Chapter 85 CHAPTER 85
The Party
The morning dawned crisp, the sky painted in clean shades of blue streaked with soft white clouds. A mild breeze moved through the expansive garden of Ares’s estate, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass. Today, the place was transformed.
Streamers of bright colors, red, gold, and blue fluttered overhead, strung from one tree to another. A giant inflatable castle stood proudly at the far end of the garden, already squeaking under the weight of children bouncing inside. A clown in a painted face twisted balloons into animals while a group of girls giggled, clutching their creations.
It was the eighth birthday of the quadruplets, and the house seemed alive with joy.
Julian, dressed in a tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, gave instructions to the social workers.
“No, not there…shift the cake table to the left, closer to the shade,” he ordered, pointing with an authoritative finger. “And be careful with those balloons! If one pops now, you’ll scare the children before the show even starts.”
Ares, calmer, steadier, moved from station to station, checking every detail himself. His eyes scanned the arrangements with patience, ensuring nothing was overlooked. At one point, he bent to adjust a string of lights, his dark hair falling across his forehead. Straightening again, he gave a curt nod of approval to the workers, his presence alone enough to make them move faster.
The garden began to fill with sound, the thump of music from the speakers, the chatter of parents, and the high pitched laughter of children weaving between legs and tables. Neighbors arrived with their own little ones, drawn by the rare invitation to such a private event. Servants carried trays of drinks and snacks, passing carefully through the growing crowd.
The quadruplets themselves were the center of it all. Four little whirlwinds of energy, dressed in matching outfits of bright yellow and white. They darted through the party like sparks of sunlight, their laughter down through the garden as they tugged at Julian’s arm or tried to race each other to the bouncy castle.
“Papa! Papa, look!” one of them shouted, holding up a balloon animal shaped like a sword.
Ares’s lips twitched with something dangerously close to a smile as he patted his son’s head. “Be careful with that. Don’t poke your sister’s eye out.”
Julian chuckled, shaking his head. “They’re eight years old, Ares.”
The children’s shrieks rose higher as the music shifted to a playful tune. Games were being organized, musical chairs, sack races, a tug of war that drew laughter even from the adults. The estate, usually so quiet, pulsed with life.
And still, from a quiet corner, the Nun watched.
She sat beneath a wide umbrella, her habit blending into the shade, her face obscured by the way the light fell across her. She had accepted no food, no drink. Her presence was still, unmoving, almost spectral. Guests who passed gave her curious glances but said nothing. She was a presence not easily approached.
Her eyes, dark and sharp beneath the shadow of her veil, tracked everything. The children’s laughter, the precision of Ares’s movements, Julian’s constant vigilance. But most of all, she watched the workers, the strangers flowing in and out with trays, plates, and decorations.
Chloe’s hands tightened on the basket of cutlery she carried as the van pulled into the estate’s driveway. Her stomach had been twisting since morning, but now, as the iron gates swung open and the garden came into view, she felt her knees weaken.
“This is it!” Mr. Tanaka announced cheerfully from the front seat. “Our biggest event this year. Smile, everyone. And remember, professionalism!”
The other workers cheered softly, some adjusting their uniforms, others smoothing hair or checking trays. But Chloe’s breath hitched in her throat as her gaze landed on the sight before her.
The estate, the garden…then Ares.
Her heart stuttered painfully as she recognized him walking confidently among the guests, his hand briefly resting on the shoulder of one of the children before he turned to give orders.
She had not expected this. Of all the parties, of all the houses, of all the birthdays, it had to be his.
Her chest tightened as though the very air had turned against her. Her fingers gripped the basket so hard her knuckles went white.
“Chloe?” Mei, her cheerful coworker, nudged her gently. “You okay? You look pale.”
“I—” Chloe’s voice cracked before she forced herself to swallow. “I’m fine. Just… nervous.”
Mei laughed. “Don’t be! It’s just kids and cake. Nothing to worry about.”
She lowered her head quickly, letting her hair fall forward, though it did little to mask her features. Every step she took toward the garden. She could feel her pulse racing in her ears, loud enough she feared others might hear it.
They unloaded the supplies quickly, setting trays on long tables near the back. Chloe moved with the group, forcing her trembling hands to behave, but her eyes never strayed too far from Ares. She kept catching glimpses of him across the crowd, his presence impossible to ignore.
“Chloe, you’re sweating,” Mei whispered with a frown. “Here—take this.”
She pulled a gray hoodie from her bag, something she had brought in case the evening grew cold. “Tie it over your uniform if you want. It’ll make you less self conscious.”
Chloe took it with shaking hands. “Thank you.”
She slipped the hoodie over her head, tugging the hood low across her face. It was imperfect, but it gave her the illusion of safety. She clung to it desperately.
From across the garden, the Nun’s eyes slid toward the catering team. She saw the girl in the hoodie. She saw the nervous, darting glances. And though her face remained hidden, something in the angle of her posture suggested quiet amusement or suspicion.
The party rolled on, louder, brighter, happier. The children were now gathered near the cake table, their little hands clapping as entertainers set up a magic trick. Parents laughed, sipping wine, some recording videos on their phones. Music floated across the garden, carrying with it the illusion of safety.
“Bring the refreshments to the celebrants!” one of the senior staff instructed, his voice brisk. His eyes scanned the group of servers before landing on Chloe. “You—hoodie girl. Take this tray to the family table.”
Chloe froze. The tray was heavy with glasses of juice and small plates of finger foods, the kind meant to please children.
Her throat went dry. She wanted to protest, to beg someone else to do it. But Mr. Tanaka’s sharp gaze landed on her, expectant.
“Go on, Chloe,” he said firmly. “Don’t keep them waiting.”
Her feet felt nailed to the ground. But with everyone watching, she had no choice.
She took the tray, her hands trembling so violently she nearly spilled the drinks. She adjusted her grip, lowering her head so the hood shadowed her face.
Each step brought her closer to the table where the quadruplets sat, Ares standing just behind them, Julian to the side, watchful as ever.
The children laughed and clapped, oblivious. Ares glanced briefly at the approaching server, his expression unreadable, his attention returning to the decorations behind him.
Chloe could hear her heartbeat thundering louder than the music, louder than the laughter, louder than everything else.
She was almost at the table.