The Heiress' Husband

Claudia Bellerose's grip tightened around the edge of her seat as the show she had spent months preparing for descended into chaos. The pulsating lights of the runway flickered as the final model, the one who was supposed to close the show, stepped onto the stage. But instead of Raelynn Grant, the model everyone had been waiting for, the audience was greeted by Stella Moreau.

The sound of shoes clicking across the runway filled the air, but it wasn't the graceful stride of Raelynn that commanded attention. It was the stiff, clumsy gait of Stella, who looked more like a deer caught in the headlights than a seasoned professional. Claudia's breath hitched. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The atmosphere shifted quickly from one of expectation to palpable confusion. The murmurs of the audience grew louder as eyes flicked from one another, each questioning the sudden change in the lineup. Every advertisement, every campaign, every social media post for the past month had featured Raelynn. She was the star of the show, the one who would embody the elegance of Claudia's collection and leave a lasting impression.

Claudia's eyes narrowed. She could feel her pulse quicken, and the tension in her chest only grew tighter. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. She had been told Raelynn was going to walk. Raelynn had confirmed it herself just days before. And yet, here was Stella, an afterthought, a model who had barely been mentioned in the run-up to the event.

"Why the hell is she out there?" Claudia hissed, her voice low but tinged with fury.

Her assistant, who had been standing nervously beside her, stammered, "I...I don't know. Jake Holloway made a last-minute change. He said Miss Grant refused to... "

Claudia didn't wait for the rest of the explanation. The name alone sent a bolt of rage through her. Jake Holloway, the elusive agent who had somehow wormed his way into the inner circle of high-profile models, had just jeopardized everything. But more importantly, he had betrayed her trust.

Claudia's mind raced, trying to reconcile the chaos unfolding before her. Stella Moreau was out there, yes, but that didn't explain why. Stella, with her somewhat awkward stage presence and lack of grace, was a far cry from Raelynn, whose movements had been rehearsed to perfection. Raelynn was supposed to be the culmination of this carefully constructed spectacle, not an afterthought.

She focused her gaze back on the runway. Her silk gown, her masterpiece, was meant to shine on Raelynn, a model whose beauty and elegance could elevate even the most simple design into something extraordinary. But Stella wasn't doing the gown any justice. In fact, she was actively diminishing it, causing Claudia's chest to tighten further with every step.

Then it happened. Stella's heel caught on the hem of the gown. A faint gasp rippled through the crowd, and before anyone could process it, a harsh, unforgiving sound rang out across the venue: Riiiiip.

A collective intake of breath from the audience punctuated the moment, and Claudia felt her stomach drop. She stared in disbelief as the intricate embroidery of her gown tore, the fabric splitting down the seam. The perfect design, which had been the centerpiece of her entire collection, was ruined in an instant.

Stella's face flushed crimson as she staggered, flailing her arms to maintain balance. The model's attempt to recover only made things worse. She tugged at the gown in a futile attempt to salvage her dignity, but the damage had been done.

The audience watched, frozen, as Stella tried—and failed, to regain her poise. With every step, the gown sagged further, the tear becoming more pronounced. The room seemed to hold its breath. Whispers rippled through the crowd. Critics glanced at one another, their pens stilled over the pages of their notebooks. The delicate silence that followed felt suffocating.

In the front row, Claudia's eyes never left the scene. She remained perfectly still, though the tightness of her jaw, the pale knuckles gripping the edge of her seat, betrayed her fury. She didn't need to look around to know that the whispers were growing louder. The fashion world, where one misstep could destroy a reputation, was already discussing her failure.

Backstage, Raelynn stood, observing the train wreck unfolding on the runway. Her arms were crossed, her face unreadable. Nessa, who stood beside her, let out a frustrated sigh.

"She managed to do what no one has ever done! She just ruined a Claudia Bellerose original," Nessa murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief and amusement.

Raelynn's eyes remained fixed on the scene before her. Her expression betrayed nothing of the emotions that swirled beneath the surface, though her silence spoke volumes. The tension that had been building between her and Jake ever since their professional relationship began now seemed to manifest in this very moment of chaos. He had pulled her from the show—without her consent—and now this disaster had unfolded as a result. Raelynn had been chosen because her frame and aura would intensify the dress' fragility into its beauty.

In the front row, Stella's nervous movements were increasingly frantic. The gown hung awkwardly from her frame, the torn fabric dragging along the floor. She attempted to salvage the walk, but it was a lost cause. Her efforts to move with the same elegance Raelynn would have brought to the runway only served to highlight her lack of experience. Where Raelynn would have embodied the gown's quiet power, Stella only highlighted its fragility.

The audience's discomfort turned into open laughter—quiet at first, but then increasingly audible. The front row's fashion elite, their eyes locked on the spectacle, were barely able to stifle their snickers. The scene was a nightmare.

By the time Stella reached the end of the runway, the damage was irreversible. She turned to face the audience, but the gown—now tattered and hanging limply—had already become the punchline of a joke that no one would soon forget.

Backstage, the tension was palpable as Jake rushed to meet Stella, his hands trembling as he grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward the safety of the dressing rooms.

"What the hell was that?!" he hissed, fury in his voice.

Stella yanked her arm away from his grip, her voice filled with indignation. "Let go of me!" she snapped, her chest heaving with the remnants of panic.

Jake didn't respond immediately, his anger turning inward. "You just ruined everything," he muttered, almost to himself.

"Oh, I ruined it?" Stella shot back, her voice biting. "You're the one who forced me into this last minute!"

Their argument was interrupted by the sharp sound of footsteps. Claudia entered the room, and the silence that followed her arrival was suffocating. Her reputation was on the line, and her presence commanded attention.

Claudia's eyes darted between the two, her gaze cold and calculating. She didn't even acknowledge Stella before her eyes locked onto Jake, the agent who had single-handedly made a mockery of her show.

"You are finished," Claudia declared flatly, her voice a razor-sharp whisper.

Jake's breath caught in his throat, but he didn't have the chance to defend himself. Claudia turned away from him with a scornful glance, focusing on Stella instead.

"You," Claudia said slowly, as if each word was carefully weighed. "You've destroyed my show."

Stella stood frozen, panic settling in her stomach as she opened her mouth to apologize, but Claudia cut her off, her tone colder than ice.

"Don't speak to me," Claudia snapped, turning to her assistant. "Get my legal team on the phone. We are suing Nova Models for this breach of contract. Damages. Public embarrassment. The whole lot."

Stella's face drained of color. She had no idea how to respond. She had been thrust into this mess by Jake, and now she was caught in a firestorm she couldn't control.

Jake, for his part, was shaking with a mixture of fear and panic. "Claudia, please, be reasonable—"

"Reasonable?" Claudia shot back, her voice sharp. "You just cost me millions. My reputation. My brand. Do you have any idea what you've done?" She was barely able to contain her fury as she glared at him.

Stella opened her mouth, about to plead for mercy, but Claudia ignored her entirely.

Raelynn had been standing quietly off to the side, watching the entire scene unfold. Now, as if sensing the moment was ripe for confrontation, she stepped forward.

Claudia turned, her eyes blazing with fury. "Why weren't you on my runway?" she demanded, her voice colder than the winter air.

Raelynn met her gaze with a calm, unwavering stare. "Because he pulled me from it," she said, her chin tilted slightly toward Jake.

Claudia's anger flared again. "You—"

Raelynn didn't allow her to finish. "You were willing to throw me under the bus if this went wrong, weren't you?" she asked, her voice laced with icy clarity.

Claudia inhaled sharply, the words hitting her like a slap. She let out a slow breath, and for a moment, her expression softened.

"I'll be in touch," she said, her tone much gentler now. "I'll reach out to you."

Raelynn didn't respond. She simply nodded and turned away, her posture stiff with a quiet resolve. Without a word, she made her way toward the exit.

Nessa followed behind her, a subtle smile tugging at her lips.

As they left the chaos of the backstage area behind, Raelynn knew that this was only the beginning. Tonight, the downfall of Jake Holloway had begun and she was going to relish every moment of it.