From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 120: That Wasn't Her

In her mind, the two of them now belonged in the same category.

Sebastian gave her a long look. He didn't press further.

He smiled slightly—a flicker of understanding.

Riley wasn't in the mood for games. She put down her glass and got straight to the point. "Mr. Torres, could you take me to the nearest couture shop? I need to change out of this dress immediately."

Her goal was clear.

She wasn't going to walk away like this—humiliated—and let Sophia win.

Sebastian gave a quiet order to the driver in the front seat. "Turn around. We're going to Sunveil Villa."

Then he dialed a number. "Have a gown ready. Something suitable for a formal event. Deliver it to Sunveil Villa in ten minutes."

Less than ten minutes later, the car pulled slowly into a private, secluded complex in the heart of the city—quiet and hidden from the noise.

It stopped in front of a small, modern villa tucked among greenery and flowers.

Sebastian got out first.

By the time Riley was about to follow, he'd already walked around to her side and opened the door for her again.

The next second, his suit jacket—still warm from his body—dropped onto her shoulders.

The oversized coat wrapped around her small frame. The warmth from another person seeped through her thin fishtail dress, pressing against her chilled skin. It felt strange—almost burning.

Riley paused and looked up at him.

"Get out," Sebastian said, his expression calm.

Riley's cold-stiffened body was slow to react.

The weight and warmth of his jacket distracted her for a moment. As she stepped out, her heel slipped. Her body tilted forward, losing balance completely.

She was about to hit the hard ground—

Sebastian's large hand caught her waist with precision. He pulled her up and steadied her firmly against his chest.

Riley's face pressed unexpectedly against his warm, solid chest.

The whole world seemed to go quiet in that instant.

All that remained was their tangled breathing and the heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Riley's cheek stayed pressed against his warm chest. Her breath mixed with the scent of his cologne—masculine, heart-racing.

It was a feeling she'd never experienced before.

Lucas had held her, too, but never like this—pure protection, with a comforting strength.

Feeling the soft and warm in his arms, Sebastian's deep eyes darkened for a moment.

But he didn't indulge in the unexpected intimacy.

He used his arm to steady her. Once she found her balance again, he let go, keeping a hand on her arm until she stood firmly on her own.

His movements were controlled and gentlemanly.

Riley quickly regained her composure. She stepped back half a step, putting a little distance between them.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Sebastian gave a nod in response.

He then turned and walked into the villa first.

Riley pulled his jacket—still warm—tighter around her shoulders and followed.

In the living room, a middle-aged man who looked like a lead stylist was already waiting with his team.

"Mr. Torres. Ms. Harper. The gowns are ready." The stylist stepped aside, revealing a full rack of dresses behind him.

Nearly twenty top-tier couture gowns—each clearly worth a fortune—gleamed under the bright lights.

Ethereal, sexy, elegant—they covered every possible banquet look.

Riley's gaze swept quickly over the rack.

She stopped at a strapless black floor-length gown.

"That one," she said, making her decision decisively.

Sebastian had already settled onto the living room couch, his eyes following Riley's every move.

When he saw her choice, a knowing smile flickered in his eyes—he was not surprised at all.

In his eyes, Riley was never meant to be confined or restricted.

The soft, elegant fishtail dress Lucas put her in was like a restraint—hiding the sharp edge underneath, trying to shape her into the obedient, unthreatening Mrs. Ashford he imagined.

But Sebastian knew better. That wasn't her.

Riley was sharp and unyielding, undeniably beautiful yet fiercely strong.

She was meant to overcome hardships on her own, not stay confined and rely on dressing up to please others.

The styling team worked fast. In no time, Riley had changed and stepped out of the dressing room.

Her makeup today was already light and elegant—didn't need much adjustment.

The stylist just deepened her eye makeup a little, then handed her a lipstick.

The color was bold red, rich and full.

Riley took it, looked in the mirror, and put it on herself.