing Communications.”
Andrea arched an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. Caroline had been busy. “That’s an ambitious course load.”
Caroline nodded, a flicker of pride in her eyes. “It is, but I like to challenge myself. I finished my associates when I was 17, so the last three years have been dedicated to finishing my bachelor degrees.”
“Seventeen, that would mean you finished it while in high school?”
“I graduated from Stuyvesant High School when I was sixteen. I’ve always been interested in the intersection of fashion and business. It’s where I see myself contributing most.”
Andrea tapped the resume lightly on her desk, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts. “I see here that you worked at The Row as a marketing intern last summer, business operations intern at Tory Burch the summer before that and…” she browsed the page again to be sure she’d send the right name, “…Public relations intern at Oscar de La Renta’s New York fashion house.” All three internships were incredibly difficult to get and far more prestigious than the job Caroline would be doing here during her summer break.
“Yes! I’ve learned a lot during each of my internships. I believe the experiences there can help me in my role here at About the Fit.” Caroline seemed genuine and eager.
But still…
What are you doing here, Caroline? Her mind screamed, but her mouth stayed composed.
“Why do you want to work at About The Fit? This isn’t the typical path for someone coming out of FIT. Most of your peers would aim for larger fashion houses or publications, like the ones you’ve already worked for.”
Caroline hesitated for the briefest of moments before speaking, and in that pause, Andrea saw a glimpse of nerves—just enough to make Caroline seem human, rather than the formidable image she projected. “That’s exactly why I want to work here. I don’t want to take the easy road. I’ve worked at three different fashion houses in Nee York. I even did an internship in Italy at Versace between high school and college.” Andrea’s eyes widened for only a moment before she realized who would have been Caroline’s boss, Donatella Versace. Miranda's best friend.
“I was given the internship at Versace and Oscar de le Renta because of my last name.” Caroline hedged, being the first one to bring it up. “I changed my name on my resume when I applied for The Row and T-Burch.”
“Yet you’ve put Priestly down here.” Andrea stressed, pushing for Caroline to explain. “Why?”
"I didn’t want my name to get me in to those jobs. But here, I knew my mothers name wouldn’t help me get the job, but more likely keep me from getting it.”
Andrea leaned back in her chair. Interesting. So Caroline knew there was an animosity towards Miranda here. And anomosity from Miranda towards her. And she still wanted to work here. Color her confused.
“About The Fit is different. It’s built on merit, on hard work. I want to be part of that. I believe in what you’ve created here.”
Andrea felt a pang in her chest at Caroline’s words. The determination in her voice—the need to prove herself, to be more than just Miranda Priestly’s daughter—was all too familiar. Hadn’t she already pegged Caroline as exactly that--Miranda's daughter. That's all she saw her as. But here Caroline was asking for a chance to be recognized for her own worth. As just Caroline.
It was a similar ask and determination Andrea had once had when she had stood in front of Miranda, begging for her own chance to prove herself because she knew nothing about fashion but she was smart and hard working and would do a good job for her.
“Talk a bit more about the other experiences you have." Andrea asked, leaning forward slightly, keeping her voice neutral. Having noted that surrounded by those big names, Caroline also worked at no name fashion houses, shops, and companies as well.
“I’ve interned at a few other places,” Caroline said, her tone measured but sincere. “Last winter, I worked with a small boutique in the East Village, helping with production schedules and managing inventory. I also spent a few months at a marketing firm that specializes in digital strategies for emerging designers. I’m a fast learner. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
Andrea’s fingers drummed lightly on the desk, her mind racing. ‘She’s good,’ Andrea thought. ‘She’s very good.’ Caroline was composed, professional, and clearly intelligent. And, despite her nerves, there was a fire in her that Andrea couldn’t ignore.
But the more Caroline spoke, the more Andrea felt the weight of Miranda’s presence looming over her. It was impossible to separate the girl in front of her from the woman who had once dominated her life and owned her heart. Miranda’s shadow was everywhere—in the way Caroline’s blue eyes seemed to bore into her, in the way her smile, despite being softened by dimples, held the same sharpness Andrea had seen so many times before.
And it was too much.
Andrea closed the resume and set it aside, folding her hands neatly on the desk. “Caroline, you’ve made a good case for yourself, but I don’t think this is going to work.”
Caroline blinked, momentarily thrown. “What? Why not?”
Andrea took a deep breath, keeping her voice even. “I’m sure you’ll find a job elsewhere. Your resume is impressive, too impressive. You’ve worked at fashion houses double our size already. I don’t see what you will learn here that you won’t learn there.” Andrea was already moving to stand to see Caroline out. “And your mother’s name will open doors for you, even if you don’t want it to.”
Caroline’s expression hardened, and for a moment, Andrea saw a flash of Miranda’s steel in her gaze. “I don’t want my mother’s name to open doors for me,” Caroline said, her voice tight. “That’s why I’m here. About The Fit is the one place where my mother has no influence. I want to earn this, not have it handed to me. And I’ve worked at larger fashion houses, sure. But none of them were e-commerce. None of them were start ups breaking into two distinct industries, tech and fashion!” Caroline continued, seeing the slight waver in Andrea. "And sure, their social media accounts were top notch, but none of them have the same followership that you and About The Fit do. You're as much an icon as this company and I want to learn from you!"
Andrea’s resolve wavered. Caroline was so much like her mother, but at the same time, she was different—she was still young, still full of hope and ambition. She wasn’t jaded by the world yet.
And Andrea knew what that felt like. She had been that girl once. She had been the one sitting in front of Miranda Priestly, asking for a chance, desperate to prove herself. And now, here she was, in the same position Miranda had been all those years ago.
One thing was for certain, Caroline was unaccustomed to hearing the word no.
‘Don’t do it,’ Andrea thought to herself. ‘Don’t get involved.’ But before she could stop herself, Andrea leaned forward and pressed the intercom button on her phone. “Becky, can you come in here, please?”
Caroline looked confused, watching as Becky, Andrea’s executive assistant, entered the room a moment later.
“Becky, I’d like you to help Caroline get set up,” Andrea said, her voice firm. “She’ll be starting…” Andrea looked at Caroline for the answer.
“Uhh, to-tomorrow?” Caroline’s smile was nervous as if she didn’t want to let herself get excited just yet.
Andrea nodded, and turned to Becky, “She starts tomorrow. Make sure she goes through orientation with Ben.”
Caroline’s eyes widened, her shock giving way to a wide, beaming smile. Her dimples deepened, and her blue eyes sparkled with unfiltered joy. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Miss Sachs.”
Andrea nodded curtly, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest at the sight of that smile—Miranda’s smile.
“You’re welcome. Be here tomorrow morning at nine sharp.”
Caroline stood, still beaming, and shook Andrea’s hand, her grip firm. “I won’t let you down.”
“Oh and Caroline?”
Caroline stopped short and leaned back around the door with a wide but suddenly restful smile. “It’s Andrea or AJ, not Miss Sachs.”
“Right! Andrea. Got it! Thank you!”
Andrea watched as Caroline left the room, the door closing softly behind her. She let out a long, slow breath, her hands trembling slightly as she ran them through her hair.
What have I done?
Miranda’s smile. Miranda’s eyes. Miranda’s daughter.
It was as if the past had reached through time and dragged her back into its depths. And now, with Caroline working for her, there was no escaping it. No matter how hard she tried, Miranda Priestly was back in her life.
And Andrea had no idea what that meant for her future.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Andrea strode purposefully into Ben’s office, though her steps grew slower as the weight of the day settled over her. She wasn’t sure if she was seeking advice or just needed a place to scream, but she knew this office, with its actual walls—blessedly free of the glass that made her own space feel like a fishbowl—was the sanctuary she needed.
Ben looked up from his desk as Andrea entered, his face calm and expectant. He knew her well enough by now to recognize the telltale signs of a brewing storm. Without a word, she tossed herself onto the couch, burying her face in one of the pillows she had strategically placed there for moments exactly like this. The fabric muffled her voice as she let out a long, frustrated scream, one she hadn’t been able to release in her own glass-walled office. The scream faded, but the tension in her shoulders remained.
Ben, ever the patient observer, watched her with mild curiosity. He didn’t speak; he knew better than to try and get anything coherent out of Andrea when she was in this state. She would come around when she was ready. So he waited.
Andrea sat up after a few moments, smoothing her hair and straightening her blazer, trying to regain her composure. She crossed her legs, laced her fingers together, and shot Ben a glare so intense that he almost raised an eyebrow in concern.
“Yes…?” Ben prompted, his voice the perfect balance of amused and cautious.
“I hate you.”
Ben chuckled softly, unphased. “Well, I highly doubt that. But say you do hate me—why exactly do you feel that way about me today?”
Andrea’s lips pressed into a thin line as she exhaled sharply. “Because you forced me into this situation.”
“What situation, exactly?”
“Caroline Priestly.”
Ben blinked, processing the name. “Caroline Priestly? I interviewed her—liked her, in fact. She had great energy, a bit formal, but she knows her stuff. Better than most of the other candidates. Knew how to negotiate too! Got me to get Doug to increase her base salary by $3 more an hour.”
Andrea shot him another glare, fighting off a fond smile as she realized that Caroline had gotten one over on Ben, so the glare that followed was one with less heat. “I hired her.”
Ben smiled, missing the subtext at first. “That’s wonderful! I thought she’d be a great fit. You need someone with that kind of tenacity and intelligence for the job. What’s the issue?”
“The issue,” Andrea said, her voice tightening with frustration, “is that I’m not exactly thrilled about it. In fact, I feel like I just agreed to have my teeth pulled.”
Ben frowned, sensing there was more to this than just hiring a new assistant. “Why?”
Andrea leaned back into the couch, sinking into the cushions as if they might swallow her whole. “Because, Ben, it’s Caroline Priestly. As in, Miranda Priestly’s daughter.”
Ben raised an eyebrow, starting to understand. But he wanted Andrea to explain it to him so she had a chance to air her feelings about it. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Miranda Priestly…? Why is that name so familiar?”
Andrea sighed, closing her eyes as if the act of remembering was physically painful. “She’s the Editor-in-Chief of Runway magazine and the President of the Board at Elias Clarke. We’ve been chasing an advertising contract with them for years.”
Ben knew that already but he faked astonishment. Runway had been a white whale for them, a big-ticket account they had been angling for with no success. “Oh…right. So, you think this might complicate things?”
Andrea let out a humorless laugh. “It’s not about the business. I mean, yes, Miranda controls the ad placements, but that’s not the real issue here.”
Ben studied her closely knowing there was something deeper, something personal. “Then what is it?”
Andrea sighed, running a hand through her hair. She gripped the edge of her pant leg tightly, a telltale sign of her distress. “I have a history with her mother, Ben. A personal history. One even Doug doesn’t know about.” That surprised Ben, but as Andy continued he didn’t have much time to think about what it meant for Andy’s longest and best friend not to know about this personal history. “It’s why we’ve never gotten that contract. Miranda and I… we were involved. For over a year.”
Ben had known there was an older woman who had broken Andrea’s heart—she’d shared that much with him during a late-night conversation over dinner when Paige had gone to bed and she’d had one glass too many—but he hadn’t known it was Miranda Priestly. “So Miranda is the rich older woman…the one who kept your relationship a secret, the one you—” loved.
“Yes,” Andrea cut in, her voice softer now. “Miranda is the woman who broke my heart.”
The room was silent for a moment as Ben absorbed that information. He had always wondered who this mysterious woman was, but hearing it was Miranda Priestly added a new layer to the situation. Knowing that Andrea had once worked for the woman as her assistant.
He watched as Andrea’s shoulders sagged, the weight of the admission hanging in the air.
“That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud in almost 11 years.” Andrea admitted with a wince. The last person she’d told about Miranda had been Christian and that was only because he’d figured it out on his own. They hadn’t really talked about it per say. She hadn’t told him she loved Miranda or any specifics. She’d just confirmed that yes, she’d had a sexual affair with Miranda after Runway. And she'd only told him that much because they were about to get married and she felt he probably deserved to know.
“And does Caroline know?” Ben asked, his tone gentle.
Andrea shook her head. “No. I…” well did she? Andrea doubted it. “She has no reason to. I was never allowed to meet her or her sister. That was part of the problem. Miranda kept me a secret—kept us a secret. And after we broke up she was seen with so many eligible men I doubt she told the girls afterwards. What would have been the point?”
Ben frowned, trying to understand the full scope of what Andrea was feeling. “Then why did you hire Caroline? You could’ve let her go. There are other candidates.”
Andrea threw her hands up in frustration, the emotion pouring out of her in waves. “Because she’s the best candidate! She’s smart, capable, and she genuinely wants to work here. I can’t penalize her for being Miranda’s daughter. She deserves this shot.”
Ben nodded slowly, seeing the conflict in Andrea’s eyes. She wasn’t angry about hiring Caroline—she was angry at the memories it dredged up, at the unresolved feelings she still carried. “You don’t have to justify it to me,” Ben said. “I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t hire someone just because of their connections. You hired Caroline because she earned it. But what’s really bothering you?”
Andrea’s façade cracked slightly, her voice wavering. “Because now I have to face it, Ben. All of it. All the memories, the feelings of inadequacy and pain. It’s like Miranda is back in my life, even though she’s not here. And I don’t know how I’m going to handle it.”
Ben leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t need to handle Miranda. You need to handle yourself. Caroline isn’t her mother. She’s a young woman who’s eager to prove herself, just like you were when you first started. You don’t have to let Miranda back into your life just because Caroline is working here.”
Andrea looked at him, uncertainty written all over her face. “What if it’s not that simple?”
Ben smiled kindly. “It might not be. But I know you, Andrea. You’re resilient. You’ve built this company from the ground up, raised a brilliant daughter, and survived more challenges than most people would ever face. You can handle this. Caroline is her own person. And so are you. What happened with Miranda doesn’t have to define what happens with Caroline.”
Andrea stared at the floor for a long moment before looking back up at Ben. “You think I’m overthinking it?”
“I think you’re human,” Ben said, his voice full of warmth. “And I think you’re going to do what you always do: be the amazing, capable person you are. Teach Caroline. Let her learn. If her mother doesn’t need to be involved, don’t bring her into this. Focus on what you do best.”
Andrea nodded slowly, the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease. “You’re right. I just… needed to vent.”
Ben smiled, leaning back in his chair. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Andrea smiled, finally allowing herself to feel some of the weight lifting. She knew there would still be challenges ahead—emotional ones—but for now, Ben’s words gave her the clarity she needed.
“I guess it’ll be interesting,” Andrea said, standing up from the couch.
“Interesting is one way to put it,” Ben said, chuckling. “But you’ve faced worse.”
Andrea rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks, Ben.”
“Anytime, kid. Now go take on the day—and maybe try not to scream into too many pillows.”
Andrea laughed softly, her mood lighter as she walked out of Ben’s office. As the door closed behind her, she felt a little more grounded, ready to face whatever came next.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Andrea stepped through the front door of her brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the day. The sound of tiny, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway before a familiar voice squealed with excitement.
"Mommy!" Paige's delighted voice rang out as she ran to meet her mother, her light brown hair bouncing with each step. Andrea barely had time to drop her bag before Paige launched herself into her arms.
"My favorite munchkin," Andrea said as she scooped her up and spun her around, a wide smile spreading across her face despite the exhaustion.
"I'm your only munchkin," Paige corrected, her small hands clutching at Andrea's shoulders as she giggled.
"True, but you’re still my favorite," Andrea teased, planting a kiss on her daughter's forehead before setting her back down. The familiar warmth of Paige's presence wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. No matter how stressful the day, coming home to her daughter always softened the edges of her tiredness. Brought with it a new wave of energy that seemed to come out only with Paige. A mother superpower she wished she could bottle up and sell, as it’d just be another million dollar idea.
Paige beamed up at her. "Daddy’s here."
Andrea’s smile faltered, though she quickly recovered, her tone staying neutral. "He is?!"
"Yes, he is," a voice from the living room answered, smooth and casual.
Christian stepped into the hallway, his easy smile already in place. He was dressed casually in jeans and a designer shirt that seemed effortlessly expensive. His hair was longer than the last time Andrea had seen him, the loose curls framing his face in a way that made him look younger than his 39 years. He looked… comfortable. Too comfortable.
"I texted," Christian added, a slight shrug in his voice, as if that explained everything.
Andrea glanced down at her phone, realizing she hadn’t checked her messages since leaving the office. "I didn’t see it."
Christian tilted his head toward the kitchen. "Abigail’s still here."
Andrea’s eyes flicked toward the kitchen, where the familiar smell of cooking filled the air. Abigail, Paige’s nanny, was stirring something at the stove. "Of course," Andrea said dryly. "It smells way too good in here for you to have been the one cooking."
Christian clutched his chest dramatically, feigning a look of wounded pride. "You wound me, Andy."
Paige giggled, catching onto the playful banter. Christian winked at her, a conspiratorial grin forming. "Can Daddy stay for dinner?" Paige asked, her eyes wide and hopeful, the kind of look Andrea had a hard time saying no to.
Andrea hesitated, feeling the words no already on the tip of her tongue. The last thing she wanted was to prolong Christian’s unannounced visit. But when she looked into her daughter’s hazel eyes, so full of innocent hope, she felt herself soften. Damn those eyes.
"Sure," Andrea relented, glancing at Christian meaningfully. "But then I’m sure he has to go."
Christian raised his hands in mock surrender. "Mommy’s right. I’m flying out tomorrow morning, and I haven’t even packed yet."
Of course. Andrea realized now why he had come by without more notice. He was leaving again, and this was his last chance to see Paige before his trip. It made sense, even if it was frustrating. At least this time, he hadn’t sent Abigail home early without telling her, like last time. Andrea had made it very clear after that incident that she wouldn’t tolerate it again. Even two and a half years after their divorce, (8 months into the finalized custody arrangement).
Paige was still adjusting to having her parents live in separate homes. Christian knew better than to disrupt the routine they’d worked so hard to maintain.
Paige shook her head, sighing in that exasperated tone that only a six-year-old could pull off. "Daddy, you need to be more responsible."
Christian raised an eyebrow, looking toward Andrea as if accusing her of teaching their daughter that phrase. Andrea merely smirked, enjoying the light scolding her ex-husband was receiving.
Christian grinned sheepishly. "You’re right, Paige the Sage, I should be more responsible."
"Then you’ll do better next time?" Paige’s voice was serious now, her hands on her hips, mimicking the grown-up tone Andrea often used.
"Yes, ma’am," Christian said, a note of sincerity in his voice as he looked from his daughter to Andrea, guilt flickering in his eyes. "I’ll do better next time."
"Good." Paige beamed, the solemn moment melting away as quickly as it had come. "Will you come and play with me?"
"Of course!" Christian scooped her up in his arms, and Paige squealed in delight, her laughter filling the house with a brightness Andrea couldn’t help but smile at. Christian threw her over his shoulder playfully, making her giggle even louder.
"Daddy!" Paige giggled between breaths. "You should ask me before you pick me up."
"Oh, I should, huh?" Christian looked back at Andrea with a mock expression of disbelief. "Is that a rule now?"
Andrea shrugged, her smile never wavering. "You heard her."
"Alright," Christian said with mock solemnity. "But then how would I surprise you, Paige-Turner?"
Paige thought for a moment, then nodded sagely. "Okay. You can pick me up sometimes. To surprise me."
Christian grinned, turning back toward Andrea. "See? We worked it out."
The two of them disappeared into the living room, Paige’s delighted laughter echoing through the house. Andrea took a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as she headed into the kitchen to check in with Abigail.
"I’m sorry, Andrea," Abigail said quickly, glancing up from the stove. "I didn’t want to let Christian stay, but he insisted. I made sure to stay like you asked."
Andrea waved her off with a grateful smile. "Thank you for staying, Abigail. I appreciate it. I’m sorry I didn’t get your text."
Abigail nodded, looking relieved. "If you need me to stay longer, I can—"
The sound of Paige’s excited voice and Christian’s playful laughter carried from the other room, and Andrea smiled softly. "No, it’s fine. I’ll handle it. You can go home. I’ll take over dinner."
After a brief chat, Abigail left, leaving Andrea to join Christian and Paige in the living room.
Dinner was a surprisingly pleasant affair, with Paige dominating the conversation as she excitedly shared stories from her day. But as the night wore on and Paige fell asleep on the couch, Andrea found herself back in the kitchen with Christian, washing dishes in tense silence.
"Thank you for letting me stay tonight," Christian said after a while, his voice low as he handed Andrea another plate to dry. "I know I’m not supposed to just show up like that."
Andrea’s smile was tight, her movements precise as she dried the dish. "I’d appreciate a little more notice next time."
Christian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m trying, Andy."
"I know," Andrea said softly, placing the dish on the drying rack. "But trying isn’t good enough. I don’t want to always be the bad guy—the one who tells Paige you can’t stay or that you’re not around. She needs consistency, Christian."
Christian turned to face her, guilt evident in his eyes. "It’s not fair, Andy. I miss her. I miss seeing her every day."
Andrea glanced at him, her expression softening slightly. She knew it wasn’t easy for Christian. As much as she struggled with his sudden appearances, she couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to miss out on Paige’s everyday life. But she wasn’t going to apologize for putting her daughter first. They had both made their choices.
"It’s not about what’s fair to us," Andrea said, her voice firm but calm. "It’s about Paige. She deserves to love us both, without feeling like one of us is letting her down."
Christian nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. "I know. You’re right." He sighed, leaning against the counter. "I just… I’m doing my best here." The tears in his eyes as he looked away told Andrea he truly was doing his best. But his best just wasn’t good enough. Not anymore.
"I know you are," Andrea repeated, this time with a hint of sympathy. "But you need to do better."
They fell into silence again as they finished up the dishes. After a moment, Christian spoke again, his tone more casual. "I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m not sure how long–maybe two weeks, maybe longer."
Andrea turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "That’s your week with Paige."
"I know," Christian said, his voice quieter now. "I was hoping we could switch it. Maybe I could have her for an extra weekend when I get back?"
Andrea mentally went through the calendar in her head. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and she knew Christian genuinely wanted to make up for the time he missed with Paige. "We can make that work," she said after a moment.
Christian smiled, gratitude softening his usually confident expression. "Thank you, Andy."
Their hands, still covered in soap suds, brushed against each other as Christian reached out. They both paused for a moment, the bubble-laden touch almost nostalgic, a faint reminder of a time when things between them had been simpler. Andrea offered him a soft smile, bumping her shoulder against his.
"We’ll make this work," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. "For Paige."
Christian nodded, his expression softening.
After Christian helped tuck Paige into bed, he quietly kissed his daughter’s forehead and whispered goodnight. Andrea stood by the doorway, watching as Paige shifted slightly under her blanket, her small body finally surrendering to sleep. Christian glanced at Andrea with a soft smile, then gave her a silent nod before heading toward the door, his footsteps fading down the stairs.
When she heard the click of the front door closing behind him, Andrea exhaled. The house was finally quiet. For a few moments, she lingered in the hallway, just outside of Paige’s room, letting the stillness settle around her like a warm embrace.
Eventually, she stepped back into Paige’s room and stood in the doorway, gazing at her daughter as she slept, her tiny face peaceful and content. Paige looked so much like Christian—those same hazel eyes, that same unruly hair even if it was chestnut like hers. But the fierceness, the determination in her, that was all Andrea. A small smile tugged at Andrea’s lips as she watched Paige’s chest rise and fall with soft, even breaths.
This was her life now. A life she had once only dreamed of. She was the mother of a beautiful, brilliant little girl. The CEO of a company that had started as nothing more than a scribble in a notebook. She had built About The Fit from the ground up—through sleepless nights, countless hours of work, and sheer will. And now, it was thriving, a beacon in the fashion world, a company that represented everything she had once doubted herself capable of.
Her thoughts drifted back, as they often did, to the early days of About The Fit. The idea had first come to her while she was still with Miranda. She could almost feel the weight of those early memories, the intensity of those days when her relationship with Miranda was still new, intoxicating, and all-consuming.
It had been a quiet evening in her small apartment. She could still picture it so clearly—sitting on her worn-out couch, a notepad resting on her lap as she jotted down ideas. Miranda had come up behind her, silently reading over her shoulder, her breath warm against the back of Andrea’s neck.
“What are you writing?” Miranda had asked, her voice low, filled with curiosity. “An outline for a story?”
Andrea had shaken her head, feeling suddenly shy about the half-formed business idea scribbled in front of her. “No... I'm not really sure. It's nothing.”
“Mmm…then come back to bed.”
“Yes, Miranda.”
She’d put the notepad away, dismissing the idea as a fleeting thought, and joined Miranda in bed. The image of Miranda lounging there, wearing nothing but Andrea’s old Northwestern sweatshirt, had been mesmerizing. Back then, Miranda’s presence had this magnetic pull on her, and nothing—not even the vague outline of her potential business—could compete with the allure of her lover. Her half naked lover.
It wasn’t until almost a year later that she found that same notepad again, the forgotten scribbles of About The Fit tucked away in a drawer. By then, her relationship with Miranda had deepened into something more complicated, something more painful. She had decided to pitch the idea to Miranda, hoping for encouragement, for support. But Miranda had been cutting, dismissive, her tone as sharp as the lines of her perfectly tailored suits.
“It’ll never work,” Miranda had said, her words biting. “Why are you even playing around with this? You’re a journalist, not a businesswoman. Fashion isn’t your focus, or did you forget?”
Andrea hadn’t forgotten. But she couldn’t explain to Miranda why fashion still fascinated her, why the world of design and style had stayed with her even after leaving Runway. The truth was, Andrea had fallen in love with fashion because it was Miranda’s world, and she had been enthralled by everything that consumed the woman she loved.
But Miranda’s words had hurt. They’d stung in a way Andrea hadn’t been prepared for, so she had let the idea go again, pushing it aside to focus on her career in journalism. Until, that is, life had thrown a curveball–her break up with Miranda and rekindling friends with benefits relationship with Christian–and then a slider that hit so low it was like the world wanted to gut punch her and say ‘fuck you’ all at the same time.
It was after her miscarriage, when she had been on bed rest, that Andrea finally revisited the idea in earnest. It had been a dark, painful time, but she had needed something—anything—to distract her from the overwhelming grief. Christian had been there for her then, supporting them both financially and emotionally. It hadn’t always been bad between them. In those early days, Christian had been her rock, and she had been grateful.
Before returning to The New Yorker as co-editor, Andrea had reached out to Nigel Kipling, Miranda’s former second-in-command, newly back at RUnway after Men’s Runway went under – where he’d been editor in chief. Andrea had kept in touch with Nigel and Emily. Though it was harder to keep in touch with Emily now that she was making her way up the ladder at Runway UK. She had asked him to meet for lunch, nervously explaining her business concept. Nigel, ever the astute observer of fashion and trends, had been intrigued. He had even offered to back her himself, though his financial contribution had been small compared to the investor he introduced her to. But he’d had enough faith in her idea and her to make the introduction – which Andrea was eternally grateful.
From there, About The Fit had taken off. Andrea had thrown herself into building the brand, using her natural Midwestern charm and savvy understanding of social media to grow a dedicated following. She had become a master of navigating the Pre-Seed and Seed stages of funding, always pushing forward, always believing in what About The Fit could become.
In those early years, Christian had been her biggest supporter. She’d always been grateful for that. Even though their marriage hadn’t survived, even though things had fallen apart, she would never forget how instrumental he had been in those first steps.
But now… things were different. They had built separate lives. She was a single mother, raising her daughter in the Brooklyn brownstone she had bought with the success of her company. She was also a 37-year-old CEO who had turned a dream into a multimillion-dollar business. Yet, somehow, she found herself circling back to the emotions she thought she had left behind when she was a young, broke, idealistic 25 year old still in love with Miranda Priestly.
Ben had been right, though. As he often was.
Caroline Priestly wasn’t Miranda. She was her own person, deserving of a chance. And despite the complicated feelings that swirled inside her, Andrea was eager to give her that chance.
Standing in the doorway, watching Paige sleep, Andrea felt a sense of peace settle over her. She was a mother. She was a CEO. And no matter what the future held—whether it involved Caroline Priestly, Miranda Priestly or the echoes of the past—she would continue to move forward, for herself and for the little girl who meant everything to her.
With a soft smile, Andrea turned off the light and quietly closed Paige’s door behind her.
End Chapter One