Lauren emerged from the bathroom at 10:12, fully dressed in the crisp navy suit she had chosen earlier.
The tailored shirt hugged her frame beneath the structured blazer, trousers falling in sharp lines to her polished heels.
Her hair, still slightly damp, was combed back into a sleek, professional style that accentuated the sharp angles of her face. She moved with the same effortless authority, drying the last strands with a quick towel before tossing it aside.
"Bring accessories for me," she ordered flatly, voice carrying that unrelenting cold command. "And for yourself too. Matching. No mistakes."
Ryan stood frozen for half a second in the vast walk-in closet, heart pounding against his ribs. He nodded once, sharply, then turned to the organized drawers and shelves with careful, hesitant steps.
His vision remained blurry without glasses, forcing him to lean closer to distinguish shapes and colors.
He selected a slim silver watch, a pair of understated cufflinks, and a narrow leather belt for her items that matched the deep navy tones of her suit.
For himself he picked a simple black leather belt, plain silver cufflinks, and a basic watch with a dark strap, keeping everything neutral and coordinated so nothing would clash.
He returned quickly, holding the pieces out in his open palms like an offering, head slightly lowered.
His posture stayed submissive, shoulders curved inward, but he kept his body steady no unnecessary shaking, just the quiet tension of someone who knew one wrong choice could bring consequences.
Lauren took the accessories from him, inspecting each one with a critical eye.
She fastened the watch onto her wrist, slid the cufflinks into place, and secured the belt around her waist with precise movements. Only then did she glance at what he had chosen for himself and tilt her head slightly.
"How did you know what I would wear today?" Her tone was sharp, demanding an immediate answer without any softness.
Ryan's mouth opened, then closed once before words came out in a soft, stuttering rush. "I... I just observed… last day you wore these things according to black, so I brought according to this color now. The navy. I thought… it would match."
He kept his explanation brief and factual, eyes fixed on the blurred floor in front of him.
Lauren paused, studying him with that same icy scrutiny. The corner of her mouth didn't twitch with amusement or approval she simply processed the information, her ruthless mind already filing away the small detail of his observation.
The extreme difference between her commanding presence in the perfectly tailored suit and his fragile, uncertain stance in the borrowed clothes hung thick in the air, but she offered no praise, no acknowledgment beyond the next clipped order.
"Put yours on," she said coldly. "We leave in six minutes. Voss Tower won't wait because some weak boy can't keep up."
Ryan nodded again, murmuring a quiet "Yes, Mommy" under his breath when he remembered they were alone.
He fastened the belt around his trousers, slipped the cufflinks through his shirt cuffs, and secured the watch on his wrist with fumbling but determined fingers.
Every action was careful, deliberate, driven by the fear of wasting even a second of her time. The luxurious fabrics felt strange against his skin, a constant reminder of how far he had been pulled from his filthy apartment into her world of power and control.
Once finished, he stood straight as he could manage, hands clasped loosely in front of him, waiting for her approval or next command.
The air in the closet felt heavier now, charged with her dominance and his complete dependence. Lauren checked the time on her new watch, then turned toward the bedroom exit without another word, expecting him to follow instantly.
They left the penthouse and moved through the mansion's private corridors to the formal dining room on the upper floor.
Sunlight poured across the long marble table set for one, as it had been every single morning for years.
Lauren Voss never shared breakfast with anyone. Servants and guards knew the rule by heart: prepare the meal, place it precisely, then vanish. Today the table held two place settings.
The moment Ryan followed her in, every staff member in the room froze mid-motion.
A maid nearly dropped a silver tray. Two armed guards by the door exchanged the briefest glance before snapping their eyes straight ahead. No one dared look longer than a split second.
The ice queen had brought the fragile boy to her table. The air itself seemed to thicken with shock, yet not a single whisper broke the silence.
Lauren sat at the head of the table with her usual ruthless grace. Ryan hesitated, then lowered himself into the chair beside her, posture small and uncertain.
Without his glasses the gleaming plates and utensils blurred into confusing shapes. He had never used chopsticks or forks in his life; every meal back in the filthy apartment had been eaten with bare hands.
So he simply sat there, hands folded tightly in his lap, staring down at the polished marble.
Lauren picked up her own chopsticks and began eating with precise, elegant movements. After two bites she set them down and looked at him coldly.
"Start."
Ryan's shoulders tightened. His voice came out soft and hesitant. "I'm… not hungry."
The lie hung in the air for less than a second. Lauren's eyes narrowed, her tone turning to frozen steel.
"You know I hate lies."
Ryan nodded fast, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He kept his gaze fixed on the blurred floor. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I just… I don't know how to use any of this. I've only ever eaten with my hands. I didn't want to embarrass you in front of everyone."
Lauren studied him for a long moment, her expression remaining utterly cold and unreadable.
Then, without a word, she picked up a piece of perfectly cooked omelette with her chopsticks, dipped it lightly in sauce, and held it out toward his mouth.
"Open."
Ryan's eyes widened slightly, but he obeyed instantly, parting his lips. She fed him the bite with clinical detachment, as if teaching a child.
The servants' eyes went wide across the room; one guard's hand actually twitched on his holster before he caught himself. No one had ever seen Lauren Voss feed anything but bullets to anyone.
The contrast was jarring: the most feared woman in the city calmly feeding the weakest, most vulnerable boy she had ever taken in, while her entire staff stood paralyzed in disbelief.
She continued without pause, picking up small portions of fruit, rice, and vegetables, bringing each one to his mouth with the same ruthless patience.
Ryan chewed quietly, eyes still lowered, murmuring a barely audible "thank you" after every bite. His hands remained in his lap; he made no attempt to touch the utensils himself.
Lauren's voice stayed low and commanding each time she corrected his posture or told him to swallow properly, treating him like an infant in front of her hardened men and women.
Halfway through the meal she lifted a small piece of grilled fish to his lips and said flatly, "Chew slowly. You're shaking inside even if you hide it. Eat properly or I'll make this take twice as long."
Ryan nodded quickly, accepting the food from her hand again. The servants exchanged another lightning-fast glance of pure shock before forcing their faces blank.
Lauren never once softened her expression. She fed him methodically, bite after bite, until his plate was empty and her own was nearly finished. Only when the last piece disappeared between his lips did she set the chopsticks down with a quiet click.
"Better," she stated, tone ice-cold. "From tomorrow you will learn to use the utensils yourself. I will not repeat lessons."
Ryan kept his eyes on the table, voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Mommy."
The staff remained motionless, trays and plates held perfectly still, not one of them daring to breathe too loudly. Lauren rose from her chair exactly on schedule, smoothing her navy blazer.
"We're leaving for Voss Tower in three minutes. Follow."
Ryan stood immediately, still tasting the expensive breakfast on his tongue, the memory of being fed from her hand burning in his chest with fresh shame.
He trailed after her without another word, the heavy silence of the dining room following them out.