He reached for her hand, not gently, not possessively either. Just firm. Decisive.
Pearl looked up at him, slightly startled, but he didn't give her time to protest.
He led her back into the ballroom, not toward the crowd, not into the lights but toward one specific corner.
"Where are we—"
"Just walk with me," he said quietly.
They reached a man in a classic grey tux — Mr. Raymond Harlowe, one of the Zenith board members.
"Mr. Harrison," Harlowe greeted, surprised. "Back again?"
"I thought it was the right time to make a few introductions," Richard said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. "This is Pearl Grey. My fiancee."
Pearl blinked every time he said the word fiancee like it meant something real, it tugged a little harder at her gut.
Mr. Harlowe raised his brows but nodded with respect. "Ah. Of course. Lovely to meet you, Miss Grey."
Pearl gave a small smile. "It's an honor, sir."
There were no long pleasantries. Just a few polite exchanges, but that was enough.
Anyone watching would see her standing beside Richard Harrison, speaking to Zenith royalty, hand-in-hand. Enough to bury whispers… or change their tone.
Then, as they turned away, Richard's gaze landed on Cassandra.
Still standing. Still watching.
And then they approached Cassandra.
She was standing near a table, champagne flute in hand, trying too hard to look uninterested. But her brows rose when Richard stopped in front of her, still holding Pearl's hand.
"Cassandra," Richard said, his tone unreadable. "I believe you've already met Pearl."
Cassandra's lips curled, but before she could respond, Pearl beat her to it.
"Oh, we've met," Pearl said sweetly, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "She left quite the impression."
Pearl straightened, looked Cassandra in the eye, and smiled—sharp and soft all at once.
"Thanks for the warm welcome earlier. You're exactly the kind of person people warn others about."
Cassandra's mouth parted slightly—more surprised than offended.
Pearl gave her a light smirk, then turned to Richard.
"Shall we?"
They walked away, leaving Cassandra clutching her champagne like it could save her from drowning.
And just like that, the whispers faded into applause as the gala's host tapped his glass.
The soft chime of a glass being tapped echoed through the grand ballroom, gradually silencing the low hum of conversation. All eyes turned to the front, where Mr. Alphonse Carter, the senior executive of Zenith International, stood beside Richard Harrison with a glass of champagne in hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Carter began, his deep voice carrying easily across the room, "tonight is not just a celebration of business, but of brilliance, integrity, and unexpected unions."
A few polite chuckles followed.
"We're here to acknowledge the new chapter in Zenith's global expansion, and to thank the man who brought this chapter to life, Richard Harrison. Your relentless commitment and vision made the impossible, possible."
Applause broke out across the room. Richard gave a respectful nod but said nothing yet.
"And of course," Mr. Carter added, glancing toward Pearl, who stood elegantly at Richard's side, "we raise a toast not only to the business, but to the support and balance that every great man needs to keep his mind sharp—his partner."
Pearl's cheeks warmed as murmurs spread across the room. Some surprised, some curious. But all eyes were on her now.
Richard stepped forward, lifting his own glass and said,
"To growth, innovation, and the future of Zenith. Here's to a partnership built on vision and results."
A wave of raised glasses followed his words. Clinks of crystal sounded through the room.
The clinking of glasses faded, replaced by a final round of applause as the gala began to wind down. Conversations grew quieter, laughter softer, and the gentle hum of classical music signaled the approaching end of the night.
Richard handed his unfinished drink to a waiter and adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket. Richard leaned closer to Pearl, his voice low.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
Pearl gave a small nod, holding onto her clutch bag tightly.
But instead of heading straight for the exit, Richard turned to a few key guests nearby shaking hands, exchanging brief words with a board member from Zenith, nodding politely at a senator, and offering a tight-lipped smile to an investor who had been watching them closely all evening.
Pearl stood silently beside him, her posture composed. She caught a few glances not scornful this time, but curious. A couple of guests gave her a small nod of approval. Whispers floated around them, the tone changed from mocking to intrigued.
By the time Richard returned to her side, the buzz had shifted.
Without another word, he placed a guiding hand at the small of her back and led her through the crowd
They exited the hall with quiet confidence, the golden lights of the ballroom casting a last glow behind them as the doors closed.
Outside, the night was calm, a gentle breeze brushing against Pearl's skin as they approached the waiting black sedan.
The driver opened the door, and Richard held it for her. She slid in silently, her expression unreadable. He joined her on the other side, the door clicking shut behind him.
The car was silent for the first few minutes.
Pearl leaned her head slightly against the window, the events of the evening replaying in her mind like a slow movie reel.
Then, as they drove past the glowing streets of Montelucia City, she spoke.
"I got asked something tonight," she said softly.
Richard, who had been quietly scrolling through messages on his phone, looked over at her.
"One of the reporters asked what I did for a living. And… if I planned to live off you."
He raised a brow, then sighed. "They dig. That's what they do. Say nothing, and eventually they stop. It's never worth engaging."
Pearl gave a small nod. But I thought maybe… maybe you should know. I don't have a job yet, not a formal one. I've been managing some freelance work online. Writing gigs. Social media handling, that kind of stuff."
She looked at him. "I'm not trying to live off you, Richard. I swear I'm not. I never wanted—"
"Pearl." His voice was firm but calm. "I know."
She blinked. "You do?"
"I wouldn't have brought you into this if I thought you were some gold-digger," he said. "You're not. And even if you were struggling, it wouldn't change the fact that none of this" he gestured vaguely, "is your fault."
Pearl stared at him for a beat, warmth blooming quietly in her chest.
"I just want to be as little trouble as possible… for as long as this engagement lasts," she murmured. "And I'm still really grateful for what you did that night. With that man. You didn't have to… but you did."
He didn't respond right away.
Then, softly, "You don't have to thank me every time. I saw something wrong. I stepped in. That's what decent people do."
Pearl smiled faintly and turned back to the window.
But in the shadows of the car, something had shifted again quietly, deeply, inevitably.
And neither of them spoke again for the rest of the ride.