Chapter 6 The Glass Ceiling

The following Monday, the headquarters of Pearly Fashion Accessories felt different. The air was charged with a frantic, electric energy. Word had leaked that the Thorne family was in a tailspin, and in the vacuum of their falling grace, Pearl Lawrence had emerged not as a victim, but as a titan.

Pearl sat at her desk, her long hair tied back in a sleek, professional ponytail. Before her lay the blueprints for the Autumn Gala—the event that would officially debut her new sterling silver collection.

"The guest list is doubling every hour, Pearl," Sarah-Jane said, leaning against the doorframe with a tablet in hand. "Now that Julian is out of the picture, everyone who was afraid of offending the Thorne family is suddenly your best friend. Even the Vogue editors are asking for front-row seats."

Pearl didn't look up, her eyes fixed on a sketch of a teardrop earring. "They aren't my friends, Sarah-Jane. They’re vultures waiting to see if I’ll fly or fall. Make sure the security protocols for the Gala are tripled. I don't want Julian or Maya anywhere near that building."

"About that..." Sarah-Jane hesitated. "Maya sent an email this morning. She’s threatening a wrongful termination suit. She claims she has 'intellectual property' rights to the marketing strategy for the new line."

Pearl’s pen snapped in her hand. The black ink bled onto the white paper, a dark stain on her perfect designs. "She has nothing but the clothes I bought her and the secrets she stole. Tell legal to bury her in paperwork. I want her too busy defending herself to even think about a lawsuit."

As Sarah-Jane left, Pearl leaned back and sighed. Her company was saved, her supplies were secured, and her enemies were retreating. Yet, a nagging curiosity tugged at her. Who was Ares Holdings? And why were they acting like her personal guardian angel?

She picked up her phone and dialed a private investigator she had used years ago. "Find out who owns Ares Holdings," she commanded. "I don't care how many shell companies you have to peel back. I want a name."

While Pearl was hunting ghosts, Gabriel Martins was sitting in the back of a blacked-out SUV parked three blocks away from Pearl’s office. He had traded his "house husband" apron for a bespoke navy suit that cost more than a mid-sized sedan.

Marcus sat in the driver’s seat, staring at a monitor mounted on the dashboard. "Sir, Pearl has hired a private investigator to look into Ares Holdings. She’s smarter than we gave her credit for."

Gabriel smiled, a shadow of pride crossing his features. "She’s a Lawrence. Investigating the source of her luck is second nature to her. How deep can the investigator get?"

"He’ll hit a wall in the Cayman Islands by noon," Marcus replied. "But Sir, we have a more pressing issue. Your grandmother is asking why you’ve missed three consecutive board meetings. She’s threatening to fly to London to 'check on her investment.'"

Gabriel rubbed his jaw. His grandmother, the Dowager of the Martins Empire, was the only person on earth he truly feared. If she found out he was playing "cinderella in reverse" with a fashion designer, she would have Pearl’s company liquidated before dinner just to bring him home.

"Keep her in Zurich," Gabriel ordered. "Tell her I’m overseeing a sensitive acquisition of the UK’s retail infrastructure. It’s not technically a lie—I am acquiring a very important piece of the UK’s heart."

"And the Thorne situation?"

Gabriel’s eyes turned cold. "Julian Thorne attempted to physically threaten Pearl in her office yesterday. I saw it on the security feed I intercepted. He’s desperate, and desperate men are sloppy. I want his father’s firm delisted by Friday. If they can’t play fair in the market, they don't deserve to be in it."

"Understood, Sir. Oh, and your wife just messaged your 'poor' phone. She wants to know if you can meet her for lunch at the park. She says she has 'good news' to share."

The coldness in Gabriel’s eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a warmth that Marcus still found baffling. "Find me a change of clothes. Something... faded. And a bicycle. I told her I was going to use the afternoon to look for delivery work."

The park was a sea of green and gold, the London autumn finally beginning to show its colors. Pearl was sitting on a bench, a brown paper bag of sandwiches between her and an empty spot. When she saw Gabriel pedaling toward her on a rusty bicycle, wearing a worn-out denim jacket, she couldn't help but smile.

"You look exhausted," she said as he sat down, puffing slightly for effect.

"The hills in this city are no joke," Gabriel lied, wiping fake sweat from his brow. "But I think I landed a gig with a local courier. It’s not CEO pay, but it’ll cover my share of the groceries."

Pearl reached out and touched his hand. "Gabriel, I told you, you don't have to do that. The company is doing well. Better than well."

"I want to contribute, Pearl. I’m your husband, not your pet."

Pearl felt a pang of guilt. Here she was, keeping secrets about her mother’s inheritance and her corporate wars, while he was out there trying to earn a pittance to help her.

"The silver shipments arrived," she said, changing the subject. "And Julian is losing his grip. Someone is destroying him, Gabriel. Someone with more money than God. I feel like I’m watching a movie where the villain gets what he deserves, but I don't know who the director is."

Gabriel unwrapped a sandwich, hiding his smirk. "Maybe the universe just decided you’ve had enough bad luck."

"Maybe," Pearl whispered. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I’m scared, Gabriel. What if this 'Ares' group wants something from me? What if they expect a favor in return for saving my company?"

Gabriel wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. The scent of her perfume—something like jasmine and ambition—filled his senses. "Then you’ll fight them. Just like you fought Julian. But until then... just breathe. You aren't alone in this anymore."

For the first time in her life, Pearl believed it. She didn't see the way Gabriel’s gaze shifted to a man in a gray suit standing fifty yards away—a Martins Group security detail disguised as a tourist. She didn't see the man nod to Gabriel, confirming that the area was secure.

She only saw the man beside her—the man who had nothing, yet somehow made her

feel like she had everything.