Intrigued, Adrian stepped closer. His eyes locked with Elara’s for a passing instant.
But what jolted him wasn’t her.
It was the baby strapped to her chest.
A child. At that height. Cleaning windows.
The sight hit him like a fist: harshness and tenderness fused together. Her risking everything for something real. Him drowning in sterile privilege.
It wasn’t pity. It was recognition. A spark of humanity shaking awake.
Mason’s tiny smile, reflected in the glass, cracked something inside him.
This isn’t normal, he thought, throat tight. My life until now… has been an illusion.
Elara paused, placing her palm against the glass. Mason stirred awake and slapped his tiny hand where hers rested—two worlds separated by glass, but joined by something invisible.
Adrian felt the ground shift beneath him.
“Find out who she is,” he ordered sharply.
THE RIFT
Night swallowed the city. Lights glittered. Neighborhoods outside the wealthy district dimmed into shadows.
Elara rocked Mason to sleep, thinking about the impossible distance between her world and his.
One day, baby. One day we won’t be looking up from so far below.
Meanwhile, Adrian paced his penthouse. In his hands: a dossier.