To the Beginning of Everything
3RD POV:
The children rushed in before formality could catch them bounding with the kind of energy only kids could have after such a long day. Amelia clung to her mother’s arm, tugging gently. “Mommy, do we get dessert first?”
“You’ll eat dinner before dessert,” Hannah responded smoothing Amelia’s hair, though her smile betrayed her exhaustion. “And don’t even try to convince Lucas otherwise.”
Lucas gasped theatrically. “Excuse me, I am the fun uncle. Dessert is a constitutional right in my house.”
Maya rolled her eyes as she followed, carrying. “Don’t rile them up. They’ll keep us here past midnight.”
They took a seat at a corner booth, one sectioned off from the main dining hall by high-backed chairs and a glass partition. The kind of place meant for privacy, though every once in a while, a curious diner would steal a glance at Hannah, as if trying to reconcile the woman in front of them with the breathtaking show they’d seen splashed across their social feeds earlier that night. 1
Hannah slid into the booth and exhaled, finally letting herself sag a little into the cushions. For hours she’d been composed, polished, untouchable. Now, under the amber glow and surrounded by the people she trusted most, she allowed her shoulders to soften.
Lucas clinked his glass of sparkling water against hers before food even arrived. “To the woman who just silenced an entire industry with chiffon and sass,” he said. “May they choke on their jealousy and never catch up.”
Hannah laughed, covering her face for a moment, as though embarrassed by his flair. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And fabulous,” he added. “But mostly right. Hannah, you killed it tonight and the evidence is there with the stares you’ve been getting all night after just one big reveal. I’ve never been prouder.”
Her assistant, Kara, still in her neat blazer despite the late hour nodded from the edge of the table. “He’s not wrong. The press is already buzzing. I’ve had four requests for interviews in the last hour alone. Even D’ Mangelo is asking if you’ll grant her a sit-down.”
Hannah’s brows arched, surprised, though she didn’t let pride spill too far across her face. “That was fast.”
“News spreads faster than fire when it’s about you,” Lucas said with a smirk, swirling his drink.
Dinner arrived slowly, course after course roasted chicken with thyme, delicate pasta draped in cream, platters of vegetables and warm bread. The children, of course, only had eyes for the fries that accompanied their meals, much to Lucas’s horror.
“You are sitting in one of the best restaurants in the city,” he said, pointing an accusing fork at Amelia, “and you’re eating fries?”
Amelia shrugged, dipping one in ketchup without guilt. “They’re good.”

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