chapter 92
Elena's POV:
Looking at Susan as she walked me to the elevator, impeccably composed even after hours of meetings and negotiations, I couldn't help but admire her sharp instincts.
No wonder she'd risen to such a position while still in her thirties. She had that rare combination of ruthless efficiency and genuine creative vision.
"Thank you again, Elena," Susan said as the elevator arrived, her handshake firm and confident. "I have a feeling this is the beginning of something spectacular."
"I hope so," I replied, meaning it.
As the elevator doors closed between us, I saw her already turning back to her office, phone pressed to her ear, no doubt orchestrating the evening's announcement with the same precise control she'd shown all afternoon.
The car pulled away from Maison Lucent's gleaming headquarters, and I found myself sinking back into the leather seat, my mind still processing everything that had transpired.
Marcus glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Everything went well, Mrs. Vane?"
"Better than expected," I admitted, my hand unconsciously moving to rest on the gentle swell of my belly.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the city as we made our way back to The Aurora.
When the private elevator opened directly into our penthouse, I was greeted by the warm aroma of something delicious cooking. Sebastian emerged from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a dish towel draped over his shoulder, looking devastatingly domestic in a way that still caught me off guard sometimes.
"You're back," he said, crossing the space between us in three quick strides. His hands found my face immediately, tilting it up to study my expression. "How did it go?"
"Well," I said, unable to suppress a small smile. "Very well, actually. We signed the contracts."
His eyes lit up with genuine pride, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead before pulling back. "Tell me everything. But first, sit down. You've been on your feet too long."
I let him guide me to the couch, secretly grateful for the chance to rest.
My feet were beginning to protest the heels I'd insisted on wearing, even though Sebastian had tried to convince me that flats would be perfectly acceptable for a business meeting.
"They even did a camera test," I told him as he settled beside me, his arm automatically coming around my shoulders. "Susan wants to announce everything tonight—the new series, the brand ambassadorship, all of it."
"Tonight?" His fingers found their way into my hair, gently working through the styled waves that were already beginning to fall. "Are you ready for that?"
Once my face was attached to the Onyx name, there would be no going back to the shadows. No more hiding behind mysterious personas or letting others take credit for my work.
"I think so," I said finally. "I'm tired of hiding."
Sebastian's hand stilled in my hair, and when I looked up at him, there was something fierce and protective in his expression. "Good," he said simply. "It's time the world knew exactly how extraordinary you are."
I studied his face, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. As Sebastian's sense of security in our relationship grew stronger, his need to control every aspect of my life had gradually loosened its grip.
Dinner passed in comfortable conversation.
I found myself relaxing into the normalcy of it, this strange domestic rhythm we'd somehow fallen into despite everything.
It was after nine when my phone buzzed with a notification. Then another. And another.
"I think they posted it," I said, my heart suddenly racing as I reached for the device.
Sebastian was already pulling up the Maison Lucent Instagram page on his phone, and there it was—a carousel of images from today's shoot.
In the first photo, I stood against a backdrop of midnight blue, one hand resting protectively over my bump while the other held a crystal bottle that caught the light like captured stars.
The caption read: "Introducing Elena Ross Vane, the creative genius behind Onyx and our new brand ambassador for the revolutionary maternal wellness line."
The comments were already pouring in.
"FINALLY, we get to see the face behind Onyx!"
"She's glowing!! That pregnancy radiance is real. "
"Wait, she's actually MARRIED?? My dreams are shattered before they even began."
"The talent, the beauty, the mystery man... she's living the dream"
"Been following since Midnight Garden launched. So happy to see you getting the recognition you deserve!"
Sebastian typed on his phone with focused intensity. I watched, bemused, as he shared Maison Lucent's post to his own rarely-used Instagram account, adding a simple caption: "Proud of my brilliant wife @ElenaRossVane. "
Within seconds, his post was flooded with reactions—verified blue checkmarks appearing like a swarm of digital butterflies. The comments section exploded into chaos:
"SEBASTIAN VANE HAS INSTAGRAM?? AND HE'S MARRIED??"
"So let me get this straight... Onyx has the talent, the beauty, AND Sebastian fucking Vane? Jealousy has officially destroyed my face."
"God really has favorites, and it shows."
"The power couple we never saw coming... I'm unwell."
"BRB going to cry in my studio apartment while eating instant noodles"
"This man hasn't posted, and he comes back just to claim his wife?"
The financial world apparently found Sebastian posting about his personal life far more shocking than my reveal as Onyx.
But he wasn't done. With methodical precision, he began saving each photo from the carousel, his expression utterly serious as if he were reviewing quarterly reports rather than pictures of his wife.
"Sebastian," I said, trying not to laugh as he held his phone at arm's length, squinting at the screen. "What are you doing?"
"Setting my wallpaper," he replied matter-of-factly, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "This one's good for the lock screen, but I think this one"—he swiped to show me a photo where I was looking off-camera, hand cradling my bump—"works better for the home screen."
"You're ridiculous," I said finally, shaking my head.
"Ridiculous?" He raised an eyebrow, setting his phone aside to pull me closer.
"I prefer 'devoted husband.' Or 'supportive partner.' Maybe 'your biggest fan'?" His lips curved into that dangerous half-smile that still made my pulse skip.
Before I could form a proper retort, he was already lifting me from the couch, carrying me toward our bedroom with that effortless strength that still caught me off guard.
"Sebastian," I protested halfheartedly, but he silenced me with a look that promised I'd pay for my teasing.
What followed was a thorough reminder of exactly how devoted he could be, each touch and whispered endearment dismantling my composure until I forgot all about social media notifications and brand ambassadorships.
He took his time, as if determined to imprint himself on every inch of me, to claim with actions what he'd declared with words for the world to see.
By the time he finally let me rest, I was boneless and drowsy, held secure against his chest.
The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was the gentle press of his lips against my temple and his voice, low and satisfied, murmuring about how utterly captivated he was by me, how I consumed his every thought.
But while we slept in our cocoon of newfound peace, wrapped in the afterglow of success and intimacy, neither of us was aware of the storm gathering in the digital sphere.
A single post was beginning to gain traction, shared and reshared in the shadows of anonymous forums and private group chats.