The ballroom was packed with North Hills' most important people. Three chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one worth more than Barry's old annual salary. The guest list included mayors, business owners, politicians, and celebrities. Everyone had come to the mysterious mansion opening, desperate to find out who owned it.
Barry stood in the shadows, watching them all mingle and gossip. He wore an expensive black suit that cost fifteen thousand dollars—money he barely noticed spending anymore. His wealth had become so abstract, so disconnected from reality, that numbers on a screen meant nothing to him. But tonight, the numbers would become a person. Tonight, they would see who he was.
The orchestra finished their current song at eight o'clock exactly. The music stopped. The crowd quiet
