Chapter Text
The late afternoon light shone through the dining room window as Caroline and Cassidy made final adjustments with their hushed and excited movements. Their phones, ready to record, were cleverly hidden amongst the plates and silverware on the table, waiting like secret eyes. They whispered to each other, their breath catching with anticipation.
"Check the angle," Caroline breathed, her gaze fixed on her screen. "Can you see the doorway clearly?"
Cassidy adjusted her phone within the centerpiece, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Yep, wide shot. Audio's good too. Just scoot the napkin holder."
"This is either going to be legendary," Caroline breathed, her voice tight with mild nervousness, "or we're grounded until college. Maybe even until we get married."
"Relax," Cassidy chuckled softly, checking her phone behind the flowers. "She'll laugh. Eventually. Now, move the bread basket a little to your right... perfect. I’ll start recording."
Not even a beat later, they heard the sound of keys jingling in the lock of the front door. It sent them scrambling, kicking into their practiced choreography. Cassidy feigned a casual trip to the fridge, while Caroline theatrically wrestled the hot dish from the oven, their outward normalcy a stark contrast to the mischievous plot unfolding.
The front door clicked shut, and Miranda Priestly entered the hallway, her purse the only item in her hands. "Hello, darlings," she called out. She then proceeded into the kitchen, stopping just beyond the doorway, which placed her directly in the view of Cassidy's carefully positioned phone on the dining table. The angle was, quite unintentionally, ideal.
"Hey, Mom. Dinner's ready," Caroline announced, peeling off her oven mitts with a practiced motion. She caught Cassidy's eye and offered a subtle nod. The silent cue.
Showtime.
Cassidy beamed at her mother, picking up the pitcher of orange juice. "True, let’s eat," she agreed sweetly, placing it on the table with deliberate care. "I'm so hungry I could eat Andy Sachs." Her voice remained light, a perfect mask for the playful intent.
The perky energy in the room abruptly evaporated, replaced by a palpable tension that settled not on the twins, but on Miranda. Her spine, which had been slightly relaxed, snapped ramrod straight. Her grip on her purse tightened, and for a fleeting moment, it looked as though the expensive leather might slip from her fingers.
"What did you just say?" Her voice, usually a precise instrument, dropped to a dangerously low register. "Did I... did I hear you correctly?"
Cassidy, maintaining an unwavering facade of innocence and stifling a giggle, repeated the seemingly harmless statement. "I said I'm so hungry I could eat Andy Sachs."
"What does that even mean ?" Miranda inquired, her voice laced with a distinct disbelief, as if she were questioning the very fabric of reality.
Cassidy, settling into her chair with an air of nonchalance, offered a seemingly reasonable explanation. "Oh, it's just a saying, Mom. You know, a figure of speech. People say it when they're really, really hungry."
"People say that?" Miranda pressed, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arching to a height that made the twins exchange a nervous glance. "Which people, exactly, are uttering such a statement?"
"It's trending content, Mom," Caroline interjected, her voice a little too bright, betraying the nervous tremor she was trying to suppress. She could feel the laughter bubbling inside her, dangerously close to the surface, and the equally strong fear of imminent parental disapproval. "People on social media say it all the time."
"People on the internet," Miranda stated, the words clipped and precise, "should not be saying that. Especially Andrea's name as if they possess some... personal familiarity." The editor's voice sharpened, each syllable carrying the weight of her authority.
A weighty silence descended upon the dining table, the air thick with the dawning realization of two daughters who had perhaps inadvertently stumbled onto the enemy’s territory. Or however the internet calls it.
Cassidy, despite the palpable shift in atmosphere, attempted to inject a note of technicality. "Well, technically," she mumbled, her gaze flickering nervously towards her mother, "they don't actually possess familiarity. But, like, the internet thinks they do. That's kind of the whole point of going viral."
Caroline, sensing the need for a distraction, busied herself with the bowls on the table. With deliberate movements, she ladled out the soup, filling each bowl in turn, the clinking of the ceramic a small counterpoint to the unspoken tension.
Miranda released a sigh, her gaze sweeping over her daughters, sharp and assessing. "You cannot simply utter Andrea's name in such a casual, offhand manner. What precisely have you two done?"
"Nothing," the twins responded in unison, their voices a fraction too quick, a shade too innocent, betraying a hint of guilt.
Miranda's eyebrow arched once more, a silent testament to her rising doubt. "That," she stated flatly, "signifies that you have done something. Or are contemplating doing something. Cease it immediately." She turned from her position near the entryway. "I should place my purse down and return for dinner."
As Miranda vanished, the twins let out a synchronized sigh, a blend of immediate release and a dawning sense of ‘oh no.’
"Well," Cassidy said, a wry smile creeping onto her face, "that went about as well as a Prada sample sale at a retirement home." As she retrieved her phone and hit stop on the recording.
Caroline grabbed her phone, her expression more serious. "She's suspicious, Cass. Really suspicious."
"Yeah, you think?" Cassidy chuckled humorlessly. "We just name-dropped her possibly long-lost lover at the dinner table like it was an optional side dish!"
Caroline shot her sister a pointed look. "Well, you're the one who actually said it!"
"Yeah, because it was funny!" Cassidy defended, her tone laced with a touch of disbelief. "In my head it was a witty little pop culture reference! Not a declaration of war!"
"I know, I know! In my defense too," Caroline added, a hand meeting her forehead in a dramatic facepalm, "I thought it was peak internet humor! Apparently, Miranda Priestly's dating history is not a meme."
"Since she’s already onto us, and we might probably be sent to a boarding school somewhere colder than New York…" Cassidy began, her eyes glued to her phone screen, her finger hovering over the upload icon.
Caroline bit her lip, a mixture of thrill and terror churning within her. "We are so going to hell."
"Maybe," Cassidy conceded. "Let’s hope viral hell has a very solid engagement rate."
A palpable buzz had taken root on the Runway floor, the whispers circulating like a virus. When Miranda appeared, gossip intensified with heads swiveling in her direction. The second assistant froze mid-task as Miranda's coat and bag landed unceremoniously on their desk. Cheska, already on edge, nearly jumped out of her stilettos. Her breath hitched as Miranda's eyes found hers.
The silent summon was unmistakable. As Cheska trailed behind her, Miranda's hand darted out, the cup of coffee clicking softly against her manicured nails as she took possession of it. "Pray tell, Cheska," she said, her voice cutting through the lingering whispers, "what delectable piece of information has so thoroughly captivated my staff this morning?"
"It's, uhm—well..." Cheska stammered, her fingers fluttering nervously as she searched for a way to articulate the undoubtedly disastrous but playful news.
"Out with it, Cheska. My schedule does not accommodate dithering," Miranda stated, her gaze resolved as she took a sharp, deliberate sip of her scaldingly hot coffee.
Visibly flustered, Cheska fumbled with her phone, her hands shaking slightly. She tapped the screen a few times. "I... I think it would be best if you just saw it," she finally managed, extending the phone towards her formidable boss, the screen displaying the now-playing video.
Miranda's fingers closed around Cheska's phone with quiet authority. The office held its breath. The only sound before the digital intrusion was the delicate click of Miranda setting down her coffee.
The TikTok played, the low resolution somehow amplifying the intimacy of the setting. The familiar dining room, bathed in soft light, appeared on the screen. Then came Cassidy's voice, bright and unsettlingly cheerful, "I'm so hungry I could eat Andy Sachs."
The ensuing silence in the video mirrored the tense quiet of the office. Then, Miranda's voice, sharp with disbelief, cut through the digital air, "What did you just say?" The brief, mortifying exchange played out, each word and tone instantly recognizable, before the video ended.
"I-It's quite viral, Miranda," Cheska stammered, avoiding eye contact. "Five million views, over a million likes. The video was posted last night from the twins' shared TikTok account. The phone hasn't stopped ringing with media requests. I haven't heard from the twins about any paparazzi at school yet."
The silence stretched, thick with unspoken implications. Finally, Miranda's voice cut through the tension, sharp and precise. "Are people under the distinct impression that I am... pining?"
Cheska flinched. "That... that is the general consensus in the comment section, Miranda. Many are expressing sympathy for your supposed longing for Andy."
The editor held her hand, making Cheska stop with whatever she was saying. Then she spoke, each word immaculate and terrifying in its calm, “Get me Andrea’s new contact number.”
She turned toward the window, her reflection in the glass composed yet simmering. As Cheska was about to walk out, Miranda spoke again, “And find out if Iceland still has boarding schools.”
Miranda’s eye twitches. She could almost hear Nigel's gleeful cackling.
Thursday dawned with its usual frantic energy for New York Times reporter Andy Sachs, but today carried an added layer of intrigue. The moment she arrived at the office, the curious glances and hushed inquiries about Miranda Priestly told her that something was definitely amiss.
Seeking refuge before her time ends at the office, Andy called Emily.
"You know," Emily said, her voice a mixture of shock and reluctant admiration, "as awful as it is, you have to admit those twins have a certain... flair for the dramatic. Pure evil genius."
Andy laughed, a genuine, heartfelt sound. "Seriously, how did you even find that video so fast?"
"Nigel, of course. He treats these things like breaking news. And yes, I too was blessed with his maniacal laughter in voicemail form, just like you and Serena." Emily's tone was laced with playful exasperation.
"Has Miranda reached out?" Emily asked, her voice softening slightly.
"Not a peep," Andy replied. "But every single news outlet seems to have my number all of a sudden."
Andy let out a long breath, the kind that deflated her from the inside out. “Okay, I should go. My inbox is a war zone and someone just emailed me asking for my skincare routine. This is officially out of hand.”
“Tell them stress and caffeine,” Emily quipped. “And maybe Miranda-induced trauma.”
Andy laughed. “Bye, Em. Talk later?”
"Only if I deem it absolutely necessary."
Andy's laughter bubbled up again. The call ended with a soft, digital beep. She placed her phone on the table, rubbing a weary finger against her temple. Reaching for her lukewarm coffee, she was halfway to taking a much needed sip when her phone began to ring once more. Without glancing at the caller ID, she instinctively tapped the accept button.
“Okay, what now, Em?” she said with a wry edge, already half-smiling.
There was a pause on the other end. Not complete silence, but a deliberate intake of breath, as if the speaker was carefully selecting their words with the utmost precision.
“Hello, Andrea.”
Andy's hand jerked, a ripple disturbing the surface of her coffee.
Her posture shifted instantly, an ingrained response to that authoritative tone. It was like a sudden drop in temperature, a familiar chill that sent a shiver down her spine despite the warm office air.
She took a breath. "...Miranda. Well, hello. Didn't realize you were making your TikTok debut."
Miranda observed dryly. "I assume you have seen the video."
"Oh, repeatedly," Andy admitted, unable to stop a small laugh from slipping through. “You should be proud. They’re naturals.”
A beat of silence hung in the air. Then, coolly, "They are grounded."
Andy let out another soft chuckle, her tone softening with a hint of amusement and understanding. "They adore you, you know. Even when they're being creatively mischievous."
"The veracity of that statement is debatable," Miranda murmured, a hint of something unreadable in her tone. "Though they appear to hold you in even higher regard."
Andy froze for a moment, her fingers tightening around her phone.
"I apologize for the... unexpected turn of events," Miranda said, her voice carrying a hint of something Andy couldn't quite place. "I can only imagine this was not how you envisioned your Thursday."
A warmth bloomed in Andy's chest. "Honestly. It's unexpected, to say the least. But hearing from you? That's a silver lining I didn't see coming."
The silence that followed felt different, less like a power play and more like a shared moment of reflection.
"Miranda?" Andy prompted gently.
"I should have been the one to reach out," Miranda admitted, her tone almost regretful. "Before my daughters decided to publicize our past."
Andy chuckled softly. "They're teenagers, Miranda. They live for this kind of chaos."
A brief pause.
Miranda sighed softly. "This call is not merely about their punishment. I felt... a personal apology to you was necessary. For the intrusion and the subsequent media frenzy."
Andy blinked, touched by the unexpected sincerity. "Miranda, truly, it's alright. I'm finding a strange sort of amusement in the whole thing."
"Nevertheless, you were placed in an uncomfortable position without your consent," Miranda insisted, a hint of her old protectiveness surfacing. "They were aware of the implications."
Andy leaned back, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Yes. They know their audience. Honestly, Miranda," Andy added, "I'm not upset, more fascinated. And yes, a little amused."
A soft sound that might have been amusement drifted through the phone.
Then, quietly, "Perhaps you would consider joining us for dinner? An opportunity to... discuss this. With the instigators. And myself."
Andy's breath caught slightly. "Dinner?"
"Not an obligation, Andrea," Miranda said quickly, a touch of her old defensiveness creeping in. "Merely an opportunity. To perhaps catch up. Or to express your displeasure directly to the perpetrators. Whichever you deem appropriate."
This time, Andy let the silence linger, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I’ll bring dessert,” she finally replied, teasing. “Unless that would be considered a threat now.”
Miranda didn’t answer. But Andy could feel the smirk through the silence before the call ended with a quiet click .
Andy glanced at her phone again, the video still playing in a loop, the twins holding their laughs in the background, Miranda’s stunned reaction forever immortalized on the internet.
She shook her head, smiling to herself as she slid her coat on and grabbed her keys.
Dinner with Miranda Priestly.
Not something she ever thought she'd walk into again so casually. And yet, here she was, actually looking forward to it.
Maybe the twins' catch for virality wasn’t a bad idea.