"The ink is dry on the transfer papers."
The Board President shouted the desperate words over the carved wooden railing of the VIP box. He stared at his own bleeding hand. The shattered crystal champagne flute lay scattered across the expensive carpet.
The Elysium Summit had promised him fifty million dollars to execute the sale at midnight. He was a man accustomed to breaking young artists. A defective heiress had just broken his corporate reality.
Three thousand billionaires continued their hysterical standing ovation. The sheer volume of their applause shook the grand auditorium. Wealthy aristocrats threw expensive silk roses onto the wooden stage.
Seraphina did not bow. She stood flawless and still in her flowing crimson gown.
She looked at the sea of weeping classical purists. Fo
