Chapter 4 - The Shift in Atmospheric Pressure
Before Eleanor could summon security to drag the weeping child onto the New York pavement, the heavy brass and glass entrance doors swung open with a definitive thud. The atmospheric pressure in the room instantly plummeted. The soft jazz seemed to mute itself. Arthur Whitworth had arrived. A titan of global industry, he did not merely enter a room; he commanded the very oxygen within it. Clad in a bespoke charcoal suit, his sharp, imposing features and piercing, mercury-cold gaze radiated absolute authority. He was the billionaire owner of the very ground beneath their feet. The champagne flutes in the hands of wealthy clients paused in mid-air. Eleanor’s cruel sneer vanished in a microsecond, replaced by a desperate, fawning smile as she rapidly adjusted her posture to greet the king.
