Chapter 2: The Ninth Floor
The elevator carriage ascended in smooth, quiet silence, the digital floor numbers glowing a dim amber against the brushed steel walls. Ethan kept Lily pressed securely against his chest, one hand supporting her legs while the other gripped the bouquet of red roses so tightly that the green paper crinkled. The little girl had finally quieted down, her heavy eyelids fluttering as exhaustion began to overtake her small frame. She had not asked where they were going or why they had traveled so far with only a backpack and a handful of belongings. She trusted her father implicitly, and that quiet, absolute trust was both a comfort and a crushing weight upon his shoulders.
When the elevator chimed softly and the doors slid open, Ethan stepped out onto the plush, sound-dampening carpet of the ninth floor. The hallway was dimly lit, lined with dark wood paneling and tasteful wall sconces that cast a warm, golden glow. The air smelled faintly of fresh lemon polish and expensive wool. Walking carefully so as not to wake Lily, Ethan navigated the numbering system until he reached the heavy mahogany door marked with the brass digits 904.
He retrieved the keycard from his pocket, pressed it against the electronic lock, and waited for the sharp green light to flash before pushing the door open. Suite 904 was astonishingly spacious. A wide entryway opened into a sunlit sitting room furnished with velvet armchairs, a polished oak coffee table, and tall windows that offered an expansive view of the city skyline below. A king-sized bed sat neatly in the adjoining alcove, draped in crisp white linens that caught the late-afternoon light. It was far more luxurious than anything Ethan could typically afford, which only heightened the gnawing sense of unease in his stomach.
Ethan carried Lily over to the plush bed, gently peeling back the heavy duvet and laying her down. She curled into a small ball immediately, her pink sweater a bright splash of color against the stark white sheets. Ethan placed the bouquet of red roses carefully on the nightstand next to a small brass reading lamp. He stood over her for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from her forehead.
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There was a soft knock at the door. Ethan froze, his hand lingering near his daughter's face before he turned around slowly. He walked across the soft carpet, approached the heavy wooden door, and pulled it open a few inches, his instincts instantly on high alert.
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