Hey! I know that I have been really absentee lately but life and school have begun to take a toll and I am posting this to get a scope of who is reading and if this will be a one shot or a chapter-by-chapter fic. I don't know how many have fallen off the wagon lol but this will help me to find out. Please enjoy, read and review!

-NWJ

My name is Daniel Meade and...my father hates me. There is no better way to describe the disdain that he holds me in or the scowl that becomes his face anytime his presence intertwines with mine. Quite simply...He hates me; not that I can blame him. As the oldest, I can understand his expectation of me to be exactly what I am not; abstractly conformed to a business suit and an office. However, I do not wish to be his protegee or his mini Alex...

Sometimes I feel like he would love me more if I died in a skiing accident too.

Alex was the best at what he did, and dad loved him for it. He was supposed to love me for it; being the oldest, but I never had any interest in tying the affection of my father with the witless achievements of a tie and a desk. I abdicated the favorite son throne and Alex, as the youngest...happily took my place. Dad gave him Hudson and within a few months I was the throwaway. I was the sigh at the dinner table on Thanksgiving. The groan at a family get-together.

The Mistake.

But of course, it's not Alex's fault. He couldn't help the fact that Dad's value of his own flesh and blood lies in their public achievements. Quite frankly, over the years, my value of my father's opinion has also diminished into the miniscule absence of an overdue lecture. In other words;

I don't give a damn.

And why should I, I am the luckiest man on the face of this Earth and no one can take that from me, no matter how hard they try. Because I'm in love with Wilhelmina Slater

And that is all that matters.

X

My name is Wilhelmina Slater and on a daily basis, I live a lie. Day in and day out I am this fanged, oozing monster with heels and I am at the beck and call of THE boogeyman herself. Fey Sommers. I become this person when I get off of that elevator; when I round that orange doughnut I am not my own...I'm not me. On the sidewalk, I'll even say good morning to the hotdog vendor around the corner but the minute I get inside Meade, my face contorts at the sight of the special boy in the mail room.

I feel like I'm suffocating, forced to wear the tight stilettos of someone who wants me to be them, that wants me to inherit their legacy. I don't want the mantle; but I do want the glory. I'm not going to lie and say that the words Editor-In-Chief don't leave me salivating; that they don't ignite the drive in me to mow down whoever gets in my way but the things that I will go through to get there...The secrets that I will keep; that I have...They can destroy me.

Like the fact that my boss is screwing the man who is practically my father-in-law. Of course, you can say that we are not married but I've been with Daniel long enough to be considered as such...And I know this much about his father's personal life. Every time Bradford sees me I can practically see the nod of his eyes as if each time we encounter one another we have to affirm the others' secret. I keep his affair private.

And in 6 months Fey Sommers abdicates the throne at Mode in favor of her protegee.

But Daniel doesn't know this and he can't know. He doesn't know this side of me, the ruthlessness that invades my body when I want something...Sure he saw it when we first started; when I kicked his ass into shape after Fey enlisted me to help her do Bradford a favor. She thought that he was getting distracted by his favorite screw-up and Fey came up with the idea to reel him in using her supermodel assistant to put Bradford at ease. Little did she know; sending me out to scare Daniel Meade onto the straight and narrow would end up with him and I...doing the straight and narrow.

But of course he doesn't know this...Because I love him too much...I...I have to protect him from me...I have to protect him from who I am; from this fanged, oozing monster.

Not to mention the fact that I know that Alex...Is now Alexis.

X

My name is Claire Meade and I am an alcoholic...Does this make you feel better? My admittance that I have a problem or do I need to walk in front of a camera and expel my dirty laundry to the world? Everyone seems to want me to admit my issue and fix it yet no one seems to be the least bit concerned over how this issue came about. Or what exactly pushed me to find that a bottle to the lips could be synonymous with a warm blanket during a blizzard or an umbrella during a storm. No one told me that my superhero could my kryptonite.

When I drink, the world stops...literally...The world stops and Alex is alive...The world stops and my husband stops screwing the Editor-In-Chief of his flagship magazine and my son...my son finally leaves that boil of a person and moves on with his life. But that never happens...And it will never happen so if for one second, one goddamn second I can bring my children closer to me and resurrect my marriage then goddammit, that's exactly what I will do. And you nor the press nor my family has any ounce of righteousness to judge me because there is not a person on the face of this Earth who cam tell me that they wouldn't give their life for their children...So if I'm killing myself; so be it. My impact on this world seems to have come and gone anyway.

So what's the big deal if I kill Fey Sommers.

X

The color of the day? Black, as the fashion world mourns the monumental loss of the fashion mogul Fey Sommers. Sommers perished earlier this week to a fiery car crash; the apparent resultant of a brake malfunction. As the investigation continues, thousands gather to mourn the legend; the icon. Fey Elizabeth Sommers: Editor-In-Chief of Mode Magazine, flagship publications of the international cooperation; Meade Publications.

If you look closely, you can see the mourners prepare to filter in through the gates of the graveyard; awaiting the drive by of the coffin before the body of Fey Sommers' is placed in an underground crypt that, according to insiders, has been specified by the head of Meade, Grandpa Bradford, to be locked and encased as to protect Fey's remains.

Speaking of such, there goes Bradford now. He is entering alone, sans Eau Claire amidst the rumors of her admittance into the Byron Bay clinic for her penchant for using a whiskey mouthwash.

Oh, and right behind him is a black limo; presumably the Meade mistake?

She feels him, his sympathy and his yearn to say something that would take that damned look off of her face. He searches for something that would make this day even the slightest bit easier for her but nothing comes to mind. The only thing that he can find himself to do is maintain the rhythmic motions on her back as she stares ahead, eyes never falling from the windshield. Feeling the vehicle halt beneath him, he takes his hand away and adjusts his tie, still concerned for her mental state.

Almost in a trance, he had only seen her so stoic on single digit occasions; not many. Today he would be adding another day to the list, seeing that she didn't even seem to flinch when the limo stopped. Without warning, she churned her head lightly; Her hand unconsciously reaching for her stomach as her breathing returned to a static level and her eyes diverted to the passing mourners as they passed by the car; craning their necks nosily as they entered the graveyard in an attempt to get a peak at who was inside.

HE could tell that she felt sick as she took a breath, but he couldn't understand why. She had no reason to be nervous seeing how she was not even on the program to speak and even if she was he was sure that she wouldn't have a problem with that because she was an excellent public speaker and impeccable with handling the press.

So why did she look like she was hiding something?

"Look, Wils...I know that this might be hard for you. She was your mentor and you two were close...She was probably like a mother to you." His hand rested on her knee and she covered his silently, looking down at their connection. "And today I am here for you; whatever you need...Fey Sommers was a...a different...woman...but I'm sure that despite the daily spats that you too shared, you also had a strong bond." She nodded before covering her eyes with her free hand, her shoulders convulsing as she took short gasps and he slid closer to her. "Willie it's okay, it's okay to-"

"Laugh?" Sh questioned, taking her hand away as she tried to suppress the chuckle that urged in her throat. He furrowed his brows; confused by her actions. She shrugged, smoothing out her shirt with a chuckle. "Fey Sommers...was the bane of my existence...Yes she was like a mother to me but she..." Her voice slowed as did her actions as her fingers pinched at the fabric of her dress; grooming herself in distraction of looking him in his eyes. She couldn't tell him just what Fey Sommers had created. She rose her head to look at him with a sad smile, her hand reaching out to thumb the gruff hair on his face. "I will be fine; don't worry about me, you should be worried about your father."

"Why would I need to be worried about my father?"

Her eyes widened with the slightest fraction and he took note but ignored it as she turned up her red lips, shrugging once again as her mind conjured up an excuse. "Well he just lost the Editor-In-chief of his largest Publication, I would assume that they had grown close over the years."

He nodded. "And even if they didn't, my father will most likely be hard pressed to find someone that can do what the late great Fey Sommers can do."

Wilhelmina agreed sheepishly with a widening of her mouth that she really couldn't classify as a smile because there was nothing joyous about her lying to the love of her life. There was nothing exciting about her deceiving the one person in the world that she knew to love her without a shadow of doubt.

This was not fun for her.

But she had to convince herself that it would all be worth it in the end. She had to make herself believe that when the dust settles, he will still be there with her. She had to convince herself that everything that she was doing was the wrong thing for the right reason; that she was justified. That day, she had to take the unwanted legacy; carry the dangerous mantle.

Be her faux mother's daughter.

"You ready?" She nodded and he exited the limo behind her, opening the door slowly before stepping out. Within seconds, he couldn't have hesitated before the swarm of paparazzi gathered outside the fences of the graveside, poking their mikes into the car as Daniel moved in front of the door opening, blocking their entrance. He looked back and saw his father standing at the gate and he could almost feel the disappointment penetrate his eyes over the fact that the press weren't even concerned with him, it was his lover.

With a sigh, she reached for his hand passed the mikes' and intrusions as he enabled her to move speedily, avoiding any accidents when his hand reached around her waist and pulled her forward, holding her close as they pointed mikes in their direction; speculating over who the job would go to, what were Fey's final words, who did she see last. Daniel led her through, spewing no comment at every bi-line seeking journalist that got in his face until making it to the gate. Bradford held the metal bars open for them, greeting Wilhelmina with a kiss on the cheek and that damned stare before giving his son a weak handshake and side-glare.

Daniel rolled his eyes at his father with a scoff before stuffing his hands in his pockets. He felt her come up behind him, slipping her arm into the bend of his elbow; swatting his hand behind his back as she whispered. "Take your hands out of your pockets, you don't want to look defensive after seeing your father at a funeral that has nothing to do with you." HE looked down at her and she nodded. "You'll look like you have a big ego." She gave him a smile and he chuckled sweetly at her because he knew that she knew that he was anything but an egocentric person. But she was looking out for his best interest and he knew it, tilting her chin up to meet her lips briefly before she leaned her head into his shoulder; their steps advancing towards the crypt.

"This is going to be a long day." He whispered and she nodded against him before mumbling.

"You have no idea."

X

"Can I say something?"

They had endured endless false testimonies of the greatness that was Fey Sommers' as people attempted to kiss the ring that was the deceased to rinse their public image of any malice for the deceased. They were close to being done; every Mode employee and countless fashionistas about to finish dabbing the dry mascara below their eyelashes. Things were wrapping up and closure was given to the non-existent family of Fey Sommers' as, instead of blood relatives, Bradford, Wilhelmina and Daniel took the front row. The end was nearing, well that was the case until Bradford stood up, taking the podium from the unexpected clergyman who stepped aside.

Bradford gripped the podium, looking out into the crowd to see people that he had seen millions of times but could not distinguish them from Adam. Why the hell would he give the job of his lover to a total stranger; to abuse her legacy as they wished. Speaking of legacy, his was lost on him since Alex was gone...Alex took his legacy with him the second he flat lined and now when he died, he was going to be just like Fey. His sand prints were about to be erased by the sea, as if he were never there...IF he died Meade would no longer be a family business...IT would be a financial deal that would live onto profit his great great great great great grandchildren.

But that's not what he wanted.

"Fey Sommers was a...peculiar woman..." He looked down at his tie briefly, fiddling his fingers against the wood. "And an...excellent...Editor-In-Chief...She strived for excellence in every issue and achieved excellence in every issue. She had a loyal staff, especially her long time protegee Wilhelmina Slater." He looked over and Wilhelmina nodded, as Daniel gripped her hand, not knowing what emotional state she would be in or if she would start laughing right then. "They made a great team...Which is why I am quite certain that she will do the same with my eldest son Daniel Pratt Meade as he succeeds her mentor as the new Editor-In-Chief of Mode Magazine...I'm sure that they will make a great team as well."

Wilhelmina could help the gasp that left her mouth and she looked to Daniel, his mouth agape and she finally showed one sign of mourning as a tear rolled down her cheek and onto her coat and she realized that she was not getting the legacy, but just the mantle...The mantle of not having it all...of sacrifices that were not wanted. She wouldn't be able to have it all.

When she looked at him and now felt the ruthlessness rise; the ruthlessness when she wants something, when she realizes that something was going to have to give.

And the secrets would indeed destroy her.

X

Yes, many unanswered questions, perhaps a click of that review button will help you to seek the answers hahahaha jk, hope you enjoyed!