Chapter 27: The Fifth Floor

At the top floor of the Obsidian Peak building, Ares stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, the city sprawling beneath him in glass and steel.

Lara’s calm and precise voice still lingered faintly through the speaker. Not the flustered questions of a careless nanny.

He didn’t answer immediately. He was still baffled by how an amnesiac person could demand such information; he himself had not given it to Shay’s previous nannies.

Across the room, Jack paused at the doorway, sensing the silence stretch longer than usual.

It was an odd set of concerns for a childcare worker. But they were the right ones.

Not once had she sounded afraid. Only confident and prepared.

“I’ll send you their photos,” Ares said at last. “You’ll be able to recognize every guard assigned to her.”

He ended the call. Then he picked up his phone and opened the security app.

The LED wall mounted across his desk flickered to life, splitting into several live feeds.

The camera inside Shay’s car came into focus.

Lara was fastening Shay’s seatbelt, checking the straps with careful hands, tugging once to make sure it held. After settling the girl comfortably, she didn’t relax.

Her gaze swept the interior. Doors. Windows. Locks.

It was not the same car they used in the morning. But then, they went with Ares, so that Bentley must be his, and this one was specifically for Shay, a Volvo XC90 —very convenient for the child’s use.

She was methodical and alert. She tested the handle beside her, then glanced toward the driver’s mirror, quietly mapping every detail of the car’s interior as if it were second nature, as if she was trained her whole life for that.

“Interesting,” Ares murmured.

Then—

She looked up. Straight into the hidden camera. Straight into a pair of invisible obsidian orbs.

For a brief second, her hazel eyes that turned amber in the midday sun met the lens. Clear, steady, and unwavering. Not shy nor curious but assessing.

As if she knew someone might be watching behind the lens—and she didn’t mind being seen.

Ares’s fingers stilled against the desk.

His breath caught before he realized it had.

A close-up of her face filled the screen for five seconds. Then she looked away and continued checking on Shay like nothing had happened.

But something about that gaze lingered.

What a composed and sharp gaze. Ares thought. Nothing like the timid, grateful employee I have expected.

He didn’t even notice Jack had stepped closer until the man spoke.

“Boss,” Jack said, staring at the screen with open admiration, “she’s really beautiful. What lovely eyes.”

Ares didn’t respond.

Jack grinned. “Do you think I’ve got a chance if I pursue her?”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Ares’s voice came out cool and flat.

“Try it,” he said, eyes never leaving the screen, “and you’re fired.”

Jack straightened instantly. “…Understood, Sir.” Of course, he knew he would not get a chance.

…

Atrium rose out of the heart of Lanura like a cathedral of glass and money.

Five floors of marble, chrome, and filtered sunlight. Designer banners hanging like flags of conquest. The kind of place where the air smelled faintly of the aroma one could smell in spas and hotels.

Lara stepped through the revolving doors first, with Shay by her side.

Sarah followed, and Benny trailed behind them, quiet and watchful in his dark suit, already scanning exits, elevators, routes. Years of driving for the wealthy had trained him to memorize places like this on instinct. His employers never waited.

Neither did Lara.

Luxxe dominated the atrium’s center — all glass walls and gold lettering. The kind of department store that didn’t show prices unless you asked.

“The children’s designer line is on the third floor,” Sarah said automatically, glancing at the directory.

Lara didn’t look up. She already knew.

She had studied the mall’s layout during the drive.

Inside the elevator, instead of pressing 3, she hit 5.

The doors slid shut.

Sarah frowned. “Larissa… why are we going to the fifth floor?”

Lara’s reflection in the mirrored wall was cool and sharp. “Because that’s where we’re shopping.”

“But the premium kids’ brands are—”

Lara shot her an icy glare.

“I said fifth.”

The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

Sarah fell quiet.

The elevator doors slid open—and the noise hit first.

Not the soft, expensive quiet of the lower floors.

This was louder. Messier.

Metal racks packed close together. Sale signs shouting in red. Children whining, sneakers squeaking, hangers clattering like loose change. The air smelled less like perfume and more like plastic wrap and new fabric.

Bodies instead of space.

Bulk instead of luxury.

Atrium marketed itself as exclusive, but the owner wasn’t foolish enough to ignore where real money came from. The middle class didn’t buy one perfect thing.

They bought ten.

This floor paid the bills.

Sarah stopped at the threshold like she’d stepped into something dirty.

“The fifth floor is beneath our little princess,” she muttered, tightening her grip on her bag. “We should be on the third.”

She didn’t move. Her eyes scanned the crowd as if someone might recognize them.

“If her classmates see her shopping here…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They’ll bully her even more. This will shame the Zuvel name.”

Lara didn’t even slow down. She took Shay’s hand and walked straight into the boy’s section.

“Clothes are clothes,” she said coolly. “She’s not buying a reputation. She’s buying something for someone to wear.”

Then she turned to Shay, “Pick what you like.”

Shay’s face lit up like a sparkler.

She darted between racks, holding up shirts—red, blue, yellow—matching pants, laughing every time she found a new combination. No stylists. No frills. Just a kid being a kid.

Lara moved fast. She and Shay selected six shirts. Three pants and three shorts. A pair of sandals, a pair of rubber shoes, and one pair of black leather shoes for the school’s formal events.

An hour later, Benny and Sarah were loaded with glossy shopping bags.

Lara carried only Shay.

Sarah’s arms shook under the weight. “Larissa, maybe you could take a few—”

“I’m the governess,” Lara cut her off, not even looking at her. “Not the nanny. And I’m taking care of Shay.”

The dismissal was effortless.

Final.

Sarah forced a smile.

“Okay, then.”

But as she trailed behind them, she slipped out her phone and typed a quick message.

Someone would hear about this and take care of it.

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