The Mythos Group headquarters was larger than Rochefort Group.
Franz noticed this before they even reached the entrance. The building rose into the Rohan skyline in a column of glass and steel, its facade catching the morning light and throwing it back in sheets of gold. Taller than anything in Montclair’s financial district. More modern. More imposing. The kind of building that didn’t need a sign.
They entered through the VIP lobby: a private space with its own security checkpoint, its own elevators, its own particular hush. The guards recognized Arianne immediately. They nodded and stepped back, and the family moved through without a single question.
"This is like a movie," Lily whispered, eyes wide. "A spy movie. Are we spies?"
"We’re visiting your Mommy Aria’s office," Franz said.
"Same thing."
The elevator was all glass and chrome, the ascent so smooth Franz barely felt it. The floor numbers climbed past levels he couldn’t begin to assign a purpose to. Lily counted them under her breath. Leo watched the lights change, the whale tucked under his arm.
When the doors opened onto the highest floor, the first thing Franz saw was the city.
The entire outer wall was glass. Floor to ceiling, running the length of the corridor, it framed Rohan like a painting that moved. Towers rose in every direction. The port was visible in the distance, ships crossing the blue water. The streets below were so far down that the cars looked like toys.
"I can’t see anyone," Lily said, pressing her face to the glass. "The cars are so small. Are those really cars?"
"They’re really cars," Arianne said.
"They look like toys."
"That’s because we’re very high up."
"How high up?"
"High enough that you shouldn’t press your face against the glass like that."
Lily stepped back. Leo, who had been about to do the same thing, reconsidered.
A woman approached them: late thirties, sharp navy suit, dark hair pinned back, a tablet in one hand. She moved with the efficiency of someone who had been managing complex schedules for years.
"Chairwoman." She addressed Arianne with a brisk nod. "Your morning meeting is in fifteen minutes. The quarterly reports have been prepared. Mr. Chen asked me to let you know he’s available after ten."
"Thank you, Mildred." Arianne turned. "This is Mildred, my assistant. Mildred, this is my husband, Franz. Our children, Lily and Leo."
Something moved through Mildred’s eyes: recognition, or the professional management of surprise. "Welcome to Mythos Group. It’s an honor." She turned to Aunt Estella, and her manner changed entirely. "Estella. It’s been too long."
"It has," Estella said warmly. "You look well."
"As do you. I’ll have tea sent up later. We should catch up."
"I’d like that very much."
Arianne turned to Franz. "I have a meeting. It shouldn’t be more than an hour. Will you and the children be all right in my office?"
"We’ll be fine," Franz said. "Go. Do your chairwoman things."
She gave him the look: the one that meant she registered the teasing and was declining to engage, and followed Mildred down the corridor.
The office was at the end of the hall. Spacious, minimalist: a large desk near the window with nothing on it except a laptop and a single framed photograph of the twins. A sitting area. A television tuned to the morning news. The floor-to-ceiling windows continued from the corridor, offering the same unbroken view of the city.
"This is Mommy Aria’s office?" Lily turned in a slow circle. "It’s bigger than her office at home."
"Your Mommy Aria is a very important person," Franz said.
"I know. But it’s really big."
Leo had already settled on the couch, the whale in his lap, watching the news with his usual focused attention.
Franz was at the window, taking in the view, when he heard voices outside the door. Not loud. A murmur. The particular sound of people trying to contain themselves.
He opened the door.
A cluster of employees had gathered in the corridor: young women mostly, in business attire, their expressions caught between nervousness and barely contained excitement. Mildred was in front of them with her hands raised, not quite succeeding at calming anyone down.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Rochefort," she said. "I told them to wait, but—"
"Is it really him?" one of the women whispered, not low enough. "Is it Noah Hart?"
Franz stepped into the corridor. "I was looking for the pantry, actually. The twins want something to drink."
The women stared. One of them made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a squeak.
"It’s really him," another one breathed. "Oh my god."
Mildred sighed. "I apologize. They’re usually professional."
"It’s fine." Franz smiled: the easy, practiced smile of someone who had been doing this for years. "Would anyone like an autograph? I have a few minutes while my wife is in her meeting."
The sound that followed was entirely unprofessional. Franz found he didn’t mind.
He signed for the next ten minutes. The employees came forward one by one: nervous, stammering, clutching notebooks or company letterhead or, in one memorable case, the back of a cafeteria receipt. They asked about The Second Cut. Would there be a third season? He told them honestly there was no news yet. They asked about his break from work. He said he was enjoying time with his family. They asked if he liked Rohan. He said he was loving it.
The crowd had grown: word moving through the building, more faces appearing at the corridor’s edge, when Harvey arrived.
He came around the corner with Angelika a step behind him, and the effect was immediate. The employees straightened. The chatter died. Within seconds the corridor had emptied, the last of the autograph seekers retreating to their desks with murmured thanks.
"I heard the chairwoman brought important guests," Harvey said. "I came to offer a tour." He held out a small wrapped box. "And to deliver this. For the baby. I promised."
Franz took it. "You didn’t have to."
"I know. I wanted to." Harvey looked at the empty corridor. "I see you’ve met the staff."
"They were very friendly."
"They’re very excited. Noah Hart in the building isn’t something that happens every day."
"I’m the chairwoman’s husband."
"You’re both." Harvey turned toward the office. "Are the twins free? The tour is more interesting with an audience."