Executive Floor

The executive floor of Aurelius Luxe was quieter than the rest of the building, but the silence carried weight.

Assistants moved quickly between offices; their voices instinctively dropped the moment Dylan appeared. When the elevator doors opened, Praise felt the old atmosphere settle around him like a familiar coat.

This was the floor Vanel Lense spent seven years trying to prove himself. And now, he walked down its halls under a different name.

“Stay close.” Dylan moved ahead without looking back.

“Yes, sir.” Praise followed him into the private office.

The next hour found him organizing documents while Dylan worked, answering calls and signing papers with the same controlled precision that had once decided Vanel’s fate.

 Everything in the room remained unchanged; from the black marble, to the enormous windows overlooking the rainy city, and the company insignia behind the CEO’s desk.

Only he had changed.

Dylan eventually looked up. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I was instructed not to speak unless necessary.” A faint, almost reluctant smile touched Dylan’s mouth.

 “You remember everything I say.”

“I make it my business to.” Dylan studied him for several seconds.

 “You’re strange, Renard.” Praise’s fingers tightened around the folder in his hands.

“Is that a complaint?”

“No, it’s an observation.”

The silence returned, just then, Dylan’s phone rang. His expression shifted the moment he answered. “Send the report to my private server,” he ordered. “And make sure nobody else sees it.”

He ended the call and stood. “I’ll be back.” The door closed behind him.

Praise waited only a few seconds before his attention shifted to the desk. A black folder sat partially buried beneath several documents. There was no label, but a name printed across the corner stopped his breath.

VANEL LENSE. It was the same as the file he had seen at his office in the house.

He knew one thing for a fact now; someone had been monitoring Vanel long before his public termination. A faint sound came from the doorway, which made him flinch.

Dylan stood there. His gray eyes dropped immediately to the file in Praise’s hands. Neither man spoke. Dylan slowly closed the door behind him.

“Put it down.”

Praise obeyed, but he did not look away. “Who wanted Vanel Lense gone?”

Dylan’s expression hardened. “That isn’t your concern.”

“You said the same thing last night.”

Dylan took a step forward. “I will ask again…” He mumbled. “How do you know his name?”

Praise’s heart slammed against his ribs. He had prepared for this moment, yet preparation felt useless beneath Dylan’s suspicious gaze.

“Everyone in the fashion industry knew about him.” Dylan stopped directly in front of him.

“Not like that. You said his name as though you knew him.” Praise felt his carefully constructed identity begin to crack. Just then, Dylan asked the question he had feared most.

“Who are you really, Praise Renard?”

Praise forced a calm smile. “Your new butler.”

He stepped around Dylan and trod off toward the door. Dylan remained completely still behind him. His gaze returned to the open file and the photograph of the man who had supposedly died seven months ago.

Vanel Lense.

He stared at the photograph for several long seconds. Then his eyes lifted toward the door Praise had disappeared through.

An impossible thought crossed his mind. What if Vanel Lense hadn’t died? And what if the man standing outside his office knew far more than he was willing to admit?

Dylan’s jaw tightened. “Renard…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Who the hell are you?”