I let her chatter wash over me, focusing on the traffic, on the route, on not falling apart before we even got there.
We arrived at Dubois Industries early, before most employees. The lobby was quiet, just the security guard at his desk and the distant hum of the building waking up.
I signed Zoe in as a visitor, explaining to the guard that she was my daughter, that I'd had a childcare emergency, and that she'd only be here for the day. He looked at me with something that might have been sympathy and waved us through.
The elevator ride felt endless. Zoe bounced on her toes, excited by the buttons, by the numbers climbing, by the whole adventure of it.
"Are we going to the top, Mommy?"
"Almost. The twenty-seventh floor."
"That's so high. Can we see the whole city?"
"You'll see."
The executive floor was empty when we stepped off the elevator. No assistants at their desks, no executives in their offices, just silence and expensive carpet and the faint smell of coffee from the break room.
Perfect.
I led Zoe down the hall, checking around each corner, feeling like a criminal sneaking through a heist movie. The break room was at the end of the corridor, a decent-sized space with a kitchenette, a few tables, and a couch in the corner that was mostly hidden from the door.
"This is spy headquarters," I told Zoe, keeping my voice low. "This is where you'll wait while Mommy does her mission."
Her eyes went wide. "It's perfect."
I set her up. Coloring books were spread on the coffee table, arranged so she could reach everything without getting up. Tablet propped against a stack of napkins, headphones plugged in and ready. Snacks lined up in order of preference: cookies first, because she'd earned them, then crackers, then fruit. Blanket draped over the couch cushions, making a little nest.
Zoe settled into her spot and looked up at me, waiting for instructions.
I knelt down so we were eye to eye. "Okay, baby. This is very important. You need to stay here. Don't come out unless Mommy comes to get you. No matter what. Can you do that?"
She nodded. "No matter what."
"If anyone comes in, just stay quiet. You're invisible. You're the best spy in the whole world, and no one can see you."
"I'm invisible," she repeated. I kissed her forehead, smoothed her hair, and turned to leave.
At the door, I looked back. She was already reaching for her coloring book, settling into her mission.
I took a breath, walked to my desk, and tried to act normal.
The morning was torture.
Every footstep in the hallway made my pulse spike. Every voice raised in conversation sounded like someone discovering my daughter. I flinched at closing doors, at ringing phones, at the distant ding of the elevator arriving on our floor.
I checked on Zoe every thirty minutes, inventing excuses to walk past the break room.
First trip: I needed to refill my water bottle. I took the long way, the one that passed the break room door. A quick glance inside. Zoe was coloring, tongue poking out in concentration, completely absorbed. She looked up when she saw me and waved. I waved back and kept walking.
"Getting more water?" Margaret appeared at my elbow, coffee mug in hand. "You must be thirsty today."
"Staying hydrated," I said, and smiled, hoping she couldn't hear my heart hammering against my ribs.
Second trip: I needed a file from the storage closet, which happened to be near the break room. Another glance. Zoe had moved on to her tablet, headphones clamped over her ears, watching something that made her giggle silently. She didn't see me this time. I didn't wave.
Third trip: Bathroom. The one near the break room, not the closer one by my desk. I ducked inside just long enough to see Zoe eating crackers and looking out the window, content, calm, completely unaware that her mother was slowly losing her mind.
At 9:30, Xavier arrived.
