"Haven't you learned anything yet?"

"Apparently not."

Jupiter threw up her hands and exaggeratedly gave her mom space, letting her swoop in with the "correct" polish. Within seconds the scuff that had adorned the marble statue—courtesy of a rather nasty man who, it seemed, hadn't liked Titus' "tone"—disappeared, the only evidence of its existence in the weary hand Aleksa drew across her brow. She straightened with an expression that could have been either a grimace of pain or a scowl at Jupiter.

Or both.

"Don't," Jupiter said, forestalling the lecture. "I get it. Really. This is me, paying attention. Now gimme the mop or we're gonna be here even longer, okay?"

'Longer' was somewhat relative. As Jupiter dragged the bucket as far from her mom's side of the lobby as she could, she noted that the Chicago skyline was entirely dark now. It wasn't the first time they'd stayed late for work, and no doubt it wouldn't be the last. Ms. Seraphi had a… thing about her clients seeing the help, and it left a lot of work to do when everyone else had left. More often than not Jupiter spent her days cleaning unused storage rooms, so abandoned they hadn't even gathered dust to clean. The monotony was made worse by their uniformity: every room was stacked floor to ceiling with the same, octagonal canisters, each bearing the label "RegeneX," as well as an infinity symbol, Ms. Seraphi's signature.

"No 'Mrs. Abrasax' around here," Aleksa had told Jupiter, five minutes into her first day on the job. "Not where she can hear, at least. It makes her sound old." She sniffed. "And this industry isn't about the aged, now is it?"

Jupiter remembered looking down at her mom's spotted hands, wrinkled beyond their years from chemicals and endless scrubbing. They'd gripped the duster forcefully, almost daring Jupiter to comment. She had of course, later, non-verbally in the act of shaking a canister playfully in her mom's face. It had been slapped away—as Jupiter half expected it would be—and she hadn't brought it up again since. She also hadn't touched the stuff herself.

"You're only twenty-five!" Katherine had laughed once.

"So are you."

"You'll want it some day," she'd continued, completely ignoring the hypocrisy. "C'mon, Jups. Imagine perfect skin into your nineties. No arthritis, muscle aches a thing of the past. And it's free for all employees! Even—uh…"

"Even the cleaning crew," Jupiter had finished, poking Katherine quick so she'd know she hadn't taken offense. "I hear you. I mean, part of it is kinda appealing I guess… but if Mom doesn't need it, why should I? I'm not insecure about my looks."

Katherine had stared. "Everyone's insecure," she's said and tottered back behind the counter, high-heels clicking.

Okay… so maybe Jupiter was a little insecure. But only a smidge. After all, her hair always became a rat's nest halfway through her shift, their uniforms weren't exactly flattering (one more reason Ms. Seraphi wanted them silent and invisible—they sharply contrasted the otherwise pervasive, fashionable excellence of Abrasax Industries), and if truth be told, smelling like lemon cleaner wasn't the sexiest thing in the world. At least it covered up the sweat.

Jupiter subtly sniffed her underarm and shrugged.

"Still here?"

Speaking of Katherine, the lady herself sauntered out of the boardroom, looking just a tad bit peaky. She was wearing a different dress than the Chiffon she'd sported all those years ago, but the heels were still the same: three inch, black, strappy, her entire weight balanced on impossibly thin points. Jupiter grinned though at the wobble that had snuck into Katherine's gait. It had been a long day all around.

"Yeah," she finally answered. Jupiter followed Katherine back towards her desk. "Balem went through a whole tray of glasses today. I spent most of the afternoon getting the glass out of the carpet." Jupiter held up her hand as evidence, tiny nicks dotting the skin.

Katherine grimaced in sympathy.

"Emails," she shot back. "Fuck it all, Jupes. I need Mal back and I need him now."

Katherine was only one rung up on the totem pole from Jupiter—making her the only person in the building willing to speak with her (not in a shout or impersonal order, at least). Her job had always been to manage the front desk, to direct clients here and there… to otherwise look pretty. Katherine—lean, blonde, and perfectly manicured—was good at looking pretty. Organization? Not so much.

So when Kalique had dumped an iPad and planner in her lap a week ago, the squeak that had escaped Katherine's mouth was worth its weight in teasing material. Maledictes, Kalique's personal assistant, had left briefly on related business, leaving poor Katherine to pick up the pieces. Only her elder brother rivaled Kalique in work ethic, so there was plenty for Katherine to wade through daily. The reams of notebook paper she hefted onto the desk attested to that.

Jupiter gaped. "Is all that…?"

"Phone numbers," Katherine confirmed. "They're mostly from potential clients, but there are a few wannabe business partners in there too. Ha, like Ms. Seraphi would ever split the company. You know, one guy called around lunch claiming to be Mr. Seraphi. Right. Like we all don't know those kids were test-tube babies."

"Quiet!" Jupiter hissed, half laughing. There was no one around to hear though. Her mom had gone to finish the bathrooms. The only soul left was the security guard off by the entrance.

Katherine sullenly poked the pile. "Could get rid of a ton of these if they just distributed the stuff…"

"You know that's not gonna happen."

Abrasax Industries wasn't just the most profitable company this side of… well, Earth, it was also unique in its business practice. No drop of RegeneX had ever entered a store. The cream had never graced a web page. Their injections had never, and would never, be packaged and shipped. Anyone who wished to purchase the miracle cure had to come to one specific spot: here. All potential clients were screened by either Ms. Seraphi or one of her three kids and anyone could be turned away for any reason, not matter how inconsequential. Jupiter had seen clients thrown out because they made the mistake of propositioning Kalique (considered nearly as beautiful as her mother) or for notpropositioning Titus. Balem was particularly picky, yet he must have been doing something right because he maintained the highest client pool next to his mother. Most assumed that when the time came he would take control of the industry, maintaining the current client list. It was the most effective form of business and for all the problems the siblings had, business was the one thing they could agree on.

That was the only effective practice though. In theory, Abrasax Industries should have died out within a month of its venture. Who wanted to go to a single location for their product any more? Who was able to, especially if they lived out of state or country? The answer was anyone with the drive and the means, which catered exactly to the kind of clients Ms. Seraphi was interested in, those who were rich enough to afford RegeneX and the travel to get it. Those who had the power to wade through the screening process as well as the learned humility to beg for it. RegeneX was worth it.

"But why?" Jupiter had asked—another day, another length of carpeting to vacuum. She'd barely been able to hear herself over the noise. "Why not just sell RegeneX everywhere and get more money? Isn't that better?"

"Control!" Aleksa had shouted and then switched off her own vacuum. The sudden silence was deafening. "Jupiter. These people don't care about money—they have enough. What they want is power."

"Power?"

"They alone decide who remains young, strong, and beautiful. Person by person, they are determining the elite." Aleksa had stared hard at her daughter, her lips pulling back in disgust. "What greater power is there than that?"

Right. Jupiter really hadn't touched the stuff after that.

Even when Katherine continued to offer it.

"Want some?" she sighed, pulling out her jar of cream. Katherine immediately begin smoothing some over her hands, making sure to tuck the white stuff around her cuticles and in the creases of her palm. It was all preventative measures. Katherine didn't have a wrinkle to her name yet and even if she did, there was no doubt that she'd still be gorgeous. On nights like these where they were feeling particularly truthful, Katherine admitted that she'd only gotten this gig because of her looks. Ms. Seraphi wouldn't have anyone other than a beauty to greet her guests. Not a chance in hell.

Especially not when she offered her employees access to RegeneX. Determining the elite indeed. That started right in the hiring process.

Not that Jupiter could, or ever would, judge. She was only here because of her looks too.

In a manner of speaking.

"Nah," Jupiter said, waving the jar away. Katherine had already been tucking it back into its drawer. "How much longer you staying?"

"Ah… thirty seconds?" With a grin Katherine swept the papers into another empty drawer, locking it all away, and swung her purse up over her arm. She debated only a moment before bending and pulling her heels off, tipping them over her other shoulder. Katherine padded across the tile with a sigh.

"Don't let your mom keep you too long, k?"

"Yeah. Don't slip on the wet patch there."

"Mm hmm."

Jupiter watched Katherine leave, the security guard holding the door for her solemnly. He didn't ogle her behind or "stretch" to get a whiff of her perfume. In fact, Jupiter couldn't remember a time she'd seen either of the interior guards checking them out, which was one hell of an unexpected boon. The one on duty now—Slinger? Swinger?—had a daughter, she knew that much, but whether there was a partner in the mix she couldn't say. The other guy rarely left the top floors, so Jupiter only saw him infrequently. His name was…?

"Something or other," she muttered, depositing more water on the floor. "Another blonde I think. Huh…"

Jupiter stopped, leaning heavily on her mop. She spoke to her mom, Katherine spoke to her, most spoke with Katherine just because she was hot…but who spoke to the guards? No one, so far as she could tell. They stood silently at their posts, sometimes traversing the halls, mainly looking too intimidating to approach—which was probably how Ms. Seraphi liked it. Didn't seem fair though. Hell, Jupiter knew she'd nearly lost her mind more than once with only her mom for company. At least she got to move around while she cleaned.

Jupiter had just decided to approach this Slinger guy (Slinger, right? Had to be Slinger…) and strike up a conversation—maybe something awkwardly personal about whether he bothered with RegeneX or not—when a sudden crash sounded behind the main doors.

Slinger jumped too. His eyes caught hers with a startled expression.

"Fuck you and fuck your legalities!"

"Jupiter!"

Aleksa came barreling down the steps, nearly tripping over the rags she had trailing behind her. She slammed into her with a thud, arms wrapping around her waist protectively. Her breath puffed hard in Jupiter's ear.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know." Jupiter's mop clattered to the floor as another bang ripped through them. It sounded like a giant's punch, or a minor explosion, or someone toppling the decorative busts that lined the outside hall…

"Don't touch me!"

Slinger had his gun out, aimed at the floor and body turned sharply towards the door. He had one hand on the handle and he spared only the briefest glace at them, jerking his head to the side. Aleksa and Jupiter immediately ran behind him, shuffling not to slip on the wet floor. Jupiter waited until she was nearly pressed against his back to speak.

"That sounded like Balem," she puffed. "What the hell—"

The door flew open, knocking all of them off balance.

Balem had indeed stumbled into the lobby, followed by Titus, Kalique, and a skinny little man that Jupiter didn't recognize. What made her gasp though was the state he was in. The long, flowing pants he wore had been torn to shreds, a swing of momentum revealing a gash down his thigh and into his knee. Balem's black turtleneck was equally battered, grey smudges smearing the arms and the cuffs. His hair had lost its perfectly smoothed look, his jewelry was twisted or missing, and he had a wild look in his eyes that made Jupiter take three steps back. The rest of his face was covered in either blood from his head wound or what appeared to be soot. The only clean parts were messy lines down his cheeks—tear tracks.

"Don't," he whispered, his voice shaking horribly. "Don't, don't, don't you dare. Touch me again, sister, and I will rip your hand from its limb!"

"You're bleeding," Kalique said curtly. She didn't look at Balem though, but rather past him. Jupiter followed her gaze and found the statue she'd been cleaning earlier.

Titus said nothing at all.

"Sir?" Slinger still had one arm out to protect Jupiter and her mom. His other jerked between Balem and the door, as if he wasn't sure if he were waiting for a threat or if Balem was the threat.

"Holster your weapon, Mr. Apini," Kalique said. "We're fine here."

"We're not fine!" Balem shrieked. He pointed an accusatory finger at Kalique. "This is your fault. Oh yes. You drove her to this!"

"Drove her? How does one orchestrate an accident, Balem?"

"Accident…"

Balem said the word like he didn't understand its meaning. He tasted it a minute on his lips and then smiled a slow, horrible smile. All at once his legs buckled and with a grunt Slinger dove to catch him. Balem hung limply in his arms, but he wasn't unconscious and Jupiter felt her mom squeezing her arm hard at the sight.

Yeah. She got it too. Balem didn't let anyone touch him, certainly not the staff. The one time a guard had dared to brush lint from his shoulder, Balem had thrown him bodily from the building, threatening worse if he were to ever show his face here again. Now though he almost curled into Slinger, his mouth agape and his stare focused on something none of them could see.

"Balem?" It took Jupiter a moment to realize that the tentative voice was her own.

"Ahem,"

They turned, finding the skinny man staring tentatively at the scene before him. He cleared his throat nervously again.

"Yes. Hello. Chicanery Night, the Abrasax family lawyer." He extended his hand to no one in particular and then quickly drew it back, wiping it across his shirt. "Yes… dreadful business. If Balem will not seek medical attention then perhaps you can treat him? I assume you know basic first aid?"

He was staring at Aleksa. Jupiter torqued her head to stare up at her mom. She looked about as shocked as Jupiter felt, but quickly gathered her bearings. Jupiter recognized the straightening of her shoulders, the thinning of her lips.

"Yes. All employees are required to train."

"I know," Chicanery simpered. He gestured at Balem with a get-on-with-it gesture. Aleksa dropped to his side.

If the previous insanity hadn't alerted Jupiter that something was quite wrong, this certainly did. Watching her mom press her hand to Balem's painfully thin wrist, brushing matted hair from his face to check the cut on his forehead… it was surreal. Jupiter tore her gaze from the spectacle and looked for anyone who'd bother to meet her eye.

"What happened?" she asked them all.

"There's much to discuss," Chicanery said, ignoring her. He dropped into a ridiculously elaborate bow. "Kalique? If I may?"

"Yes… the boardroom will suffice." Kalique's voice sounded faint, but her steps were strong. She passed her brother curled on the floor without a backward glance.

Right. Figures. Jupiter shared a quick look with Slinger and found him equally baffled, his hand still resting near his gun like he expected, even wanted to use it. Fat chance of that. No doubt the four of them had already forgotten that he and Jupiter existed, firm in their belief that the help shouldn't be privy to personal matters. Indeed, her mom was already guiding a dull-eyed Balem away and Kalique was leading the Chicanery fellow into the other room. Jupiter would just have to get the gossip from the rumor mill tomorrow. Or her mom, if she could get something out of the catatonic Balem…

With a last curious crane of her neck, Jupiter turned back to her supplies. She'd need to clean the mud and—God—blood off the floor before they left. And was she supposed to sweep whatever had shattered in the hall? Great. Still, she'd get in early tomorrow, talk to Katherine first thing, fill her in and see if she could pull any theories out of the other workers. Maybe they'd—

A sharp sound caught Jupiter's attention. She found Chicanery by the boardroom door, snapping his fingers at her.

"You too," he said.

Jupiter blinked. "What?"

"Hurry up, child," Kalique snapped and slipped inside before she could see Jupiter bristling. There wasn't that much of an age gap.

… the order caught up with her.

Jupiter looked to Slinger, blinked again, pointed at the door. "What?"

He shrugged, dazed.

"You're a part of this now."

Jupiter jumped straight up at the voice, soft and sounding from behind her. She whirled and found Titus still staring at the statue in the middle of the lobby. She'd nearly forgotten he was there.

Inching closer, as if in a dream, Jupiter really looked at the masterpiece situated in their hall. It was certainly impressive, an enormous marble carving that only worked with their high, arched ceiling. It was more than just a statue of course, more of a monument to one woman and the empire she'd built. Today was far from the first time she and her mom had cleaned the piece. People from all over the world spit on the carving, kicked it, struck it as if they could ever hope to topple it… almost as often as they kissed its cold hand in ecstasy or unbridled relief. Jupiter swallowed as she took in the candles they kept lit at its base, the flowers a recurring client had left two days before.

It wasn't a statue at all. It was a shrine.

"Titus?"

He was still staring and Jupiter shivered at the reverence she saw in his face. The grief.

"Mother is dead," he said, monotone. "There will be consequences."

Jupiter didn't even have the air to gasp. "Consequences—?"

"Come on. You heard me. You're a part of this now."

Titus whirled and took Jupiter by the arm, leading her towards the boardroom. Billionaire Titus who'd never spared her a glance literally dragged Jupiter away from her mop and rags, carrying her ever closer to… something. What, she didn't know. Jupiter saw Slinger as she passed. She thought she heard her mom's voice in a far away room. Before the door closed behind her, Jupiter looked up at the statue she'd stared at for years now, the statue that had gotten her this job in the first place.

Jupiter locked eyes with a marble Seraphi and saw her own face staring back at her.