The Heiress' Husband

Raelynn Lancaster was now a married woman.

The thought should have settled deep in her bones, changed the way the world tilted beneath her feet. But as the car cut through the darkened streets of the city, everything still looked the same. The streetlights cast their usual glow, the skyline stretched endlessly, and Nessa sat across from her, scrolling through her phone like it was just another night.

It wasn't just another night.

She turned her hand over, fingers brushing against her palm. She ran a finger over the ring finger of her left palm. It felt bare. Too bare. Hours ago, there had been a diamond ring there.

No ring. No evidence. No fanfare. Just a whispered vow, a signature on a legal document, and Raphael Cross watching her with that unreadable gaze as if he already knew what she would do before she did it.

A shiver ran down her spine.

"You're thinking about him."

Raelynn blinked, tearing her gaze away from her hand. Nessa's knowing eyes met hers, amusement curling at the edges of her lips.

"I was not," Raelynn muttered, crossing her arms.

Nessa hummed, unconvinced. "Right. That's why you've been staring at your own hand like it personally offended you."

Raelynn exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "It just… doesn't feel real yet. It hasn't sunk in."

"It will," Nessa said, tilting her head. "Sooner or later, you'll be consciously trying not to make Mrs. jokes and wondering when you started automatically signing documents with his last name."

Raelynn shot her a glare. "Not happening."

"Mm-hmm." Nessa smirked, nodding at the same pace a handshake took. "I give it two months before it slips out by accident."

Raelynn groaned.

The car slowed as they approached their destination, a private fashion show held at an exclusive venue. Unlike grand, commercial runways, this was where the real industry insiders made their choices. Deals were struck over champagne, careers were boosted with a single approving nod, and models either became legends or faded into obscurity.

Tonight, she was here as Raelynn, the model.

Not a wife. Not a Lancaster. Just her.

At least, that was the plan. As the car rolled to a stop, Nessa sighed, glancing at the security detail stationed outside.

"You know, I really don't like this whole bodyguard situation."

Raelynn arched a brow. "Why?"

"Because I was supposed to be the one driving us around, not Mr. Military up there."

Nessa huffed, jerking her chin toward the security personnel standing by the door.

"I liked driving you."

Raelynn tried to suppress a smile. "It's not personal, Ness."

"It feels personal," Nessa grumbled. "I mean, first you go off and get married in secret—"

"We're not talking about that right now."

"—and now I don't even get to be your chauffeur?"

She clutched her chest dramatically. "What's next? Are they gonna start screening me before I come into your apartment?"

Raelynn gave her a flat look. The humor she rarely showed to others, shining through. "They already do."

Nessa gasped. "Unbelievable."

The security guard opened the door, and Raelynn stepped out, straightening her posture as cameras flashed in the distance.

They weren't for her, not yet—this wasn't a public event. But in this world, eyes were always watching. And she had no intention of giving them something to see. At least, not tonight.

But then she stepped backstage, and the moment she spotted Jake waiting for her, that plan started to crumble.

"Raelynn," Jake drawled, a wide smile stretching across his face. "Looking stunning as usual."

Raelynn barely spared him a glance. "Jake."

Nessa, on the other hand, made a show of rolling her eyes. "What do you want?"

Jake clutched his chest. "Can't a man simply greet one of his star models without suspicion?"

Nessa arched a brow. "Not when that man is you."

Jake chuckled, then cleared his throat. "Listen, about the show. There's been a slight… adjustment."

Nessa's gaze sharpened. "What adjustment?"

Jake hesitated, which was never a good sign. Then he gestured behind him.

And there she was.

Stella Moreau stood a few feet away, her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk playing at her lips. Beside her, Natasha, her ever-present assistant, whispered something in her ear, making Stella's smirk widen.

Raelynn already knew what was coming.

"Stella will be closing the show tonight," Jake said, his voice carefully neutral.

Silence stretched between them.

Then, Raelynn laughed.

Nessa didn't. "Excuse me?"

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, the designer felt that the the final piece—the signature dress—needed a model who wouldn't overpower the dress. You know, someone who wouldn't distract from the craftsmanship."

Raelynn's lips parted.

It was a direct insult to Stella, because what Jake really meant, was that Raelynn's body, her presence, was too striking. That next to her, the dress itself wouldn't hold the same weight.

It was meant to be an excuse. A flimsy, excuse that ended up coated in insults.

And Stella, for all her preening, didn't even realize it.

But Raelynn did.

And so did Nessa, who let out a dramatic 'oh shittt' before turning to Stella with a slow, faux sympathetic smile. "Damn. That's rough."

Stella's smirk twitched. "What is?"

"You know." Nessa gestured vaguely. "Basically being chosen as the more forgettable option. Easilyoverpowered. Hes basically saying the dress would wear you instead of the other way round." Nessa whistled, " That's gotta sting."

Natasha immediately stepped forward, her voice sharp. "That's not what was said."

Nessa tilted her head. "Wasn't it?"

Jake coughed, stepping between them. "Let's not make this a thing. It's already been decided, Raelynn. Stella will be wearing the final piece."

Raelynn could feel the weight of everyone's gaze. The anticipation. Would she fight it? Would she cause a scene?

Old Raelynn might have.

But tonight, with the weight of an unspoken secret pressing against her skin, she chose something else.

She chose control.

Raelynn tilted her head, considering. Then, to everyone's surprise, she smiled.

"You know what?" she said lightly. "Go ahead. Wear it."

Stella blinked. "Really?"

Raelynn shrugged. "Of course. After all", she leaned in slightly, just enough for only Stella to hear, "somebody has to wear the consolation prize."

Stella stiffened.

Raelynn didn't wait for a response. She turned, walking toward her dressing area, her posture loose, easy, as if she hadn't just stripped away Stella's moment of triumph before it could even begin.

Behind her, Nessa sighed dramatically. "You're way too generous, Rae."

Raelynn smiled. "No one could ever have a heart as gracious as mine."

Let Stella have this.

Because tonight wasn't a loss.

It was just the beginning.