Unmarked

It was just 2 weeks before the start of fashion week Paris and while Andy would not be going herself did not mean she had any less work to complete. Miranda had done everything to push her buttons, but even the most impossible of tasks, getting the Harry potter manuscript, had not been enough to get rid of her. And during there last even Andy was even able to impress Miranda by saving her from the embarrassment of not knowing who was right in front of her. Emily had been sick all week and was not able to properly prepare. However Andy came and saved the day.

Due to the growing tension between her and Miranda, her relationship with Nate did not get any better. He did not like it one bid that she spend all her time at work. And when she also cam home late for his birthday is when he decided to leave for Boston. Andy did not stop him, the feelings she had for him were long since gone anyway.

And it was not just her relationship that had ended, she had this nagging feeling that Mirandas marriage to Stephen was crumbling as well. Miranda made longer hours than usual and whenever Andy would deliver the book, the stale smell of cigars and whisky telling her he was there, was not as strong anymore.

She knew it from the brief, clipped conversations she overheard, the way Miranda’s already razor-sharp demeanor turned ice-cold whenever Stephen’s name was mentioned. Andy never pried, never asked, but she noticed. And somewhere deep inside, she felt it, like a tug she couldn't explain. And tonight was no different, as she opened the door she noticed the light in the study was still on. She went to place the book on the side table when she heard her name being called.

“Andrea” she picked the book back up and made her way to the study.

“You have the book?” Andy looked at her for a second before handing it over to her.

Miranda took it and started looking it over. Without looking at Andy she said “You’re going to Paris,” Miranda said, her tone flat but with an underlying weight that Andy couldn’t quite place.

Andy blinked. “I—what?”

Miranda let out an impatient sigh, flipping a page of the book. “Emily is no longer a part of my team. I require the best, and that no longer includes her.”

Andy’s stomach twisted. “But… this is Emily’s trip. She’s been looking forward to it for her whole life.”

Miranda’s lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. “Emily is incapable of fulfilling her duties, which means you will take her place. If you refuse I will assume you are not serious about your future at Runway or any other publication”

Andy’s throat felt tight. She wanted to protest. She wanted to say no. But she also knew she didn’t really have a choice. Before Andy could say anything more about it a “That’s all” signaled the end of the conversation. Andy turned around and made her way back home to her apartment.

**-

The next morning Andy stood alone in the quite office waiting for the printer to stop. Just as it was finishing did Miranda walk into the office. She all but trough her stuff onto Emilys desk an made her way into her own office. Andy exhaled the breath she did not know she was holding. Just as she was about to sit down did she hear Miranda tell her “Andrea, do not forget to tell Emily. In fact do it now.”

She picked up the phone and dialed Emilys cell who picked up immediately. But when she wanted to tell her about her not going to Paris, did she hear the honking of a car and a loud crash. Later in the hospital is became clear that Emily had not sustained any major injury apart from a broken leg. She was however pissed that Andy even considered going with Miranda even now he could not go.

**-

Fashion Week in Paris was an electrifying chaos, a whirlwind of high fashion, flashing cameras, and cutthroat ambition. Andrea had expected nothing less, but experiencing it firsthand at Miranda Priestly’s side was something entirely different.

Every show they attended was a battlefield of whispers and careful glances, of designers eager for Miranda’s approval and rivals waiting for her to falter. And through it all, Miranda carried herself like a queen. Regal. Untouchable.

But Andy knew better. She had seen the tension in Miranda’s shoulders, the way she clenched her jaw a little tighter than usual. The world hadn’t caught on yet, but Andy could feel it. As the day wound down, Andy found herself standing in the grand entryway of their hotel suite, adjusting the bracelets around her wrists as Miranda dismissed her for the evening.

“You may go, Andrea.” The words were spoken with a cool detachment, but something in Miranda’s tone made Andy hesitate. “You should eat something,” Andy said instead, ignoring the arch of Miranda’s delicate brow. “It’s been a long day.” A sharp inhale. A flicker of something in those ice-blue eyes. And then, “That’s all.”

Andy nodded, knowing when to retreat. But the unease settled in her bones, making it impossible to shake the feeling that something was coming.

Dinner with Christian was uneventful. A quiet meal at a bistro not far from the hotel, away from the eyes of the fashion elite. For a brief moment, Andy allowed herself to relax. But the moment she stepped back into the suite, she knew something was wrong. The suite was dimly lit, the air thick with something unfamiliar—something raw. And then, she heard it. A choked, muffled sound. A quiet, fractured sob.
Andy’s breath caught as she turned toward the sitting area. Miranda sat curled in one of the big couch, head bowed, hands gripping the delicate hem of her grey bathrobe. The sight of her—so composed, so utterly unshakable—now crumbling under the weight of something unseen, made Andy’s chest tighten. She stepped forward before she could stop herself. “Miranda?”

The Omega’s head snapped up, tear-streaked cheeks catching the soft glow of the lamp. For a fleeting second, pure vulnerability flashed across her face before the mask slammed back into place.

“Andrea, there you are… We need to go over the seating chart. ”

“Oh.. Okay” Andy got the seating chard out of her bag and handed it to Miranda. “”First we need to move Snoop Dog to my table”

“But your table is full…” There was a brief pass before Miranda looked at her. “Stephen isn’t coming”

“So I do not have to fetch him from the airport tomorrow then?”

“Well if you speak to him and he rethinks the divorce, than sure go fetch.”

“Miranda-”

“And than when we get back we need to contact Leslie to see what she can do to minimize the press…” Another silence fell, Andy didn’t know what to say. She just wanted to go over that and comfort the woman.

Miranda looked at her with sad eyes “Another divorce, you can imagine what they are going to write about me. But I don’t really care what they write about me but the girls… It is just so unfair to the girls…” Andy saw another tear roll down her cheek.

Andy clenched her jaw. The injustice of it all made her blood boil, her Alpha instincts demanding action. Miranda was fighting this war alone, and she shouldn’t have to.

“I’m sorry,” Andy said softly, the words inadequate but true.

Miranda gave a hollow laugh. “No, you’re not.”

Andy took another step forward, drawn in by something deeper. “I am.”

Miranda’s gaze flickered to hers, searching. And then something in her expression shifted—recognition, maybe. A silent understanding. The bond between them had been growing for weeks, an unspoken pull neither of them fully acknowledged. But tonight, with Miranda raw and exposed, Andy felt it thrumming between them with undeniable clarity. Her body responded instinctively, her scent thickening in the air, laced with something new, something undeniable.

Her Alpha was pressing more and more, it wants its mate. Seeing Miranda in such distress made het want to comfort her, claim her, make her yours forever. Miranda’s pupils dilated, nostrils flaring slightly as she caught the change. Her lips parted, a soft inhale betraying her own response. Andy stiffened, willing herself to push it down, to control the primal surge of need that threatened to surface.
Not now. Not like this.

She swallowed hard. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Miranda’s breath shuddered out, her walls trembling but not yet breaking. “I always have.”

Andy clenched her fists. “Maybe you don’t have to anymore.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Then Miranda exhaled, the fight draining from her posture just enough for Andy to see the truth beneath the facade. She wasn’t as untouchable as she pretended to be. And Andy? Andy wasn’t about to walk away. She got up from the chair she was sitting in and made her way over to Miranda. Miranda tried but failed to get up from the couch before Andy could make it to her.

“No, don’t you dare move” Miranda freezes in place, when she looks at Andy she can see that her eyes have changed color to almost black. Mirinda puts on a brave face but Andy dan see past it “Stop”

“I have been patient and I have been careful. But enough is enough!”

“We can’t do this… You can’t do this, it will ruin everything I worked so hard to build” Miranda whispers. Andy places her hand on the side of Miranda’s face. “You knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, pretend to be an Alpha. This is no way of living.”

“I can and I did…”

“Well not anymore” Andy bents down and captures Mirandas mouth with her own. The hand that was on her face moves to her throat and she softly pushes Mirandas head backwards. Miranda lets out a soft mewling sound. Andy feels her pushing against her shoulders. She lets go Miranda’s lips to take a breath. Andy can see she is losing control fast, her Omega instincts are getting the better of her and the suppressants are failing her.

“There is a lot that we need to talk about, but for now only one thing matters.”

Miranda looks at her, the fog and submission clearly visible “And what would that be”

“I’m an Alpha and you, you are unmated unmarked Omega. My mate!” with that Andy bends down and bites down hard on the side of Miranda’s neck. She hers her scream but Andy doesn’t care, her Alpha wants only one thing and that is to finally claim her.

**-

(Earlier that evening)

Irv was not a man who startled easily. Years in the business had made him immune to dramatic revelations and desperate last-minute deals. But when his private line rang late that night, he had the distinct feeling that whatever waited for him on the other end of the call was going to be an issue. And he was right.

"Irv Ravitz speaking."

There was a pause on the line before a hesitant male voice spoke up. "Mr. Ravitz, this is Nate—Nate Cooper. I, uh, I used to date Andrea Sachs."

Irv frowned, glancing at the clock. "And what exactly do you want, Mr. Cooper? It's quite late."

"I know," Nate rushed out, his voice tight with urgency. "I wouldn’t be calling if this wasn’t important. It’s about Miranda Priestly." Irv's frown deepened. "What about her?"

Nate took a breath, as if bracing himself. "She's an Omega. And she’s been using pills to pass as an Alpha."

For the first time in years, Irv felt genuinely taken aback. The revelation sent a shock through his system, but he recovered quickly. "That’s quite the claim. And why, exactly, should I believe you?"

"Because it’s true," Nate insisted. "Andy figured it out weeks ago. I didn’t believe her at first, but I know Andy. She wouldn’t lie about something like this. She confronted Miranda, and Miranda didn’t deny it." Irv leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. If this was true—if Miranda Priestly, the most powerful woman in fashion, had been hiding her true status for years—it was beyond dangerous. It was career-ending.

"And why are you telling me this now?" Irv asked coolly, already calculating how he could use this information.
Nate hesitated, but then his voice hardened. "Because Andy wants to claim her."

Silence stretched between them. Irv's fingers tightened around the phone. "Come again?"

"She wants to claim Miranda, tonight," Nate repeated, his voice laced with something that sounded like resentment. "She will mark her. If you move now, you can spin this to your advantage before the news gets out."

Irv exhaled slowly, thoughts racing. If Miranda had truly been disguising herself as an Alpha while unclaimed, the implications were catastrophic—not just for her, but for the entire structure that allowed her to reign over Runway.

And if Andrea Sachs had stepped in as her Alpha…

Irv wasn’t sure if this was a disaster or an opportunity.

"Let me get this straight," he said carefully. "You're telling me Miranda Priestly has been breaking every societal law by posing as an Alpha, and now, of all people, Andrea Sachs is going to claim her?"

"Yes," Nate confirmed, his voice bitter. "Andy’s never been one to follow the rules, and now she’s entangled herself in something she doesn’t understand. You know what this means, don’t you?"

Oh, Irv knew exactly what it meant.

It meant that Miranda’s career was hanging by a thread. That her power—the very thing she had built her empire upon—was more fragile than anyone had ever realized. That if the truth came out, the fashion world would devour her alive. And most importantly, it meant Irv had the perfect leverage to finally remove Miranda Priestly from Runway.

"You did the right thing coming to me, Mr. Cooper," Irv finally said, his tone neutral, though his mind was already setting plans in motion. "Leave it to me."

Nate sighed, relieved. "I just… I don’t want Andy to get hurt. She doesn’t understand what she’s getting into."

"Of course," Irv said, though his thoughts were already elsewhere. "I'll handle it."

As soon as he ended the call, Irv leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He had been waiting for a moment like this for years—a chink in Miranda’s armor, something undeniable that he could use against her. And now, thanks to a reckless Alpha and a vengeful ex-boyfriend, he had exactly what he needed. With a smirk, Irv reached for his phone again. It was time to make some calls.

**-

Irv Ravitz moved through the dimly lit hallways of the Parisian hotel with careful, calculated steps. The information Nate Cooper had given him was invaluable—more than he could have ever hoped for. Years of waiting for Miranda Priestly to slip up, and now she had handed him everything on a silver platter.

Miranda Priestly. An Omega. Unclaimed. And now, Andrea Sachs—a nobody from nowhere—was about to claim her? Oh no, Irv wasn’t going to let that happen. Not before he could use this to his advantage.

As he approached the door to her suite, he slowed, pressing himself into the shadows. The door was cracked open just enough for him to hear the hushed, tense voice of Miranda Priestly.

"You can’t be serious, Stephen," Miranda's voice was cool, but there was something underneath it—a fragility she rarely showed. "You’re really doing this now? In Paris?"

Irv smirked to himself. Oh, this was better than he imagined. He adjusted his position, leaning closer to the doorframe as he listened.
"I don’t have a choice, Miranda," Stephen’s voice was less restrained, frustration bleeding into his words. "It’s been over for a long time, and we both know it. The girls see it too. I can’t keep pretending." Miranda’s exhale was slow, measured. "The girls don’t need another scandal."

"No," Stephen said bluntly. "But they also don’t need to see their mother clawing at a marriage that’s been dead for quit some time."
Silence stretched between them. Irv strained to hear Miranda’s response, but all that followed was a soft inhale—perhaps a stifled sob, though he couldn’t be sure.

Then, Miranda’s voice came again, quieter this time. "If you do this now, Stephen, you know what will happen. The media will tear us apart. It’s not just about me. It’s about them."

Stephen hesitated. "I know. But you’ll handle it. You always do."

Irv gritted his teeth. That insufferable arrogance Miranda always carried—Stephen still saw it in her, even now, when she was at her most vulnerable. And yet, the way she spoke, the weight in her tone… she was afraid. Afraid not just for herself, but for her daughters. It was a weakness, another chink in her armor. And Irv would use it. "I’ll have the papers sent to you tomorrow," Stephen continued. "I’m sorry, Miranda. But this is the way it has to be."

A long pause. Then, Miranda's voice, steady but devoid of any fight. "Goodbye, Stephen."

Irv barely had time to step back before he heard the click of Miranda’s phone being set down, followed by a deep, shaky exhale. He smirked to himself. So, it was true. Miranda Priestly was about to lose everything.

It was time to make his move. But before he could step inside he hears heels clicking against the floor of the hallway. “Shit, well this will have to wait until tomorrow than” he quickly makes his way to the other side of the hallway. Just in time before Andy sees him.