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The last time Kimberly Owens stood in New York, she was barefoot, pregnant, and bleeding from the heart.
Now she was back in heels, holding a slim portfolio, and doing everything she could to keep her hands from shaking. Her reflection in the glass doors looked unfamiliar. Smooth hair, with a subtle makeup. The cheap-but-decent blazer borrowed from her friend. She didn’t look like someone desperate for a second chance. But she was. She pushed through the revolving doors into the dazzling lobby of Harrington Modeling Agency. It was cold in the kind of way that didn’t come from air conditioning. It was the kind of cold that said we don’t have time for nerves here. As she walked further, she saw stylish men and women walked by in expensive shoes, looking bored, like coming to one of the best modeling agencies in the world was just normal for them. Kimberly gripped her bag tighter. She hadn’t walked a runway in six years. Hadn’t worn anything but mom jeans and Keira's glittery stickers on her arms most days. But today had to work. If she blew this, it wasn’t just her dreams at stake. It was rent and groceries. The daycare bill waiting unpaid on her kitchen table. She stepped up to the receptionist’s desk. The woman looked up from her computer with such elegance. She had a sharp red lipstick on, and a flat expression on her face it made Kimberly swallow. Her eyes scanned Kimberly in one sweep, pausing at the fraying seam on her blazer sleeve. Kimberly straightened instinctively. “Name?” “Kimberly Owens.” Kimberly replied sharply. The woman tapped on her computer for a second before she looked up. “Head to fifteenth floor. The others are already waiting. You’ll be called in shortly.” “Thank you,” Kimberly said. The receptionist didn’t answer. She just returned to her screen and waved her toward the elevator. Kimberly turned, took a steadying breath, then walked toward the silver doors, her heels echoing on the glassy floors. She pressed the button and waited, nerves buzzing under her skin. A reflection flickered beside hers in the fancy steel. It was a tall, well-dressed man standing a few feet away. He didn't glance at her. He was on the phone, voice low and firm, saying something about "tightening selection standards." Kimberly quickly averted her gaze, exhaling. The elevator opened with a soft ding, and she stepped in alone. Stepping into the fifteenth floor was like stepping onto a cloud. Wide, white, and silent. A long hallway led to a double-door room where other candidates waited. Kimberly’s stomach flipped. She wasn’t the only one chasing dreams today. The waiting hall was already crowded, women in tight black dresses, impossibly high heels, and expressions that could make one uncomfortable. Kimberly felt every second of the six years she’d been away from this world. She took a seat near the corner, silently praying the others couldn’t hear the nervous pounding in her chest. But of course a few girls threw glances her way when she walked in. One even sized her up from head to toe with a smirk, like she already knew Kimberly wasn’t a threat. She whispered something to another and giggled. Kimberly scoffed and looked away quickly, trying to stay calm. Ignore it, she told herself. She had walked into scarier rooms. Given birth alone in a hospital, faced rejections, landlords and life itself. She could survive this too. She was doing this for Keira. Ten minutes passed. Then people began to whisper when a tall woman with an iPad walked in. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said crisply. “Mr. Harrington will be joining us shortly. He’ll make his selection himself. Please be ready.” Gasps followed upon hearing that. Even the girls who’d been pretending to be calm sat straighter, fixed their hair. Someone whispered, “The Bryce Harrington? Oh my gosh!” Kimberly on the other hand, frowned upon hearing the name. Mr. Harrington? The name stirred something in her chest. She’d heard it before. Probably in one of those business articles or on the side of a high-rise billboard. Billionaire CEO, Media mogul. Fashion industry shark. Whoever he was didn't matter to her. What mattered to her most, was getting this job she had come to audition for. The door opened again, and they all heard the soft footsteps. He walked in like he owned the world, which of course he did. Kimberly didn’t look at him immediately. She was too busy breathing through the sudden weight in her chest. But then his voice came. cool, deep, and unmistakably familiar. When the owner of the voice stepped in, Kimberly’s whole body froze. He was tall in a sharp suit, with gray eyes that swept the room like a storm. Bryce Harrington. This..... this was the man from six years ago. Kimberly's knees almost gave out. She wasn't dreaming, was she? Bryce didn’t notice her at first. He was speaking to his assistant, walking past the girls one by one, eyes cool and unreadable. But when his gaze landed on Kimberly, everything stopped. The room instantly faded. The voices, the whispers, the excitement. It all vanished into a tensed silence. It was just the two of them. Staring.The late afternoon sun swept through the tall windows of the Harrington family home, bathing every object with a soft golden glow over the sunroom that overlooked the sprawling rose garden. Three years had passed since that perfect spring wedding, and the estate had transformed in the most wonderful ways. A new swing set stood beneath the old oak tree, painted in soft pink and white. A small vegetable patch-Keira's proud project, bloomed with cherry tomatoes and colorful marigolds. And in the distance, a gentle white pony grazed lazily in the fenced paddock, its name (Sparkles) painted on a wooden sign in wobbly five-year-old handwriting.Inside, the air smelled of fresh vanilla cake and wildflowers.Kimberly stood at the kitchen island, carefully piping pale blush frosting onto a three-tiered birthday cake. Her hair was loosely tied back, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and she wore a simple sundress that hugged her gently rounded belly. At six months pregnant with their
A FEW WEEKS LATER ~~ THE WEDDINGThe late spring sun bathed the sprawling rose garden of Bryce’s countryside estate in a soft, glow. Fairy lights twinkled from the trees and along the elegant flower arch, were ivory garden roses, blush ranunculus, and delicate spirea intertwined with sage greenery. Rows of white chairs held their intimate circle of about a hundred guests—close friends, family, and a handful of trusted associates, who watched with warm smiles as the string quartet played a gentle, romantic melody.Keira, looking like an absolute princess in her blush-pink tulle gown with sparkling accents and a crown of tiny roses, walked ahead of Kimberly as the flower girl. She took her role very seriously, at first. With a small white basket in hand, she scattered rose petals mixed with gold confetti in dramatic handfuls, twirling once or twice for good measure. The guests chuckled softly at her theatrical flair.Then came Kimberly, radiant in her off-the-shoulder A-line gown. The
Bryce hadn’t said anything right away when he heard it. He had simply frozen, his gaze snapping to Kimberly’s face, searching her expression to see if she had heard the same thing he had. He needed to be sure it wasn't a hallucination brought on by the stress of the afternoon.And now, a full hour later, it was still sinking in, slow and deep, like warm water you don’t realize is rising until it’s already up to your chest.Pregnant.His thumb kept moving in these slow, gentle circles over the back of her hand. Over and over again, the same little motion, like he needed that steady rhythm just to keep himself grounded in the moment.Kimberly caught him staring and the corners of her mouth lifted just a tiny bit, even after everything that had happened.“You’re staring again,” she whispered, her voice still a little soft and tired.Bryce didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t.“Didn’t plan on stopping,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I just found out my wife is ca
**********Bryce was in the middle of a high-stakes board meeting when his phone buzzed with a frantic text from Cindy. He didn't bother to read the whole thing, the first few words were enough to stir something in him. “Your wife is having a breakdown. Her dad showed up.”The instant he read that, he left the meeting without a word to his directors.In just few minutes, he was in the estate of his mansion. The sight that greeted him when he entered the house, stoped him dead in his tracks. Kimberly was huddled on the couch, looking nothing like the woman he saw this morning before leaving for work. Her mascara had left dark tracks down her pale cheeks. She looked so small and haunted.Bryce was across the room in just two strides, dropping to his knees in front of her. He didn’t care about his custom suit or the fact that she was trembling so hard he could feel it.“Kim,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He took her
The boutique, which seconds ago felt like a sanctuary of lace and laughter, suddenly felt like a tomb. Kimberly didn’t move. She couldn't. Her reflection, once a vision of a “garden fairy,” now looked like a ghost. That couldn't be her dad, right?Someone tell her it wasn't her father she was staring at right now. But reality soon sank back into her, reminding her she was looking at exactly the man she thought she was hallucinating.He looked older, his hair was silvered now, and his posture slightly stooped, but the eyes were the same. The same eyes that had looked at her years ago, and had told her she was getting married, and had given her no room for protest. Raymond was holding a small, weathered envelope in his trembling hands, looking entirely out of place amidst the ivory silk and expensive champagne.“Kimberly,” he croaked. The sound of her name in his voice was like sandpaper on a raw wound.The spell broke
~~ A FEW DAYS LATER ~~Cindy sat on a plush velvet chaise nearby, her legs crossed, with a glass of champagne in hand and a huge grin on her face as she sipped from her glass, her eyes never leaving her best friend who stood on the raised platform in front of a three-way mirror, her hands smoothing over the delicate fabric of the dress she currently had on. It was a romantic off-the-shoulder A-line gown with intricate lace appliqués that looked like delicate vines and wildflowers climbing up the bodice and cascading gently down the skirt. The lightweight chiffon flowed effortlessly, moving with her like a soft breeze, ideal for an outdoor ceremony at the countryside estate that she and her “fiance” had agreed on. A subtle blush undertone in the lace gave it that whimsical garden feel without being overly sweet.“Oh my God, Kim,” Cindy breathed, fanning herself dramatically. “That’s the one. I’m calling it. You look like a literal garden fairy who decided to become a queen. Bryce is







