The superyacht dominates the Hudson River like a floating city of dreams. I watch the crowd around us triple in size as word spreads through social media. Camera flashes light up the evening sky like paparazzi at a premiere.
"Noah, this is impossible," Scarlett whispers, her voice barely audible over the excited chatter of hundreds of onlookers. "That yacht... it's like something from a movie."
The vessel continues its stately approach, its sleek white hull catching the setting sun. Every line screams cutting-edge design and unlimited budget. The thing looks like it could house a small town.
"How big do you think it is?" someone in the crowd shouts.
"Has to be over six hundred feet," another voice responds. "Look at those satellite domes. That's military-grade communication equipment."
I check my watch. Seven-fifty. Right on schedule.
Scarlett's phone buzzes. She glances at the screen and pales.
"It's Alistair. He says he's five minutes away."
"Perfect timing."
