The morning sunlight poured in through the sheer curtains, painting my room in soft hues of gold and cream. I blinked slowly, stretching beneath my silk sheets as the quiet hum of the city stirred outside. It was almost too peaceful—unnervingly so. For a moment, I just lay there, listening to the quiet, grounding myself.
By 9:45 a.m., I was seated at my desk, fresh-faced with my hair pulled into a low chignon, the kind that said put-together even if I hadn't slept well. I adjusted the angle of my webcam and clicked into the Zoom call right as the clock struck ten.
"Good morning, Sienna," Cara, my manager, greeted with her usual brisk tone. Her square-rimmed glasses sat low on her nose as she glanced between files on her desk.
"Morning, everyone," I replied smoothly, sipping from a steaming mug of Ethiopian roast.
"We'll get straight to it," she said. "The press tour kicks off next week. Tuesday morning show, red carpet Wednesday night, followed by the Harper's shoot Thursday, and the Vanity Q&A Friday."
I took a breath. "Let's stagger them. I don't want to be running on fumes by the time the premiere hits. We can move the Harper's shoot to Monday. Tell them I want to work with Felix again, he knows my angles."
A few chuckles sounded on the call. One of the younger assistants—Maya, I think—muttered, "Queen behavior," under her breath, forgetting her mic was on.
I grinned. "You said it, not me."
Her cheeks burned red in embarrassment upon realizing I had heard her and I didn't care.
By the time we wrapped, it was nearing noon. I leaned back in my chair, rolling my shoulders. One meeting down. A thousand things left to do.
But first—the twins.
Downstairs, the soft sounds of cartoons filtered from the living room. It was the weekend and Alina would be more than excited to stay home from school. I couldn't say the same for Leo though, he seemed to love school more than most kids his age ad it often amused me. I walked in to find Alina sitting crisscross on the rug, a tiara slightly askew on her wild curls, holding a plastic wand like a scepter. Leo sat beside her, back straight, puzzle pieces scattered around him in careful piles.
"Mama!" Alina squealed the moment she saw me. "Come be the fairy queen! I already banished Leo to the Forbidden Couch because he stole my wand!"
"I did not steal it," Leo replied in his usual deadpan, never looking up from the puzzle. "I borrowed it. You left it next to the juice box." For a pair of three year olds, they spoke really fluently, sometimes too fluently for their age.
Alina rolled her eyes so dramatically I almost burst out laughing. "That's stealing when you don't ask, Leo!"
I knelt between them and kissed their foreheads. "Alright, alright. Let's not start a war over a wand, Your Majesties."
Alina's eyes sparkled. "You can rule the kingdom with me, Mommy. We can make glitter laws and cuddle taxes."
Leo glanced up, expression unreadable but amused. "I'll handle the treasury."
"Of course you will," I said, ruffling his soft curls. He tolerated it, barely.
We spent the next hour playing. I wore a paper crown, read three books—two of which I was forced to perform in different voices—and refereed an epic debate on whether dragons were cooler than unicorns. Spoiler, the argument is still unresolved
Eventually, they wore themselves out and crashed on the couch in a puddle of stuffed animals and juice boxes. I watched them for a moment, heart aching in that tender way only motherhood can bring. Alina's lashes fluttered in sleep, one arm draped protectively over Leo,
who pretended not to like it but didn't move an inch.
At 5 p.m., the intercom buzzed. I was upstairs, fixing my lipstick, when madam Chu, my housekeeper's voice crackled through the hallway speaker.
"Stylist's here."
I padded down to open the door. Martine swept in, a whirlwind of Chanel, curls, and dramatic flair.
"Darling, we're going to make the Met Gala look like a garage sale," she declared before her eyes landed on the twins. She gasped ever so dramatically "Oh my God. You never told me you had tiny Greek statues living with you."
Alina peeked up from the couch, they must have woken up while I was still upstairs smiling shyly.
"I'm a princess. And Leo's a dragon accountant."
Martine clutched her chest. "I'm obsessed."
Alina giggled as Martine knelt to ruffle her curls. But when she reached for Leo, he gave her a polite but firm, "Don't."
She blinked. "Ah. Got it. No touching the young heir."
I smiled, slightly apologetic. "He's particular about personal space."
"I respect that," she said, standing to her full height. "Let's get to it."
We moved to my walk-in closet, a space that could rival some boutiques. Martine had racks wheeled in—silks, satins, sequins. She adjusted fits, pinned hems, clicked her tongue, and muttered couture curses under her breath.
I was halfway into a midnight blue, off-shoulder gown when my phone buzzed on the vanity.
It was Leo.
Not my Leo—the Leo. The one with the piercing green eyes and the slow, dangerous smile.
Dinner tonight? 8PM. My driver will pick you. Wear something that makes you feel Radiant.
My heart fluttered against my will. I was about to respond when another notification appeared.
Adrian: Can we talk tonight? Just for a moment. I need to see you.
My thumb hovered.
Delete.
I didn't hesitate.
I texted Leo back. Yes. See you at 8.
After Martine finished fussing over the final hemline, she left with air kisses and chaos in her wake.
By 7:45, I stood in front of the mirror. The gown clung to my curves like it was made for me, the fabric catching the light with every step. My makeup was sultry but restrained—smoky eyes, nude lips. I wore a single diamond choker and let my hair fall in soft waves down my back.
I turned slightly, checking the profile view, and then glanced at the door.
Tonight, I wasn't the woman Adrian left behind.
Tonight, I was every inch the woman who got back up.
And she wasn't done yet.