The shift was immediate. It was subtle, but undeniable. Conversations quieted. Attention sharpened.
He walked onto the stage with the same composed authority I remembered, dressed this time in a tailored dark suit that fit him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and commanding frame.
Every movement was controlled and effortless, as if he was accustomed to being watched… and unaffected by it.
I felt it again. That same unexplainable pull. Truly annoying and persistent.
I forced myself to look away. This wasn’t about him. I had work to do.
The ceremony continued… introductions, acknowledgments, presentations about the purpose of the gala and the foundations it supported.
Then, Wilthon spoke.
His voice carried easily across the space… deep, steady, wary. He didn’t need theatric
