Chapter 3: New Alicia

Three Years Later

It’s hard to believe how much my life has changed. Looking in the mirror today, I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me—confident, poised, and strong. The Alicia who used to cry herself to sleep, broken by betrayal and heartbreak, is a distant memory. In her place stands someone who took that pain and used it to build something powerful.

Starting my beauty and wellness brand felt like a crazy dream at the time, but I knew deep down that there were other women like me—women who had been overlooked, dismissed, and made to feel invisible. We needed something that spoke directly to us. I poured my heart into every product, not just to help women look good, but to remind them that they could take back their power, dignity, and self-worth.

Now, my name is everywhere. Alicia Jameson—the CEO, the entrepreneur, the woman who refused to fade into the background. Magazine covers, TV interviews, business panels—I’ve found my place in the spotlight I once feared. It’s almost funny how the same people who used to ignore me now try to get in my orbit.

As I step into my office—sleek, minimalist, with gold accents and a view of the bustling city below—I feel a rush of pride. The long hours, the tears, the struggles—it was all worth it. Clara, my assistant, greets me with a smile, holding a clipboard.

“Good morning, Ms. Jameson. Your meeting with the marketing team is in ten minutes. Also, Empower Her Weekly wants to feature you as the 'woman behind the brand.'”

I laugh. “The ‘woman behind the brand’? Sure, let’s schedule that for next month. Right now, I need the team focused on the product launch.”

Clara nods and jots down the details, then leaves me alone for a moment. I gaze out the window at the city—so full of life. It's a reminder of just how far I've come.

On my desk is a framed photo of the most important person in my life—my son, Caleb. His smile is my constant reminder of why I keep pushing forward. Every choice I made, every sacrifice, was for him. I want him to grow up knowing he’s more than enough, just the way he is.

I touch the photo, a small smile tugging at my lips. He’s growing so fast. His eyes, full of wonder, remind me of the promise I made to myself three years ago: to never let anyone make me feel small again. For him. For me.

A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. It’s Clara again. “Alicia, the team’s ready for you.”

I straighten my blazer. Time to get to work.

As the sun sets, painting the city in a golden glow, I finish my meeting with the marketing team. The product launch is shaping up to be huge, and I won’t leave anything to chance. Just as I lean back in my chair, feeling satisfied, my desk phone buzzes.

“Ms. Jameson, Harris Wilton is on the line. He’d like a moment to speak with you.”

I roll my eyes. Harris Wilton—the billionaire investor who’s made countless “business proposals” that always seem to come with a side of personal interest. I’m not interested.

“Put him through,” I say, keeping my voice calm.

“Alicia,” Harris’s smooth voice fills the room.

“I won’t take up much of your time. I’d love to take you to dinner tonight. There’s a new place downtown—exclusive, quiet, perfect for discussing a potential collaboration.”

I resist the urge to sigh. Mixing business with Harris’s advances is a mistake I’m not willing to make.

“I appreciate the invitation, Harris, but my schedule’s full,” I reply coolly. “Perhaps another time.”

He pushes, his tone all charm. “Come on, Alicia. You can make room for me.”

“Unfortunately, no,” I say firmly. “I’ll have Clara reach out to find a better time to discuss business. Good evening, Harris.” I hang up without waiting for a response.

Clara appears again, a knowing smile on her face. “Alicia, Mr. Colton Winter sent flowers and a note, asking if you’d be available for dinner tonight.”

I laugh softly. Colton Winter, the tech mogul, has been trying to woo me for months. His grand gestures are flattering, but I see through them. He wants someone who can match his status, not someone who truly understands him.

“Send him a polite decline, Clara,” I say. “And no more dinner invitations for tonight. I have other plans.”

“Of course,” Clara says, smiling as she leaves.

I glance at the photo of Caleb on my desk again. The world may see me as a powerhouse CEO, but at the heart of everything I do is my son. I promised myself I’d never let success come at the expense of our bond. Tonight, I’m not Alicia Jameson, the business mogul; I’m simply Caleb’s mom.

By the time I get to my penthouse, the city is aglow with lights. I open the door to the sound of giggles and little feet rushing toward me. Caleb bursts into my arms, his face lighting up with pure joy.

“Mommy!” he squeals.

“There’s my big boy!” I say, lifting him up and burying my face in his soft curls. In that moment, all the stress and struggles of my day fade away.

“Beth,” I call to our housekeeper, “Could you make pancakes for Caleb?”

“Right away, Ms. Jameson,” Beth replies with a smile.

“Pancakes!” Caleb cheers, clapping his hands. His excitement is infectious, and I can’t help but laugh.

We spend the next hour building a fort out of cushions and blankets while Beth prepares pancakes. Soon, the sweet scent fills the room, and Beth brings in a tray of golden, fluffy pancakes.

“Dinner is served,” she says, setting it down on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Beth,” I say, as I settle Caleb onto the couch.

Caleb digs in with enthusiasm, syrup dripping from his fingers, and I can’t help but smile.

After dinner, we retreat to our fort, where I read Caleb’s favorite bedtime story. His little body curls up against me as I speak softly, and soon he drifts off to sleep, his breathing peaceful and steady.

I lean back against the pillows, enjoying the rare quiet of the night, but just as I’m about to relax, my phone vibrates on the nightstand.

I pick it up, expecting nothing urgent, but when I see Lia’s name on the screen.

I answer cautiously. “Lia?”

“Hey, Ali,” she says, her voice tense. “I have to tell you something. I just spoke to mmm—”

“Just say it, Lia,” I cut in, already bracing for the worst.

“It’s Ford,” she whispers. “He wants to reconnect with you. He… he wants to talk.”

The words hit me like a punch. How dare he? After everything he did to me, to Caleb, to our family—he thinks he can just walk back into my life as if nothing happened?