Chapter 5
•Helen's POV•
I woke up at seven in the morning to sunlight streaming through the windows.
I sat up on the bed, stretching my arms.
For the first time in my entire life, I had slept through the night without waking up terrified of an alarm or a shouting voice.
Looking around the quiet and beautiful apartment arranged by Pierce Global, a strange warmth bloomed inside me.
I had never lived on my own before.
Growing up in an orphanage, I shared a tiny room with ten other girls, sleeping on squeaky bunk beds.
In community college, I shared a cramped room with five roommates.
Right after graduation, I met Philip. We moved straight into a small flat together, then had a quick five-minute court wedding. There were no guests, no flowers, and no music.
Philip didn't even buy me a wedding ring.
Now, I was twenty-six years old, standing in a space that belonged only to me.
I took a deep breath, and smiled.
By nine o'clock, a car dropped me off outside the huge tower of Pierce Global Headquarters.
I stepped into the lobby, expecting to be sent down to a basement workspace like I was used to.
But before I could even ask the front desk receptionist for directions, a familiar tall figure walked out of the elevators.
Nathaniel walked toward me, ignoring the eyes of dozens of employees standing around us and stopped right in front of me.
“Good morning, Ms. Clarke,” His voice carried a gentle warmth.
“Good morning, Mr. Pierce,” I replied.
“Follow me,” he said, extending his arm slightly to guide me toward the elevator.
We rode up to the top floor in silence.
When the doors slid open, Nathaniel led me down a hallway and opened a set of double doors.
My mouth opened slightly in shock.
The studio was huge, with sunlight flooding the room from every angle.
It was filled with brand-new industrial sewing machines, cutting tables, drawing tablets, and so on.
It looked like a museum built for a master artist.
“This is your space,” Nathaniel declared, standing beside me.
“No one enters this room without your permission. You have freedom to hire your own team, pick your fabrics, and set your schedule.”
I turned to look up at him, feeling a sudden flutter in my stomach. “This is all... for me?”
“You are the creative heart of Pierce Global now, Ms. Clarke.” Nathaniel looked down at me with seriousness. “It’s time you were treated like one.”
My face felt warm under his gaze.
I wasn't used to someone looking at me like I was important.
With Philip, I was always an inconvenience, a nuisance, or a secret servant.
But Nathaniel looked at me like I was gold.
He handed me a tablet. “I thought you might want to watch the morning news,” he said, a smirk touching his lips.
“Crawford Fashion is having a rough morning.”
I tapped the screen. It opened a live video feed from Philip’s office
The client whose white gown Claudia had ruined with the coffee had just issued a formal complaint.
She was refusing any replacement offer and demanding an immediate public apology for the disaster and drop in design quality.
Panicking to save his brand's reputation, Philip had called an emergency meeting at ten o'clock.
On the screen, I watched recorded security footage from Crawford Fashion's main studio.
Philip was pacing back and forth in front of the design team, his arms waving helplessly in the air.
“Claudia, just draw a new concept.” He yelled.“You’re the lead designer. Draw something right now so we can send it to the factory.”
Claudia stood at the whiteboard, holding a black marker with shaking hands.
She looked terrified, sweating through her heavy makeup.
She pressed the marker against the board and drew a messy, crooked dress outline that looked like a middle-school art project.
The chief tailor took one look at the drawing and shook his head. “Mr. Crawford, this is a terrible copy of a cheap dress from three seasons ago. We can't present this to a major backer. It’s embarrassing.”
“Shut up!” Philip screamed. “Just open Helen’s master archives.”
“She has more than fifty unused sketch files. We’ll just take one of her backup drawings and claim Claudia made it.”
Philip shoved past the staff, ran over to the computer, and typed in my admin password.
A warning box popped up on the monitor screen… ‘ACCESS DENIED. All Files Removed By Owner. Legal Rights Protected Under Pierce Global Law Firm.’
“What is this?” Philip shrieked, slamming his fist onto the keyboard.
“Where are her files? IT Department! Get in here right now!”
The head IT technician ran into the room, checked the system, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Mr. Crawford... every single drawing, pattern file, and fabric code linked to Helen’s account was deleted from our servers at midnight. There are no backups left on our hard drives.”
Philip stumbled backward, clutching his desk as if he had just been hit by a truck.
He was stranded now, holding an empty brand with zero designs to show the world.
Just as the video paused on Philip’s terrified face, my phone sitting on Nathaniel’s desk began ringing loudly.
The caller ID displayed Philip’s name.
I looked up at Nathaniel. He gave me a calm nod.
I slid the answer button and tapped the speaker icon, setting the phone down on the desk between us.
“Helen!” Philip’s voice blasted through the speaker, screaming, and stripped of his usual arrogant tone.
“Where are you? What did you do with the files?”
I kept my voice calm. “Good morning, Mr. Philip.”
“Don't you 'good morning' me!” Philip barked, sounding like he was on the verge of crying tears of rage.
“There’s a glitch on the company network.All your design files are missing. Get back to the studio right now and fix the system! Claudia’s dress needs to go into production in two hours!”
“It’s not a glitch, Philip,” I said, looking into Nathaniel’s attentive eyes. “I deleted my work. I told you last night—my notice was final. I don't work for you anymore.”
“Are you crazy?” Philip yelled.
“You can't just leave me like this! You owe me, Helen! I made you! If you don't come back right now and fix this mess, I swear to God I will—”
“Goodbye, Philip,” I cut him off, ending the call instantly.
I let out a long breath, feeling a heavy weight lift off my shoulders.
Nathaniel stepped closer to me.
He raised his hand, gently brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.
His touch was so tender that my skin tingled briefly.
“You did well, Ms. Clarke,” Nathaniel said, his voice dropping into a purr that filled my heart with warmth.
“As long as you are under my roof, no one will ever steal your light again.”