The grand hall tent—moments ago a cathedral of applause, innovation, and self-congratulation—collapsed into chaos the instant Kenneth Holloway stepped into the light. One second, the crowd was basking in champagne dreams and billion-dollar handshakes. The next, reality hit like a wrecking ball wrapped in a tailored suit.
Gasps ripped through the air. The chandeliers overhead seemed to hesitate, their crystal light splintering across frozen faces as if the room itself needed a second to process the impossible. Kenneth Holloway. Alive. Very much alive.
Billionaires and CEOs—people who'd stared down hostile takeovers without blinking—sat paralyzed in their seats. Whispers surged into panicked murmurs.
"Impossible."
"That's not—"
"Is that really him?"
