All Chapters of Falling For My Ex Husband’s Uncle Wasn’t Part Of My Plan : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The backstage was complete chaos. Models were everywhere, moving in every direction at once, some half dressed, some fully styled, all of them being pulled and adjusted by the small army of stylists, hair and makeup artists, and assistants that had descended on the space over the past three hours. Someone was shouting about a missing shoe. Someone else was pressing a jacket with about forty-five seconds to spare. An assistant came running past carrying three garment bags over one arm and a walkie-talkie in the other hand. Nadia was in the middle of all of it, moving from model to model, checking each look herself. Straightening collars. Fixing sleeves. Adjusting hems by fractions of an inch that only she could see. She found a small thread loose at the cuff of the fourth piece and fixed it on the spot, her hands steady even though her chest was doing something considerably less steady underneath her own perfectly chosen outfit. She moved to the next model. Checked the collar detai

Dorian POV The event should have been easy to forget. That’s what I kept telling myself, for the first day or two afterward. It was a work event, essentially. A business function I had attended because my name was on the guest list through a professional connection. I had watched a runway show, drunk champagne at a reception, and gone home. Simple. Forgettable. Except I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I sat through meetings, nodded at the right moments, signed off on reports that crossed my desk, answered emails that required my attention. Externally, nothing was different about my week. But every few minutes, without warning, my mind drifted back. The applause. The way it had grown louder after each look, building on itself. Nadia walking onto that runway and stopping for a second, blinded by the cameras, and then smiling. That real, unguarded smile that reached everywhere on her face at once. Everyone around her, congratulating her, reaching for her, wanting to be near the t

Dorian POV I was buried in documents when my secretary knocked and told me my father wanted to see me. I assumed it was about the Henderson account. We had been going back and forth on the terms for two weeks and my father had opinions about the final numbers that he hadn’t fully voiced yet. I saved my work, straightened my jacket, and walked down the corridor toward his office with my mind already organizing the relevant figures. I walked in. My father was sitting behind his desk, not looking at documents, not on a call. Just sitting there with his phone in his hand and an expression I couldn’t immediately read. “Close the door,” he said. I did. “Sit down.” I sat. He looked at me for a second. “Is everything alright between you and your girlfriend?” I frowned. “Of course. Why?” He didn’t answer right away. He just turned his phone over and slid it across the desk toward me. I looked down at the screen. It was a message. From Lena. Sent to my father’s number. Mr. Hargrove

Mara POV I saw the headline on the entertainment site I had open on my own phone, which loaded automatically when I unlocked it. HARGROVE HEIR DORIAN HARGROVE TO MARRY LENA WHITMORE. COUPLE EXPECTING THEIR FIRST CHILD. I stared at it for a few seconds, standing in the middle of the parking lot. Then I put my phone in my bag and walked the rest of the way to Nadia’s work place. Nadia was already at her desk when I arrived, sketching like someone who had been at it for a while. Her coffee was half finished beside her, already gone slightly cold as always whenever she got absorbed in something. I stood in the doorway for a second, trying to read her without her noticing me staring. “Have you seen the news?” I asked. She didn’t look up immediately. “I have.” “You have?” “It was the first thing I saw when I opened my phone this morning.” She set her pencil down then and looked up at me, a faint, unreadable smile on her face. “It’s everywhere.” I walked further into the studio, w

The Hargrove estate had transformed completely over the past weeks. Wedding planners moved through the hallways carrying clipboards and speaking in low voices to each other. Florists had set up a temporary display along the dining room wall, sample arrangements in varying sizes and colors, white peonies beside ivory roses that Vivienne had pointed at three separate times while saying yes, exactly that, but fuller. Garment bags hung from doors and chair backs throughout the ground floor. Invitation mockups were spread across the dining table in rows. Vivienne moved through all of it like she had been waiting her entire life for this moment. She had a tablet in one hand and strong opinions about everything. “The peonies on the left arrangement are too open,” she told the lead florist without stopping walking. “They need to be tighter. This is a Hargrove wedding.” She moved on before the florist could respond. She had begun referring to Lena as my daughter sometime in the past week