Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 179

Chapter 179

The Lewis Fashion Institute auditorium buzzed with conversation and anticipation. Rows of seats filled with students, faculty, industry professionals, and families who’d come to support the young designers. Stage lights illuminated a long white runway that stretched from behind a black curtain all the way to the front of the

room.

Backstage, Ria stood in front of a full-length mirror, smoothing down her black dress. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Six months of work hung on racks behind her. Six outfits that told a story she wasn’t sure she was ready to share with strangers.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” Lucia appeared beside her in the mirror, placing gentle hands on Ria’s shoulders. “And your collection is stunning.”

“What if they hate it?” Ria’s voice came out small. Scared. “What if they don’t understand what I was trying to say?”

“Then they don’t deserve to understand it.” Alexander’s voice came from the doorway. He walked over with Lucas, Monica, and Lena trailing behind him. “But they will. Because what you’ve created is extraordinary.”

Monica hugged Ria from behind. “We’re all out there in the front row. All of us. Watching you shine.”

Lucas grinned. “Try not to trip on the runway. I have my phone ready to record every second.”

“Lucas!” Lena smacked his arm. “Don’t make her more nervous!”

Ria laughed despite her anxiety. Having them all here, supporting her like this, made her chest feel tight with emotion she couldn’t quite name. Love, maybe. Belonging. The feeling of being seen and valued for who she really was.

“Five minutes, Ms. Hart.” A student assistant poked her head through the curtain. “Your models are in position.”

Ria took a deep breath. This was it. Six months of sketching and sewing and pouring her heart into fabric. Six months of transforming her trauma into something people could see and touch and maybe understand.

Her family filed out to take their seats. Lucia squeezed her hand one more time before leaving. “We’re so proud of you. No matter what happens out there.”

Then Ria was alone with her racing heart and her collection and the knowledge that in five minutes, she would be sharing the most vulnerable parts of herself with a room full of strangers.

The lights dimmed. The audience quieted. A voice came over the speakers announcing the next designer.” Please welcome Ria Hart with her collection titled ‘Rising.”

Applause filled the auditorium as music began to play. Soft at first. Haunting. The kind of melody that made you think of winter and darkness and things that hurt.

The first model stepped onto the runway.

She wore an outfit in shades of gray and black. A long skirt that dragged behind her like a shadow. A top with sleeves that covered her hands completely, hiding them from view. The fabric looked heavy, suffocating. Dark embroidery crawled up the sleeves like vines, trapping the wearer inside the clothes.

This was the before. The darkness. The girl who’d been told she wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, worthy enough. The girl who’d hidden herself under layers of other people’s expectations.

The second model followed. Her outfit was still dark but now there were hints of color. Deep purples and blues bleeding through the black like bruises becoming visible. The sleeves were shorter now, showing wrists. The skirt was lighter, easier to move in. But the embroidery still climbed up the fabric, still held on tight.

This was the moment of realization. When the darkness became visible. When the hurt could no longer be hidden.

The third model wore an outfit that seemed to be tearing itself apart. Half the garment was dark, still clinging to the past. But the other half was lighter, brighter. Reds and oranges like sunrise fighting through night. The fabric literally split down the middle, sho

he’d been and who she wanted to

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This was the breaking point. The moment of choice. Stay in the darkness or fight toward the light.

The fourth model’s outfit told the story of that fight. It was chaotic. Messy. Colors clashed against each other. Some seams were deliberately rough, showing the struggle of putting yourself back together. The embroidery was breaking apart, threads loose and wild. But underneath, stronger fabric showed through.

This was the hard work of healing. The ugly middle part that nobody talks about. When you’re not who you were but not yet who you’re becoming.

The fifth model wore something softer. Lighter colors dominating now. Pastels mixed with brighter shades. The embroidery had transformed into something beautiful instead of restricting. Flowers instead of vines. The fabric flowed when she moved, no longer weighing her down.

This was acceptance. This was learning to forgive yourself. This was the moment you realize you’re going to survive.

The sixth and final model stepped onto the runway and the audience gasped. Her outfit was radiant. White and gold with touches of every color that had come before. The sleeves were gone, arms bare and free. The skirt was short and light, made for dancing. Embroidery covered the bodice but now it looked like wings spreading across the fabric. Like the wearer could fly if she wanted to.

This was rising. This was becoming. This was the girl who’d survived the darkness and come out stronger on the other side.

All six models lined up on stage as the music swelled. They represented the journey. The transformation. The truth that healing isn’t linear and sometimes you carry pieces of who you were even as you become someone

new.

The audience erupted in applause. Ria stepped out from behind the curtain, her legs shaking so badly she thought she might fall. But she made it to the center of the runway where her models stood.

The applause continued. People were standing now. In the front row, her family was on their feet. Monica had tears streaming down her face. Lucas whistled loudly. Lena jumped up and down. Alexander had his arm around Lucia, who was crying and smiling at the same time.

A microphone was handed to Ria. The assistant director of the institute gestured for her to speak. To explain her collection to the audience.

Ria’s hands shook as she held the microphone. For a moment, she couldn’t find words. Couldn’t figure out how to explain what these clothes meant. What they represented.

Then she looked at her family in the front row. At Monica, who understood darkness. At Lucas, who understood trying to be strong for everyone else. At Lena, who understood finding yourself through creation. At Lucia and Alexander, who understood unconditional love.

“My collection is called ‘Rising.” Her voice came out quiet at first, then stronger. “It tells the story of a girl who grew up thinking she wasn’t enough. Who was told over and over that she was plain, boring, forgettable. Who believed those lies for so long that she forgot who she really was.”

The auditorium was completely silent now. Everyone listening.

“Each outfit represents a different stage of her journey. From darkness to confusion to that moment when you have to choose whether to stay broken or start putting yourself back together. From the messy middle of healing to acceptance to finally rising above everything that tried to destroy you.”

Ria’s voice cracked but she pushed through. “This collection is personal. It’s my story. But I think it’s a lot of other people’s stories too. Everyone here has probably felt like they weren’t enough at some point. Everyone has had moments of darkness. Everyone has had to choose whether to stay down or get back up.”

She paused, gathering courage for what she wanted to say next. “I want to talk about forgiveness. Real forgiveness. Not the kind where you pretend everything is okay. But the kind where you acknowledge the hurt and you choose to let it go anyway because holding onto it is destroying you.”

Her eyes found Marco in the back of the auditorium. She hadn’t known if he would come. Hadn’t been sure she

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wanted him to. But there he sat, alone in the last row, watching with an expression she couldn’t read.

“If my biological father is watching this, I want you to know something.” Ria’s voice came stronger now. Clear. ” I forgive you. Not because what you did was okay. Not because the words you said didn’t hurt. Not because I’ ve forgotten how it felt to be told I wasn’t good enough. I forgive you because I refuse to carry that pain anymore. I forgive you because I deserve peace. I forgive you because holding onto anger was keeping me in the darkness.”

Marco’s face crumpled. Even from the stage, Ria could see tears on his cheeks.

“But forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean pretending the past didn’t happen. It means I acknowledge what happened and I choose to move forward anyway. It means I take the lessons from the darkness and use them to appreciate the light even more.”

Ria turned her attention to Lucia and Alexander. “I also want to thank the people who saved my life. My mother, who never stopped fighting for us even when we pushed her away. Who forgave us for choosing wrong. Who showed us what unconditional love really looks like.”

Lucia’s hands covered her mouth, tears flowing freely now.

“And the man I call Dad. Not because biology made him my father. But because he chose to be. Because he showed me that family isn’t about blood. It’s about showing up every single day. It’s about loving someone even when they’re broken and helping them put themselves back together without trying to control what shape they take.”

Alexander’s jaw clenched with emotion, his eyes shining.

“They gave me a second chance at life. They gave me permission to be myself. They gave me the safety and space I needed to heal. And they showed me that I am enough. Exactly as I am. Without having to change or hide or pretend to be someone else.”

Ria’s voice broke completely now but she kept going. “This collection exists because they loved me back to life. Because they believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Because they saw potential in a broken girl and gave her the tools to become whole again.”

She looked out at the audience, at all the faces watching her. “So if you’re sitting here tonight feeling like you’ re not enough, please hear me. You are. You are enough. Your story matters. Your pain matters. Your journey matters. And you deserve people who see your worth even when you can’t see it yourself.”

The auditorium erupted. People weren’t just clapping anymore. They were cheering. Standing. Some were crying. The applause went on and on.

Ria’s models took their final walk down the runway as the music played. Ria followed them off stage, her legs barely holding her up. The moment she was behind the curtain, she collapsed against the wall, shaking with adrenaline and relief and emotion too big to contain.

Her family rushed backstage. Monica got to her first, wrapping her in a tight hug. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Lucas was right behind her. “You killed it. Absolutely killed it.”

Lena bounced on her toes. “Everyone was crying! Did you see? Even some of the professors!”

Then Lucia was there, pulling Ria into her arms. “Oh my baby. My beautiful, talented, courageous baby.”

Ria buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and let herself cry. All the tension, all the fear, all the vulnerability of sharing her story with strangers poured out in wracking sobs.

“I’m so scared.” Ria whispered. “I said too much. I was too honest. What if people think I’m weak?”

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