CHAPTER 18 — THE PEARL STITCH

The pearls needed 40 hours.

I had 36 hours before Paris flight.

Three dresses on the rack. One-shoulder with pearl slit — the one she cut. Two others still needing hand stitching.

Lorenzo did not leave for Blackwood Tower. He stayed in the loft kitchen, on laptop, CEO calls on mute.

Rhys left at 7 AM. "Gallery opening. If board troubles you, call safe choice."

Safe choice. He kept saying it.

At 9 AM, Mrs. Patel video-called. Not for soup. For pearls.

"My girl, you are doing pearl stitch wrong!" she shouted from London kitchen. "You learned in Shoreditch, you forgot!"

She held up her own needle. "Loop, pull, not too tight! Like when Leo was on your back and you sewed bedsheet!"

I smiled first time since 5:17 AM viral photo.

Leo sat on the floor, two red cars, watching Mrs. Patel on my phone.

"Grandma Patel!" he said.

"My prince! You have cold? I bring soup on plane?"

Lorenzo watched from kitchen. He had never seen Mrs. Patel before. The woman who brought soup every day when I had nothing.

"Who is that?" he whispered.

"The woman who was mother when you were with a lie," I said.

He went quiet.

At 10 AM, Marcus came with two boxes. Not Blackwood boxes. Atelier S boxes.

"Vogue sent," he said. "And this."

Second box was small, velvet. Black velvet like gala invite.

Inside, white envelope. No name. Just S.

I opened it.

A single photo. My three dresses on The Pierre rack — before I fixed them. Cut from shoulder to waist. Taken from inside my suite.

And a note: _You fix cuts with pearls? Cute. Front row in Paris, I will sit close enough to see if pearls are real. — S_

Someone still had access to my suite.

Lorenzo took the photo, jaw tight.

"Marcus, change all The Pierre keys. And check housekeeping list. Who cleaned 68 Greene Street yesterday morning?"

Marcus nodded and left.

My hands shook.

Lorenzo came close. Not touching.

"Aria, you don't have to go Paris. We can do show in NY. Safer."

"No," I said. "I sewed bedsheets into dresses while Leo slept on my chest in a council flat with no heat. I will not hide because she has front row ticket."

I picked up the one-shoulder dress.

"I will make it better from the cut. Remember? I said that yesterday."

He nodded. "You said."

At 2 PM, Leo napped. Small room. Queen drawing on wall. Two cars under pillow.

I sewed. Pearl, loop, pull. Pearl, loop, pull.

Lorenzo sat on the floor next to the rack. Not CEO now. Just man in wrinkled white shirt.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"You don't sew."

"Teach me."

Three years ago he was on calls while I sketched on his kitchen island. Now he asks to sew pearls for the dress his fake wife cut.

I gave him a needle.

"Loop, pull, not too tight."

His big hands, clumsy. First pearl fell.

"Again," I said.

Second pearl stayed.

We sewed for one hour. No talking. Only pearls.

His phone buzzed. Board. He ignored.

My phone buzzed. Unknown number. I ignored.

At 3:15 PM, he spoke, still sewing.

"When you left, you took nothing. Velvet box only."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because box had our first year," I said. "Not Blackwood money."

He stopped sewing.

"I checked that box when you left. It was empty. You left the ring too."

"I sold ring in London," I said. "For milk."

Quiet.

Pearl, loop, pull.

"I wore grey scarf you made from bedsheet," I said, low. "When I had no coat. Leo wore it too. We shared one scarf."

His needle stopped.

"Aria—"

"Don't," I said. Cold queen mask back. "We are CEO and client now. As you said. Not wife."

He nodded. "As client."

But his hands kept sewing.

At 6 PM, we had finished one dress. One-shoulder, pearl slit, 40-hour pearls done in 8 hours because two hands.

It looked stronger than before. The cut turned into design.

Lorenzo held it up.

"She cut it to stop you. You made it look intentional."

"Let her cut," I said.

The loft door opened. Rhys. With food.

He saw us on floor. Me and Lorenzo. One dress between us. Pearls in both hands.

His face changed.

"I brought dinner," he said. "But I see you have help."

Lorenzo stood, still holding dress.

"Rhys, we were—"

"I know what you were," Rhys said. He put food on table. "Aria, you said where three can be three. But every time I come, it's you two and pearls."

Leo woke up from nap, ran out.

"Uncle Rhys! Mama and Dad made dress!"

Mama and Dad. In one sentence.

Rhys looked at Leo, then at me.

"Safe choice is still here," he whispered, loud enough for Lorenzo to hear. "But for how long?"

He kissed Leo's head and left.

Food on table untouched.

Lorenzo looked at me. "Should I go too?"

I looked at the dress. Then at Leo holding two red cars.

"No," I said. "Finish second dress. Paris is in 36 hours. Front row is waiting."

He sat back down.

Pearl, loop, pull.

Outside, white car was gone. But front row ticket was printed.

Paris next.