The Bugatti screeched to a halt at the steps. The engine shut off. The butterfly door on the driver’s side slowly swung open.
A man in his sixties, wearing a beautifully tailored charcoal gray suit and slicked-back hair, stepped out of the car.
It was Jonathan Sterling. The cold, ruthless billionaire, and a “god” in my father’s eyes.
“Mr. Sterling! It is such a great honor for the Vance family that you have personally driven here…” Richard rushed forward, bowing deeply.
His head tilted 45 degrees, his hand outstretched as if to shake mine.
But… the most horrifying and bizarre twist occurred.
Jonathan Sterling completely ignored my father’s hand. He didn’t even glance at Richard. The most powerful billionaire on Wall Street maintained an extremely serious expression, hurrying around the hood of the Bugatti towards the passenger seat.
To the astonishment of hundreds of eyes, Jonathan Sterling bowed his head, carefully opening the passenger door with both hands, his demeanor as respectful as a private chauffeur serving a king.
“We’ve arrived, Sir,” Sterling said, his voice filled with absolute respect.
Richard stood frozen in place. His breath hitched. If Jonathan Sterling – a billionaire – had to personally drive and open the door for the person inside, then the person stepping out of that Bugatti must be an incredibly powerful, formidable, and wealthy individual? A Senator? Or perhaps an Arab prince?
