They were almost at the gate when Shay stopped cold.
Lara followed her gaze and immediately understood why.
The drop-off lane was packed. Four cars had just pulled in back-to-back, commanding attention without trying—a stretched black limousine, two Bentleys, and a Rolls-Royce Phantom, glossy and oversized, its presence unmistakable, arrogant in its luxury. The engines purred softly, as if even the cars knew they belonged to a different world.
Four elegantly dressed women stepped forward, each holding a child by the hand. Their clothes were immaculate, their hair perfectly styled, laughter light and effortless as they chatted among themselves, utterly unbothered by the stares they drew. They looked like they had never been told no—and neither had their children.
Lara's gaze drifted to the kids.
Every single pair of eyes was fixed on Shay.
