Chapter 6
•Helen's POV•
I stepped out of the elevator and onto the design floor at Crawford Fashion.
I was only here to hand in my resignation papers and gather my remaining tools.
The floor was in chaos.
Staff members were running back and forth, shouting into their phones.
Rolls of expensive fabrics were dumped messily on cutting tables, and paper scraps covered the floor.
As expected, without my organization, the entire workspace had fallen apart in less than twenty-four hours.
I walked toward my old workbench, picking up my remaining personal sewing materials and my favorite pink measuring tape.
“What are you doing here?” a voice spat behind me.
I turned around.
Claudia stood there, her arms crossed tight over her chest, her eyes red.
“I’m picking up my tools and dropping off a proper resignation,” I said, zipping my bag.
Claudia took a step closer, sneering. “You think you’re so smart, don't you? Deleting those files was a cheap trick, Helen.”
“But you’re making a huge mistake. Philip will always choose me over an unremarkable ghost-writer like you. You're nothing without him.” She snorted.
I looked at her. Her hands were shaking so hard she had to jam them into her pockets.
“You can keep Philip, Claudia,” I replied, looking her dead in the eye.
“And you can keep the title of lead designer. But without my drawings, everyone in this city will realize you're a fraud before this week ends.”
Claudia’s jaw dropped.
Before she could scream back at me, I turned my back on her and walked toward Philip’s office to drop off my resignation letter on his desk.
As I stepped near the doorway, the office door flew open.
Philip marched out.
The moment his eyes landed on me, his angry expression suddenly melted away.
He forced a tender look onto his face… the same fake charm he used on me when we first met years ago.
“Helen. You came back. I knew you would.”
“I’m not back, Philip,” I said, holding out my resignation letter. “Take this.”
Philip ignored the paper.
He reached out his hand, suddenly patting my hair.
“I know you’re just hurt, sweetie,” he murmured.
“I know I’ve been stressed lately. I said things I didn't mean. But we built this company together, Helen. We’re a team. A real couple.”
He took a step closer, trying to look deeply into my eyes.
“Come back inside,” Philip coaxed, offering a cocky smile.
“I’ll give you a salary raise, put your name beside mine on the next collection. I’ll even take you on a luxury trip to Paris next month. Just help me fix this press nightmare. Save us.”
For a tiny second, a faint echo of my old feelings flickered in my mind.
I remembered how much I used to crave his approval, how hard I had begged for just a scrap of his attention.
Then I looked past his shoulder.
Claudia was standing nearby, watching us with a sly smile, sure Philip’s charm would tame me again.
But no! I wasn't that weak, desperate girl anymore.
I grabbed Philip’s wrist, and firmly knocked his hand away from my hair.
“Don't touch me,” I eyed him.
Philip blinked, taken aback. “Helen, be reasonable—”
“I will say it again… my talent was never for sale to a liar, Philip,” I stood my stance, staring him down with disdain.
“For three years, I let you step on me because I was foolish enough to love you.”
“But I’m wide awake now. You didn't build this company. I built it with my broken and bruised fingers while you played CEO. You are nothing without me, and I am done saving you.”
Philip’s face turned red. The ridiculous soft charm he had been faking instantly vanished, replaced by rage.
He raised his hand, reaching out to grab my arm aggressively. “You ungrateful little bitch—”
The elevator doors right beside us slid open just then.
Nathaniel Pierce stepped out, looking like a powerful giant.
Standing behind him were two lawyers holding briefcases.
Nathaniel didn't say a word at first.
He stepped in between us, placing his frame in front of me like a protective wall, cutting Philip off.
Philip stumbled back, looking up at Nathaniel in shock.
“Pierce? What the hell are you doing in my building?”
Nathaniel looked down at Philip as if he were looking at a spit he just spat out.
“Step back from her,” He commanded. His voice was low and deep with authority.
Philip’s breath hitched, but he tried to puff out his chest. “She’s my wife! And she’s my worker! This is my office, Pierce. You can't just walk in here!”
Nathaniel reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a document.
He slapped it flat against Philip’s chest.
“She is no longer your worker,” he announced confidently.
“And as of midnight, Helen Clarke is officially under exclusive contract with Pierce Global.”
Philip’s mouth dropped open.
He grabbed the paper, his eyes scanning the bold text at the top, and they kept going wide with shock.
“Pierce Global?” Philip stammered, his voice trembling.
“No... no, this is impossible. Helen, you signed with my rival?”
“She signed with a man who actually knows her worth,” Nathaniel corrected bluntly.
He took a half-step closer to Philip, looming over him.
“This is a cease-and-desist letter. If you call her, approach her, harass her, or attempt to use a single line of her design work, my legal team will file lawsuits that will strip you of every penny you own by tomorrow afternoon.”
Philip stared at the paper, then looked at me standing calmly behind Nathaniel.
His mouth opened and closed, but not a single sound came out.
He looked defeated, crushed under the weight of his own foolishness.
Nathaniel turned around, his stern expression instantly softening as he looked down at me.
He offered me his arm. “Ready to go home, Helen?”
I looked at Philip’s horrified expression, then placed my hand on Nathaniel’s arm.
“Yes,” I smiled, my heart feeling warm. “Let’s go.”