Chapter Text
*** Monday morning ***
When Miranda burst through the halls of her office, she knew she needed to get rid of her second assistant. Before all the gods she knew, she swore that the girl was even more useless than she ever thought possible. She thought that hiring a girl who actually went to school would somehow bring up the very low bar of competence set by the assistants she’s had before. Obviously she had been wrong, and she needed to remedy the fatal mistake. Miranda’s resolve was steel, the incompetence staining the office by her mere presence would be gone by noon.
The gossip rags had one thing right about the editor-in-chief of Runway Magazine, she could destroy anyone who would dare to breathe wrong. Indeed, the echo of her heels had all employees on the floor flee upon her arrival. The silver haired woman could make grown men cry with a single perfectly shaped raised eyebrow. She exuded confidence and power, which were often the key to be respected and feared. Well, that and the fact that everyone thought she was an Alpha. Miranda never corrected them, she even used it to her advantage. The day she found that (very expensive) scent suppressant instilled deference rather than mockery, Miranda knew she would take on the role of the superior designation. The once poor and frail British girl was no more. In her stead is the head-strong and commanding Alpha that rules over New York, as Omegas (especially unmated ones) in positions of power were basically unheard of. Contrarily, Alphas were always praised and expected to be dominant. Miranda knew it was her calling. She has earned her title as the Ice Queen and intended to keep things her way.
Her way, which was obstructed by an anxious beta frantically trying to strictly abide by the editor’s rules. Miranda suppressed an eye roll and threw her coat and bag on her second assistant’s desk. The young brunette scrambled to put everything away without creasing the very expensive outwear. The small act should have brought satisfaction to the silver haired woman, but she felt a wave nausea instead. Her mind was playing tricks on her. As was her nose. She couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the scent of rainy forest that seemed to ooze out of this assistant of hers.
‘You only have to fire her !’ she screamed at her mind. But a small annoying, fierce voice at the back of her head made itself known and spoke louder than the rest. Treacherous Omega. Miranda was in trouble if that was her voice of reason. It was showing her a feeling she thought she had killed : guilt. The editor-in-chief vowed as she opened her eyes this morning, when she took a shower, when she got dressed, when she entered the Elias-Clark building, Miranda was going to fire that girl. For two days, it was all she could think about. She had dressed the part dammit, she wore all black, and the gold pendants around her neck acted as a glamourous armour. She was ready for battle. Ready for whatever-her-name-was to pack up her thing in a box and be out with it.
All that said, once in front of said smart and by Runway standards fat girl, Miranda found she could not, for the life of her, get the words out. They were so familiar to her and yet, something prevented her from saying them. Heavens, she needed to say ‘Get out of here, and never come back’, but the words got stuck in her throat.
Instead, Miranda berated, undermined and used her well known sharp tongue. She stood before the large windows in her office, giving her a superior-like glow. Stubbornly, she looked at the city before her, wishing the tears away. She sniffed and turned around slowly, determined to finish her speech about the stupid assistant’s inability to do her job.
It is when Miranda saw pure desperation on the young girl’s face that she confessed “I had hope. My God, I live on it.”
The look Andrea gave her made her retaliate. The girl was trembling, her chin wobbled. Pine trees filled her nostrils. Miranda’s anger surged ten folds. How dare she look so miserable after what she had done ? It was all her fault. Her weekend was supposed to be perfect and the brunette had ruined it. The girl wanted her approval ? She would never get it.
“You ended up disappointing me more than… any of the other silly girls.” Great, now her voice seemed off even to her own ears. The silver-haired woman wanted her gone from her sight, as soon as possible. She was supposed to be acclaimed after Sunday, by her girls, her husband, and her ex-husband, but she had suffered the opposite. All because of Andrea.
Just when Miranda thought she couldn’t take it anymore, the wide doe eyes started to water and her plump mouth started to plead her case shakily. The editor flopped into a chair and looked away so as to hide her own affliction.
“That’s all.” The usual dismissal shouldn’t have made her heart waver, but if it did, it was no one’s business but her own. She subtly wiped the traitor of a tear that has got away from her control, at the corner of her eye, and rubbed at her temples.
She had wanted to hurt the girl, yes ? So, why did it send a pang through her chest ? Why couldn’t she find the usual thrill of putting someone in their place ? The same infuriating voice from before chimed in, whispering that she knew, but Miranda refused to hear it. The silence that followed and the sight of the sad, retreating assistant gave her a headache.
*** Saturday evening ***
Miranda was still in Miami. Not in her townhouse in New York. Why ? because the useless weather decided to make an entrance. She should have boarded a plane by now, but no, a hurricane cancelled everything.
She called Andrea again. Still the same answer, no plane or private jets were available. The incompetence of her second assistant was baffling. Miranda knew a great number of people who owed her favors, surely someone could fly her out of here. It was only a three-hour flight, for crying out loud, was it really that difficult of a task for the young woman ? Has she cursed the editor ?
“Get me home.” Miranda barked out, before hanging up.
She opened the liquor cabinet of her hotel room and poured herself a whiskey. Miranda couldn’t do anything else other than contemplate her life choices and drown in anger. Her hands shook when she brought the drink to her lips. Maybe it was what she deserved after all. She wanted to scream and growl until her voice was raw and she wouldn’t be able to speak. Her Omega wanted to be let loose, go rampant and rip to shreds every piece of furniture in the room. She hurled the glass across the room instead. The editor watched in small satisfaction as it shattered against the wall.
She took another whiskey and with a heavy sigh, she lounged on the sofa. Outside, the storm was in full swing, much like her emotions. It was going to be a long night. Surely, it would stop and she could come back to her house. To her family. Perhaps she was having a bad dream and she would wake up tomorrow in her own bed, where she swore she would be. Her Omega sighed.
Her twin girls had a recital at school in the morning, and it was her duty to move heaven and earth to get to them. Both Caroline and Cassidy were so excited to show their mother what they were working on these past few months. It is all they talked about these days, and Miranda had seen the girls work so very hard with their tutor. She had noted how dedicated they were in their training during the weekend, when they thought she had gone out, or was working in her study. She had known what this performance in front of their teachers and classmates meant for them. They were looking forward to making their mother proud.
They made her vow to be there for them, and she did without any hesitation. Miranda was their most fervent admirer and supporter. Her eleven-year-olds are her whole world, they needed her. Both of them looked up to her and needed her encouragement.
Alas, no parent figure would be there for them, surely not their so-called father. Said beta ex-husband, Gregory, was only present when it suited him, the odd weekend when he would parade them around and spoil them rotten. Naturally, Miranda was a workalcoholic and she would also spoil them to make up for lost time, but she was there for them, in any way she could. She had the means to do so, her darling girls will not know poverty like she did. Gregory, however, would only buy their affection, and a school gathering is the least of his concerns.
Miranda remembered when she gave birth to the twins, all four of them were over the moon, so what’s changed ? Of course, the editor was not getting younger, beauty faded, and this pathetic excuse of a man decided to search young Omega blood elsewhere, but what happened to his fatherly duty ? He once promised to do everything in his power to be a present, loving father figure, but the second he found pleasure inside his secretary, nothing could compare. The man couldn’t handle the fact that he always came third in Miranda’s list of priorities. Her girls and her work and then him. It is this very reason why they had grown apart in the first place. Well, this and his acute liking towards barely legal Omega women. In the end, she stripped him of half his fortune, most of their children's custody, and all of his fragile beta pride.
Needless to say, when the opportunity arose for her girls to have another father figure, she jumped on it. Stephen was about her age, another beta, perfectly charming on paper and a rich business man. Miranda also believed that his status and his manners fit her charisma, their association was perfect to the eyes of the paparazzi. She thought he understood, working himself to the bone as he was, where her ambitions laid.
Speaking of the devil, he was calling. The silver haired woman let the call go to voicemail, much to her Omega’s contentment. She did not have the strength for another fight. They planned a dinner together tonight for appearances’ sake. No one could know that Miranda and Stephen Priestly weren’t on the best terms any more. That she was starting to despise his faint overpriced scent. That he started wearing heavy cologne to impress some underpaid intern at his firm. So they met up every now and then, where they would pretend to be the striking match everyone thought they were.
A date night, that is what they still called it. Stephen surely was calling to emphasise the fact that he was yet again left alone to his devices, while she was occupied elsewhere. For once, she had an excuse to skip it. Well, if this storm did her anything good, it was making her avoid enduring his insipid, drunken company. Her Omega purred. After all, he was her husband, they used to be in love, she believed. She made time for him, she showed up more than she ever did with Gregory. Miranda had made vows, she was planning to stick to them, she wanted to make good by him. Even if it meant that something inside her showed fangs in protest.
Miranda reminded herself that he, too, used to make an effort to connect with the twins at the beginning of their relationship. That was what attracted her to him in the first place, and she was grateful for it. Stephen took on the no small feat to make himself likeable to her daughters, and she was relieved. However, this new wind of fresh air soon disappeared when they got married. Christ, he couldn’t even tell them apart, let alone be there for a Sunday morning recital.
Miranda finished her drink in one gulp, before setting in on the table before her. Gods, she could already see the twins’ reflected pained, watery looks, if she was to be absent. She had called them earlier, and let hope linger in her voice. Oh, how much she yearned to have been there to tuck them into bed and kiss them goodnight. She could have accompanied them to their recital as a calming presence. Now, it seemed like a pipe dream.
Miranda was devastated to even think about their small heads looking around the auditorium to get a glimpse of her silver hair in the crowd, and being unable to find her. No one would be here for them, to have someone for them to be anchored, to lessen them of their nerves. They’d be crushed, and the whispers would start. Heavens, her little girls… Caroline is so sensitive, she would only cry, while Cassidy, much like her mother, would stew in cold resentment.
‘She really was what the people say, wasn’t she ? Unfit to be a mother.’ The editor thought.
Miranda put her face in her hands and a choked sob escaped her. She really was despicable. She slumped back on the sofa, tears coating her cheeks. She closed her eyes and let her sorrow overtake her until she fell into slumber.