After Warma's announcement, the entire tone of the evening shifted. The weight of expectation that had hovered like a storm cloud over him seemed to scatter into smaller currents, redirected toward whispers among the guests themselves.
The once–constant stream of businessmen, heirs, and opportunists trying to push their way into his orbit had slowed. No longer were they suffocating him with cards, rehearsed speeches, and handshakes that lingered too long. Instead, they sat back and began plotting. Groups clustered together in every corner of the revolving restaurant, their voices low but urgent as they muttered about strategies, introductions, and how best to approach the mysterious Billion Bloodline Group when the promised doors opened the following week.
