The shrill ring of Miranda Priestly's phone pierced the quiet of her home office. She glanced at the clock—2:17 AM. A call at this hour was never good news. With a sense of foreboding, she answered.
"Ms. Priestly?" A deep, unfamiliar voice greeted her. "This is Colonel James Hendricks, United States Marine Corps. I'm calling on behalf of Gunnery Sergeant Andrea Sachs and Corporal Vannah St. Claire."
Miranda's heart clenched. She'd been dreading this call since Andrea's deployment, though she'd never admitted it to herself. "Yes," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "What... what happened?"
The Colonel's voice was grave but compassionate. "There's been an incident. Both Gunnery Sergeant Sachs and Corporal St. Claire have been injured during a mission."
Miranda's grip on the phone tightened. "How bad?"
"Corporal St. Claire has sustained severe injuries to her right leg and face. She's undergoing surgery for a knee replacement and has received nineteen stitches across her right eye and cheek."
Miranda closed her eyes, trying to process the information. "And Andrea?"
There was a pause that seemed to stretch for eternity. "Gunnery Sergeant Sachs was caught in an explosion. She was buried under rubble for several hours before our rescue team could extract her."
The room spun. Miranda gripped the edge of her desk, willing herself to stay focused. "Is she—" She couldn't bring herself to finish the question.
"She's alive," Colonel Hendricks assured her quickly. "But her condition is critical. She's suffered multiple fractures, internal injuries, and a severe concussion. She's being prepped for emergency surgery as we speak."
Miranda's mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. "Why... why are you calling me? Surely there are others—"
"Both Gunnery Sergeant Sachs and Corporal St. Claire listed you as their civilian point of contact, Ms. Priestly. They requested that you be notified in case of any incidents."
The revelation stunned Miranda. Andrea had listed her? After everything? And Vannah—a woman she'd never even met—had done the same?
"What happens now?" Miranda asked, surprising herself with how steady her voice sounded.
"They're both being treated at our field hospital. Once they're stable, they'll be transferred to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany for further treatment. From there, depending on their condition, they'll either be moved to a stateside facility or returned to duty."
Miranda nodded, then remembered the colonel couldn't see her. "I understand. Thank you for informing me."
As she was about to hang up, a thought struck her. "Colonel Hendricks, wait. The twins—Caroline and Cassidy. They've been corresponding with Corporal St. Claire. Should I... how do I tell them?"
The colonel's voice softened. "That's a personal decision, Ms. Priestly. But in my experience, honesty is usually the best policy with children. They're often more resilient than we give them credit for."
After exchanging a few more details, Miranda ended the call. She sat in the darkness of her office, the weight of the news pressing down on her. Andrea, buried alive. Vannah, her face forever changed. The twins, about to learn a harsh lesson about the realities of war.
With a deep breath, Miranda stood. She had calls to make, arrangements to see to. Sleep was no longer an option.
First, she called Nigel. Despite the hour, he answered on the second ring.
"Miranda? What's wrong?"
In clipped tones, she relayed the situation. "I need you to take over for a few days. I'm going to Germany."
To his credit, Nigel didn't question her decision. "Of course. I'll handle everything. Just... keep me updated, okay?"
Next, she called her ex-husband. It was a tense conversation, but he agreed to come over immediately to stay with the twins.
As the first light of dawn crept through the windows, Miranda steeled herself for the hardest task yet. She climbed the stairs to her daughters' rooms, her heart heavy.
She woke them gently, gathering them both into her bed. As they blinked sleepily at her, confusion turning to concern on their young faces, Miranda took a deep breath.
"Bobbseys, I have something difficult to tell you. It's about Vannah and Andrea."
Over the next hour, Miranda explained the situation as best she could, answering their tearful questions with as much honesty as she dared. She held them as they cried, their small bodies shaking with sobs that broke her heart.
"Can we write to them?" Cassidy asked eventually, her voice muffled against Miranda's shoulder.
"Of course, darling. We'll send them both letters. And as soon as they're able, I'm sure they'll write back."
"Are they going to die?" Caroline's whisper was barely audible, but it cut through the room like a knife.
Miranda tightened her embrace. "The doctors are doing everything they can. Vannah and Andrea are both very strong. We have to believe they'll be okay."
As the girls finally drifted back to sleep, exhausted by emotion, Miranda eased herself out of bed. She had a plane to catch.
The next few days passed in a blur. Miranda called in every favor, used every connection she had to get updates on Andrea and Vannah's conditions. She arrived at Landstuhl just as they were being transferred from Afghanistan.
Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Andrea, pale and still, being wheeled past on a gurney. Her face was swollen and bruised, barely recognizable. Tubes and wires seemed to sprout from every available surface.
Vannah was conscious but groggy when Miranda visited her room. The older woman's face was a patchwork of bandages and stitches, her right leg elevated and heavily wrapped.
"Miranda Priestly," Vannah mumbled, her words slurred from pain medication. "Andy said you were somethin' else. Guess she was right."
Miranda found herself gently taking Vannah's hand. "Your daughters send their love. They're very proud of you."
Vannah's eyes filled with tears. "My girls. God, I miss them. And Andy... have you seen her? Is she okay?"
Miranda swallowed hard. "She's in surgery. The doctors are doing everything they can."
Over the next week, Miranda split her time between Andrea's bedside and Vannah's room. She fielded calls from Nigel about Runway, from her ex-husband about the twins, from Andrea and Vannah's families. She made arrangements, pulled strings, ensured they were getting the best possible care.
It was on the eighth day that Andrea finally opened her eyes. Miranda was dozing in the uncomfortable hospital chair when a weak squeeze of her hand jolted her awake.
"Andrea?" she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.
Andrea's eyes, though clouded with pain and confusion, focused on Miranda's face. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
"Shh, don't try to talk," Miranda soothed, reaching for the call button. "You're safe. You're in Germany. I'm here."
A tear slipped down Andrea's cheek as understanding dawned in her eyes. Miranda found herself gently wiping it away, her own vision blurring.
"You gave us quite a scare," Miranda said softly. "But you're going to be alright. Do you understand?"
Andrea managed a tiny nod before her eyes fluttered closed again. But she kept her grip on Miranda's hand, weak but present.
As doctors and nurses swarmed into the room, Miranda stepped back, her hand feeling strangely empty. She watched as they checked Andrea's vitals, marveling at the rush of relief that flooded through her.
Later, as she sat by Vannah's bed, relaying the news of Andrea's awakening, Miranda found herself reflecting on the strange turns life could take. A year ago, Andrea had been just another in a long line of assistants. Now, she was someone Miranda had flown across an ocean for, someone whose survival meant more to her than she cared to admit.
"You know," Vannah said, her voice stronger now, "when Andy suggested listing you as our contact, I thought she was crazy. 'The Dragon Lady?' I said. 'She'll probably be annoyed at the inconvenience.'" She fixed Miranda with a knowing look. "Guess I owe her an apology."
Miranda allowed herself a small smile. "Perhaps we've all misjudged each other."
As she prepared to return to her hotel for a few hours of much-needed rest, Miranda's phone buzzed with a text. It was a photo from the twins—a handmade card covered in glitter and heartfelt messages for Andrea and Vannah.
Looking at the photo, then at Vannah's battered but healing face, and thinking of Andrea's small but significant improvement, Miranda felt something she hadn't experienced in a long time: hope.
There would be long days ahead—surgeries, rehabilitation, nightmares both physical and emotional. But in that moment, in the quiet of the hospital room, Miranda allowed herself to believe that everything might just turn out alright.
As she left, she paused at Andrea's door, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. "Rest well, Andrea," she murmured. "There's a whole world waiting for you to rejoin it. And I... we... will be here when you're ready."
With that, Miranda stepped out into the cool German night, ready to face whatever challenges the coming days might bring. She was Miranda Priestly, after all. And now, more than ever, she had a reason to be the best version of herself.