Chapter 6 - The Anatomy of Panic
Alex’s glass slipped slightly in his grip, the stem slick with cold condensation. His eyes locked onto the woman moving down the center aisle, his mind frantically trying to reconcile the image of the majestic guest before him with the meek waitress he had insulted less than ten minutes ago.
The physical resemblance was undeniable—the sharp jawline, the deep brown eyes, the flawless, pale skin. But the aura was entirely different. The woman in the white blazer had seemed small, quiet, and easily manipulated. The woman in the sparkling sheer gown looked like an executioner stepping up to the block.
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Beside him, Clara’s jaw dropped in utter, unvarnished shock. Her eyes bulged as she looked from the girl on the floor back to Alex, her face turning pale under her makeup. The diamond ring on her hand trembled as she clutched her silver dress, realizing in an instant that the delicate social hierarchy they had spent their lives maintaining had just been blown to pieces.
Alex felt a cold, prickling sweat break out along the back of his neck. His arrogance melted away, replaced by a deep, instinctual dread that started in his chest and spread quickly through his limbs. The fifty-thousand-dollar bet he had so casually thrown out was no longer a joke; it was a signed confession of his own stupidity, delivered directly to the most powerful person in the room.
