Chapter 32
Corine
It had been three days since the headlines flooded every fashion and entertainment outlet. My name—Corine Holts—was back on every screen. It was strange. I thought I’d feel overwhelmed or scared when I saw my face on a magazine again, but all I felt was a quiet sense of power. I had survived. And now, I was living.
Brittany texted me that morning: "Meet me at Evermore Park. I want to see you and the little ones before I fly back."
It was a bright Saturday. Kyle tugged on my hand as we made our way through the park entrance. Astrid, now just over a year, giggled softly in her stroller, kicking her chubby legs as if she knew something joyful was about to happen.
When I spotted Brittany sitting on the picnic bench, sunglasses perched on her nose and a soft smile playing on her lips, I felt my heart lighten. She stood and opened her arms. I hugged her tightly.
"God, you look like the Corine I met before the bell," she whispered into my ear.
I laughed softly, pulling away. "I feel like her again. Maybe stronger."
Kyle ran up to her, eyes shining. "Aunt Britt! Look at my dinosaur!"
"Woah! That is the coolest T-Rex I’ve ever seen," Brittany said, crouching to high-five him. "You’re growing up way too fast."
We sat under a large oak tree, Kyle sprawled out on the grass with his toy while Astrid dozed off in the stroller. The wind danced through the trees, and for once, it felt like the world had paused just for us.
"So," I said, nudging her gently, "tell me about this modeling gig."
Brittany sighed and grinned. "Ugh, can you believe it? My first runway walk since recovery. Dad said I had to do something with my life, especially with his campaign coming up."
"Classic Denis Ashford. Always about the image," I teased, but my voice was soft.
"Yeah," she shrugged. "But I don’t mind. Modeling’s always been something I enjoyed before it turned toxic. This time... I’m going into it on my own terms. No starving. No pretending. Just me."
I reached over and squeezed her hand. "I’m proud of you."
"I’m proud of you," she shot back. "You’re back in the headlines, Corine. New York Fashion Week wants you, for crying out loud."
I shook my head. "I didn’t expect it to happen so fast. My agent said the paparazzi photos from the park were like wildfire. People are saying I look happier. Healthier."
"Because you are," Brittany said.
"Still scared, though," I admitted. "Scared of how fast this world moves. What if I spiral again? What if... I can’t handle it?"
Brittany leaned closer, her tone firm but gentle. "Then you lean on us. Me. Sylvia. Tate. We're your net now. You won’t fall alone again."
A lump formed in my throat. "Thanks."
We sat in silence for a moment before I glanced at her. "So your dad's running again, huh?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he is. Wants to 'restore the Ashford name' as if my breakdown and scars somehow smeared his title."
"And your brother? Jasper, right? He involved too?"
She nodded, plucking a blade of grass. "Big time. He’s the CEO now. Ashford Oils and Furniture Limited. Runs the company and dad’s campaign. The man never sleeps."
I blinked. That explained the polished look. The sharp jawline. That aura of command he carried when I first met him.
"Is he always that intense?" I asked casually.
Brittany smirked. "Yes. But he has a soft side. Hard to see at first. He’s... complicated."
"Sounds like someone I used to know," I muttered, thinking of Allen Woods.
Kyle ran over then, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. "Mommy! Aunt Britt says she used to play model when she was little. Can we do that?"
Brittany laughed, pulling off her sunglasses. "Sure, baby. Let’s walk the invisible runway."
They took turns strutting down a made-up path, Kyle stomping dramatically while Brittany gave him instructions like a runway coach. I watched them, laughter bubbling from my chest as if it had been hiding there all year, waiting for this moment.
Astrid woke up, blinking sleepily. I scooped her into my lap and kissed her cheeks. "Look at your brother being a star."
Brittany walked back over, a little breathless but smiling. "God, I needed this. You have no idea."
"I think I do," I whispered.
She looked at me for a long second. "You’re really okay now, huh?"
"I think I’m getting there."
We both turned to watch Kyle pretending to pose dramatically. The sun caught the golden in his hair, and for a moment, he looked just like Allen.
I didn’t flinch this time.
And maybe that was the sign I needed. I was healing.
We spent another hour there, just being. No flashbacks. No intrusive thoughts. Just sunshine, laughter, and old friends making new memories.
Before she left, Brittany leaned over and kissed my forehead. "I’ll see you in New York, Holts. We’re going to own that runway."
"Damn right we will."
And as she walked away, I held my children close and felt something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Hope.