Chapter 239
ASHLEY
I log into my account under the name Noxx and sit back in the leather chair, watching my profile pop open on the screen.
My office is quiet, save for the distant hum of the building’s air system and the occasional echo of footsteps down the hallway. Morning light pours through the glass wall behind my desk, painting long, pale lines across the polished floor.
For the first time since morning, I allow myself a small, satisfied smile. It feels good to be back in my account as the owner, not a viewer. A sigh of relief escapes me as the account dashboard shows no new posts have been made since the last time.
Everything is still there. Every design file, every discarded post in my draft, every internal message thread tied to the project. Nova hasn’t touched anything since yesterday.
Good. I open the security settings.
Dean’s hacker is an eccentric guy who looks like he hasn’t slept in three years. The scruffy guy spent two hours explaining the lock system he built for me. It isn’t just a password change. The authentication now runs through biometric confirmation paired with a rotating encryption key tied to my device.
In simple terms? Even someone like Nova Simmons will hit a wall.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I enter the new password. For a moment, I picture her face when she tries to log in later. The thought almost makes me laugh.
Nova prides herself on slipping through locked doors like smoke through cracks. Watching her realize she’s been locked out of something she once controlled... that’s going to sting. It’ll be epic if I could see her in that exact moment.
I confirm the change. The system processes it, then flashes the message: Security update successful.
And just like that, Noxx belongs entirely to me again. I lean back in my chair, folding my arms behind my head.
"Good luck with that, Nova," I murmur under my breath.
My phone buzzes on the desk. Matteo’s reminder that the talent briefing is about to hold at conference room B. Right. I guess it’s showtime. I shut down my laptop and make a beeline for the conference room.
As I walk in, I notice that it is already buzzing with conversation. Matteo stands at the head of the long table, speaking to the new hires gathered around it. Tablets, sketchbooks, and coffee cups are scattered across the surface. He notices me immediately and lifts his chin in greeting.
"Perfect timing," he chimes. "We’re just getting started."
I take a seat beside him, nodding to the group. The turn to equally acknowledge the designers, fabric specialists, two stylists and the digital concept artist.
Matteo taps the screen behind him, bringing up the first slide of the presentation.
"As most of you already know, this project is unlike anything we’ve attempted before. The scale and visibility are bigger. The reach is wider. Which means the expectations are astronomically higher too."
He launches into the detailed briefing, segueing from strict timelines and concept phases to creative direction. I half-listen while letting my gaze drift across the room. Bright eyes are latched onto him. Eager fingers are scribbling away at their notes, tapping on their tablets. I can almost see the steam curling out of their ears as they gobble up everything he’s saying.
Then my gaze falls on her.
Nova sits two seats from the far end of the table, legs crossed neatly, her tablet resting against her knee. Her expression is composed, but her eyes are sharp and alert like her counterparts, taking in every detail Matteo mentions.
Even when she’s doing nothing, she looks like she’s calculating something. I glance away quickly before she catches me staring. The last thing I need is for her to wonder why I keep looking at her or even for her to connect the dots between that and the surprise waiting for her the next time she attempts to log into Noxx’s account.
I fixate on Matteo as he continues.
"This is a collaborative environment, not a competition. Each of you was cherry-picked for this because you bring something fresh and unique to the table. We want your ideas to create magic. We want your input to make this a success. I don’t care how crazy you think they are." He stabs a finger in my direction. "This guy’s face is everywhere because he was crazy enough to shun the world and share his amazing designs in spite of people’s opinions. Do you know how difficult it is to carve a name for yourself when you come from a powerful family like his? But he did it because he was crazy enough to believe in himself."
He pauses as applauds erupt and persevere for a whole minute. Slightly weirded out by the spotlight, I bow in appreciation and urge Matteo to go on.
"Essentially, what I am saying is that we need you fully focused on this project. We need your ideas, especially the crazy ones. If they align with the project’s vision, we will consider it."
He gestures toward me. I lean forward and clear my throat.
"What Matteo means is that we didn’t hire any of you just to follow instructions. We hired you because you’re good at what you do."
A few of them nod their heads a little too enthusiastically.
"If you see a direction worth exploring, speak up. Some of the best ideas come from the people who aren’t afraid to challenge the original plan."
My gaze flickers briefly toward Nova again. She’s watching me now with bland, expressionless eyes that seem to bore a hole through my soul. Does she even realize how unsettling her stare can be?
I continue. "But there’s something else we need to make very clear. This project is confidential."
On my cue, Matteo’s assistant slides a stack of NDA agreements across the table.
"What those documents basically require is your discretion and cooperation. We won’t tolerate anyone leaking details of this project online without approval first sought and obtained. That means no sketches on Instagram, no behind-the-scenes posts, no interviews with the press about fabrics, concepts, prototypes...none of it."
A few people exchange amused glances.
"I know it’s tempting," I add, "but until we launch publicly, this stays inside this room and only between the people in here at this moment."
The documents begin circulating around the table. Pens start moving. Most of the newbies start signing without requiring further conviction while two skim through the document. I am not surprised to see Nova reading the fine print.
Leaving Matteo to handle the paperwork, I step out as my part was done. I draw in a lungful of air in the cool hallway before wandering down to stretch my legs. A familiar side profile catches my attention through the glass walls of another meeting room.
I slow my steps. Inside the room, Nicci sits at the far end of the table with three other models. The coordinator at the front is probably explaining the concept for the runway segment tied to the project; movement styles, posture expectations, rehearsal schedules.
But something feels off about Nicci. I’ve known her long enough to recognize the tiny details she thinks nobody notices. She holds her shoulders just a little too stiff. Her fingers keep brushing against the edge of the table like she needs something to anchor herself.
Nicci never used to look intimidated in rooms like this, even around models noticeably younger than her or newer to the game. She used to own them.
Now she looks... uncomfortable and oddly cautious, almost like she’s waiting for someone to point out her worst fears. The meeting wraps up about fifteen minutes later. I didn’t even realize I had been watching them for that long.
The younger models immediately cluster together near the door, laughing about something on one of their phones. Nicci lingers behind, packing her personal items into her bag. For a moment, she glances toward them with defeat, then dips her eyes before they notice her. When she approaches the door, they all part like the red sea, and mumble right after.
The second she steps out, our eyes meet. Mine brims with concern. A million questions float in my head and flash in my eyes so clearly, I’m sure she knows exactly what I want to know. But without a word, she walks right past me.
That stops me cold.
"Nicci." She simply keeps walking despite my calls, despite me hurrying after her.
"Nicci, hold on."
She sighs quietly and stops near the corner of the corridor. When she turns around, her expression is already tired.
"What?" She drawls.
"What was that? You’re just going to ignore me now?"
Her eyes flick briefly toward the hallway behind me. What does she care if anyone is watching or listening?
"Lower your voice," she replies, eyes still darting around.
"Why?"
"Because the last thing I need today is a scene."
I frown. "What are you talking about? Why would we be creating a scene. Everyone here knows our past..."
"Exactly!" She cuts me off. "Everyone knows about us and our past relationship. They’re convinced my successful career was the result of having your influence." Her voice wavers with emotion. "They won’t say it but they think I’m a joke, Ashley."
The tears shimmering in her eyes breaks my heart.
"What? Did someone say something in there?" I clench my fist. "Talk to me, Nicci."
She folds her arms, leaning lightly against the wall. "They don’t have to. I see it in the subtle looks they give me and how dismissive they are of my opinions. They think I’m a washed-up model who only got into this project because I used to sleep with the boss."
Anger sparks instantly in my chest. "Who said that?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
My voice sharpens. "I want names."
Nicci shakes her head quickly. "Stop."
"I’m not letting people..."
"You marching in there and defending me will make it worse. Don’t you get it?" Her eyes hold mine steadily. "If you start fighting my battles, everyone will think we’re still hooking up."
The words sting more than they should. "They already think that anyway."
"Exactly." She pushes herself away from the wall. "I need this job, Ashley. I need people to look at me and see a model who earned her spot here, not someone who slept her way into and through it." Her hands tighten slightly around the strap of her bag.
"You didn’t sleep through anything. We were in love and we supported each other as a couple."
"That may be our truth but that’s not what the world believes." She turns to the hallway as it hums faintly with distant chatter. "I don’t want you worrying about me. I don’t need you to babysit me either. I’ll prove them wrong." Her eyes flash coldly with the promise.
"I’ll work harder than anyone else here if I have to. I’ll leave such a big mark they’ll look stupid questioning my talent ever again."
Warmth fills my chest at her words, her determination. Nicci has always been many things—stubborn, reckless, dramatic—but lazy has never been one of them. Even while we were dating or hooking up, it wasn’t always a walk in the park to get me to do her bidding. She always had a natural knack for putting in the work to get whatever she wanted.
"In the meantime," she adds while dabbing her eyes, "it might help if you kept things... professional."
"I already do."
"You know what I mean." Her gaze softens slightly. "No favors. No special attention or treatment."
"Fine, I won’t barge into your coordinator’s office and query her for being rude to you or pull the other models off the project with a text."
She laughs, a genuine one in a long while. "And maybe... if you were in a relationship that clearly proved you had moved on..."
I raise an eyebrow. "Nicci, don’t start."
"I’m just saying. Single Ashley and desperate Nicola will give the tabloids a field day much more than happily coupled up Ashley and working Nicci. People might just believe my hard work played their part in me being here, especially now."
I let out a small laugh. "Nicci, my reputation as a womanizer isn’t exactly subtle. Even if I started dating someone tomorrow, people would assume I’m cheating on her with you as long as we still work together. We were notorious for that, remember?"
Her lips twitch faintly. "You’re probably right." Then her expression grows serious again. "Fine but promise me you won’t let that stop you."
"Stop me from what?"
"If you meet someone you actually like... don’t hesitate, Ash. I’m not letting my bad past or people’s ugly judgment stop me from reaching for the stars even if I am working in my ex-boyfriend’s company. I’m going to get back to A-list stardom and I won’t stop until my name alone make headlines without yours being snuck in."
Her words catch me off guard. "You deserve a healthy relationship. You’ve never had one and yet, that’s all you ever pined for. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one for you but I know true love exists out there with your name on it."
I stare at her. "Wow, Nicci, that’s not something I expected to hear from you."
"Well, I’ve had time to think lately." Her gaze drifts dreamily towards the end of the hall. "As much as our love ran deep, we were toxic for each other, Ashley. Our obsession with each other made us do stupid things. The totally avoidable arguments, impulsive decisions, reckless moments neither of us wanted to admit were mistakes to name a few. We hurt a lot of people along the way, especially our own families."
She looks back at me. "I don’t want that to be our story forever." Her voice wavers slightly. "It’s time to end that Chapter...for good"
Something tightens in my chest, even though we had broken up ages ago.
"This is goodbye, then?"
She shakes her head softly. "Yes, but to the romantic version of us. We’ll still work together but that’s all we’ll ever be; business partners."
For a second, I almost argue but the truth is... she’s right. We’ve been done for a long time. What we kept doing after that wasn’t love; it was a bad habit. This is the best way to move forward with out separate lives.
Nicci steps back. "I should go. Take care of yourself, Ashley."
Then she turns and walks down the corridor. I watch her until she disappears around the corner. A strange heaviness settles in my chest. At the same time, something else rises beneath it; relief.
I feel like a rope that’s been tied around my ribs for years has finally been cut loose. The memories we built together—good and bad—float through my mind one last time, especially our early years as a power couple, the nights we stayed up planning campaigns and photoshoots, and even the chaos we caused each other when things fell apart.
Gradually, I let it all go. I exhale slowly and turn back toward the office only to stop abruptly to avoid bumping head-first into someone who was standing right behind me.
Nova Simmons.
Her dark eyes lock onto mine without fear or embarrassment. She’s clearly been standing there long enough to hear at least part of that conversation, and judging by the faint curve of her mouth, she knows exactly what she just witnessed.
"Nova." I breathe.
She angles her head. "I think you mean Noxx."