CHAPTER 3
The maître d' finally broke the trance, rushing forward with frantic steps while waving his hands to summon private security guards toward the VIP section. "Get that vagrant away from Mr. Sterling immediately! Call the authorities and clear this dining room before the press catches wind of this disruption!"
Arthur raised a single, trembling hand, stopping the oncoming guards dead in their tracks with a glare that could freeze molten steel. "Touch him, and you are fired before you hit the floor," Arthur commanded, his voice carrying the terrifying authority of a man who owned half the city blocks in Manhattan.
The restaurant manager recoiled instantly, his face draining of all color as he stared at the billionaire in absolute bewilderment. Arthur slowly shifted his gaze back down to the small boy, who stood patiently beside the wheelchair with his torn charcoal-gray T-shirt dusted with street soot.
"You didn't answer my question, boy," Arthur said, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control over his racing pulse and erratic breathing. "What did you just do to my body? What kind of trick is this?"
The child tilted his head, his messy brown hair falling over wide, soulful eyes that held the weight of centuries. "It's no trick, Mr. Sterling; your legs were broken, but your spirit was locked away in a darker cage than this chair."
Gasps rippled through the nearby tables as wealthy socialites realized the street kid knew the billionaire's exact name without an introduction ever being made. Arthur flinched as if struck by a physical blow, because no one outside his immediate medical board and family knew the true extent of his psychological despair.
"You talk like a man twice your age," Arthur muttered, his fingers tracing the edge of his silver silk tie as he tried to steady his nerves. "People don't just walk after twelve years of complete spinal cord atrophy, especially not because a kid in rags touched their knees."
"Miracles don't care about medical charts, sir," the boy whispered, stepping back slightly as the flashing lights of smartphone cameras began to pierce the restaurant's tinted windows. The paparazzi had already swarmed the exterior, alerted by frantic tipsters among the terrified elite guests dining inside.
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Arthur felt a sudden, terrifying surge of panic as he realized his deepest, most vulnerable secret was about to become global headline news by morning. He looked at his legs again, feeling the distinct, agonizing pressure of blood rushing back into muscles that had atrophied into uselessness long ago.
"If you run, they will hunt you down like an animal," Arthur warned the boy quietly, leaning forward with intense, searching eyes. "Stay right here by my side, and I will protect you from every wolf in this city."
