LAYLA’S POV
"You look like you’re going to an execution, not a board eting," Duke Silas said. We had gone to see him that morning before heading to the office, and honestly, I had no idea we would get so comfortable together, considering we’re just getting to know each other.
He was watching adjust the lapels of my white blazer in the mirror of the penthouse foyer.
I ran my hand over the fabric, making sure it looked perfect. I glanced at my reflection. I looked cold, and untouchable. It was exactly the armour I needed.
"Considering the board wants to discuss the ’stability’ of the company following your death," I said, applying a final coat of red lipstick, "an execution might be on the agenda. Mine."
"Then don’t let them lead you to the scaffold," the Duke said from his armchair, where Pennyworth was pouring him tea. "You are a Huntington now, Layla. We don’t beg for authority. We assu it."
"He’s right," Axel said, walking into the room. He was dressed in his usual dark suit, checking his watch. "Charles tried to rattle you with that trip to the Hamptons. He failed. Now the board is going to try to rattle you with doubts about your focus. Don’t let them see a grieving granddaughter. Let them see a CEO."
I took a deep breath. "I’m not rattled; I’m annoyed."
"Good," Axel said, opening the door for me. "Annoyed is productive."
"And intimidating," the Duke added with a slight smile. "Channel that."
"Well, thank you, grandfather." I winked at him.
—
The conference room was dead silent when I walked in.
Twenty n and won in expensive suits sat around the long mahogany table. At the far end sat Marcus Sterling, the board mber who had always believed Eclipse should have been sold to a conglorate years ago.
"Mrs. O’Brien," Sterling said, not bothering to stand. "We were just discussing the volatility of the last few days. And your sudden absence yesterday."
I didn’t sit down. I walked to the head of the table, placing my phone face down on the glass surface.
"My absence was a personal matter, Marcus," I said, projecting my voice clearly. "One that has been resolved."
"Has it?" William Chen, another board mber, asked, leaning back in his chair. "The market is jittery, Layla. Investors are concerned. You’ve just lost your grandfather, a man you only recently connected with. The funeral was a global spectacle. There are whispers that perhaps... you are distracted."
He let the word hang in the air for a few seconds.
"Grief is a heavy burden," Sterling’s voice softened a bit. "Especially when combined with the pressure of the upcoming Q4 expansion. Perhaps it would be wise to appoint an interim Co-CEO. Soone to shoulder the operational load while you err... process your loss. We wouldn’t want your personal tragedy to become a corporate liability."
I looked at him and gathered my strength. I thought of the Duke and Axel, drawing from their confidence and tapping into every bit of coolness I had within me.
"Distracted?" I repeated with a cold smile on my lips. "Interesting theory."
I leaned forward, placing my hands flat on the table.
"Let’s look at the facts, shall we? While the world was watching that funeral, traffic to the Eclipse online store increased by 400%. The ’spectacle,’ as you call it, has put our brand na in every major publication in three different continents. Social dia engagent is up 600%. We’ve gained two million new followers across all platforms in three days."
I tapped the screen on the wall, and a graph appeared, showing a sharp spike in sales over the last 72 hours.
"The passing of my grandfather hasn’t made a liability, Marcus. It has made Eclipse the only beauty brand in the world owned by a Duchess. I am not ’distracted’ by my heritage; I am leveraging it. The new collection isn’t just makeup anymore; it’s royalty."
I straightened up, smoothing my blazer.
"I don’t need a Co-CEO to help grieve. I need this board to approve the budget increase to et the new demand. Unless anyone else would like to question my emotional state?"
Silence.
Sterling cleared his throat, looking down at his papers, his face flushing slightly. "No... no questions. The... numbers speak for themselves."
"Good," I said crisply. "Because while you were preparing this little intervention, I was preparing to secure a partnership with Harrods and Selfridges. While the discussions haven’t started yet, I’m quite confident about how well they will go."
More silence. A few board mbers exchanged glances and I finally sat down, crossing my legs.
"Excellent. Let’s get to work."
—
If the board eting was a battle, the evening was a parade.
We had received an invitation to the Vanderbilt Gala weeks ago that I had almost forgotten about. It was the highlight of the sumr social calendar, a black-tie affair raising money for the arts.
Under normal circumstances, I would have skipped it. But hiding wasn’t an option; we had to show the world that life, and business went on.
"Smile," Axel murmured against my ear as we stepped onto the red carpet. Bright caras flashed. "Show them you’re unbothered."
I flashed my best dia smile, linking my arm through his. "I hate this."
"I know," Axel said, guiding past the reporters shouting questions. "But the champagne is free."
"You’re talking like you can’t have a truck filled with the most expensive champagnes if you want."
"I can, but still... who says no to free champagne?"
"Mrs O’Brien! How are you coping with the loss?"
"Will you be taking on the Duke’s title officially?"
"Is it true you’re considering relocating Eclipse Beauty to London?"
I ignored them all, keeping my smile on as we walked into the venue.
We made our rounds. I shook hands, accepted condolences about the Duke, and ignored the whispers about the "Tragic Duchess."
An hour later, the orchestra started a slow waltz.
"Dance with ," Axel said, taking my glass of untouched champagne and setting it on a passing tray.
"Axel, everyone is watching," I whispered.
"Let them watch," he said, pulling onto the floor. "It sells the ’devoted husband’ narrative. Charles will hate it if he sees the photos."
He pulled close, placing his hand on my waist. We moved in ti to the music, the crowd blurring into a background of diamonds and tuxedos. For a mont, amidst the danger and the politics, it felt... nice. Safe.
"You were good today," Axel said quietly. "Sterling looked like he swallowed a lemon when you walked out of that eting."
"He’s a dinosaur," I said, resting my head near his shoulder. "I just want this week to be over. Between the funeral, the Hamptons scare, and the board... I’m exhausted."
Axel spun slowly. "Well, you better save so energy. We have another event coming up in six days."
I pulled back slightly to look at him with furrowed eyebrows. "What? I checked the calendar. There’s nothing on the schedule for Saturday. No galas, no etings, no product launches."
"Not on the company calendar," Axel said with amusent in his eyes. "But unless you’ve decided to stop ageing, your birthday is on Saturday."
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