The silence in the ballroom was deafening.
Every conversation died mid-sentence. Champagne glasses froze halfway to lips. Even the background music seemed to fade into nothingness as two hundred of Everbrook City's elite stared at the impossible scene before them.
Bradley Orwell, one of the most powerful men in Jiangnan Province, knelt before me like a servant greeting his master.
The shock on their faces was almost comical. These people who lived their entire lives calculating social hierarchies and power dynamics had just watched their understanding of the world crumble in real time.
"Rise," I said quietly, my voice carrying easily through the stunned silence.
Bradley stood smoothly, his expression respectful but not servile. He understood the game we were playing. This wasn't just about showing respect—it was about sending a message to everyone in this room.
Especially to Clara's mother, who looked like she'd seen a ghost.
