Alexander Reed, CEO of Global Horizons Capital, studied stock fluctuations on his tablet with the same detached focus that had built his empire: no feelings, only outcomes.
“Sir, Sunset Boulevard is blocked by a protest,” said Marcus, his driver and head of security for nearly fifteen years. “We’ll need to cut through the side streets.”
Alexander didn’t raise his eyes.
“Do what you need to, Marcus. Just get me to dinner with the Tokyo investors. They don’t appreciate delays.”
The black armored sedan turned smoothly, slipping into a neighborhood Alexander rarely saw. Cracked pavement, taco stands, children weaving through traffic—the vivid disorder of ordinary life, far removed from the glass tower where he ruled from above.
A red light forced them to stop at a crowded intersection. Alexander exhaled, locked his tablet, and glanced out the tinted window.
Time stopped.
On the sidewalk, beneath the faded awning of a corner market, sat four little girls.
Four.
They looked about nine years old. Their clothes were worn and carefully mended. They sat on overturned crates selling chewing gum and small bundles of wilting daisies. It wasn’t their poverty that made Alexander’s chest tighten.