Chapter 2
The silence that followed the boy's words was heavier than the crystal chandelier overhead. Julian remained frozen, his fork hovering inches from the white plate. Around the long wooden dining table, the other guests had stopped talking. Men in black tuxedos and women in black dresses sat like statues, their gazes darting between Julian and his wife. The stark contrast of the black-and-white vision faded back into color, but the warmth of the room was gone, replaced by a suffocating chill.
Julian turned his head slowly, looking across the polished wood at the woman he had known for a decade. Her dark hair was coiled in an immaculate updo, and her strapless gown draped elegantly over her shoulders, but her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. The forced smile had vanished, leaving behind a pale, rigid mask.
"What is this nonsense?" a guest muttered down the table, clearing his throat nervously. "Some kind of prank?"
Julian didn't answer. He looked back down at the boy in the tan button-down shirt. The child hadn't moved an inch. His brown eyes held a profound, sorrowful weight that made Julian’s stomach knot. This wasn't a game. A child from outside didn't just wander into a private charity gala on the eighty-fourth floor without a reason.
"Who let him in?" Julian asked, his voice low and dangerous, though his eyes never left his wife's face.
"Julian, please," his wife finally spoke, her voice dropping the practiced lilt and cracking slightly. "Don't listen to a stray child. Look at him. He's delusional."
"Then eat it," Julian said simply.
The three words dropped onto the table like stones. The guests stirred, murmuring among themselves. Julian slid his own white plate across the polished wood, straight toward his wife's place setting, right next to her untouched wine glass.
May you like
"If it's nothing, eat the bite," Julian repeated, his voice dangerously calm.
The boy in the tan shirt stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. He watched the woman with an unflinching gaze, waiting for the inevitable truth to surface from beneath the polished veneer of their perfect lives.
