The Grand Hall of Northwood was glowing. It looked like something out of a movie. Huge spotlights cutting through the night sky, a red carpet that seemed to go on forever, and rows of security guards in black suits standing like statues. This was the one night a year where the real owners of the city came out to play. I pulled the Bugatti into the long line of luxury cars. Ahead of me were Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, and Lamborghinis, but even in this crowd, my car was the center of attention. It looked like a black shadow moving through the lights. People on the sidelines were pointing and whispering, trying to peek through the tinted glass to see which billionaire was inside. I saw them then. Standing near the entrance were Bryan Montgomery and Chloe. Bryan was wearing a white tuxedo that probably cost more than my old apartment. He was standing next to a middle-aged man with a thin mustache and a stethoscope visible in his breast pocket—the "famous doctor" he’d brought to show off.