The heavy glass doors of the Patek Philippe salon closed behind them with a muted, pressurized click, instantly cutting off the reverent bows of the staff inside.
Stepping back into the main corridor of the Haute Horlogerie sector, the contrast was immediate. The afternoon sun was hitting the upper glass prisms of the Central Galleria, casting long, geometric beams of golden light across the polished marble walkways. Down on the lower levels, the hum of regular weekend shoppers sounded distant, like waves crashing outside a fortified castle.
Aliya walked with her left arm held completely rigid, angled slightly upward as if she were carrying a priceless glass artifact. Her right hand kept the vlogging rig perfectly centered on the rose-gold Nautilus, the factory-set baguette diamonds catching the overhead halogen lights and throwing tiny, blinding prismatic shards across her face.
