At Obsidian Peak, the city shimmered beneath the glass walls, traffic sliding through avenues in slow currents, rooftops flashing white under the early-afternoon glare. From the penthouse, it looked almost peaceful. Like a frozen postcard.
Ares didn't see any of it.
His attention was locked on his phone.
The message sat at the top of the screen.
Nanny:Sir, Larissa brought Shay to Luxxe. Fifth Floor. There's a sale. A woman nearly knocked her over.
Attached was an image.
He opened it.
Shay caught mid-stumble, a stranger's shoulder clipping her small frame. The angle made it look worse than it probably was—like she'd been shoved aside.
Ares frowned as his thumb hovered over the phone.
The photo was too clean, too perfectly timed.
Sarah always had a knack for catching moments that told the story she wanted, not necessarily the truth.
He didn't comment. Didn't text back. He just reached for the drawer. The remote clicked in his hand.
