Nathan stiffened visibly, surprise flickering across his carefully managed expression.
“Mr. Ortega, your presence honors us profoundly,” Nathan Whitaker announced eagerly, extending his hand with exaggerated respect.
Benjamin Ortega acknowledged him briefly, though his attention shifted almost instantly beyond Nathan’s eager gestures.
“I was hoping to greet someone in particular this evening,” Benjamin Ortega stated calmly.
Nathan hesitated, confusion disrupting his rehearsed composure.
“Someone specific?” Nathan asked uncertainly.
Benjamin Ortega walked forward deliberately, his gaze unwavering.
The ballroom’s silence deepened palpably.
He stopped directly before me.
Recognition illuminated his expression instantly, accompanied by unmistakable respect.
“Good evening, Madam Chair,” Benjamin Ortega said clearly while inclining his head with dignified courtesy.
Gasps rippled audibly throughout the ballroom.
Nathan’s complexion drained of color.
Vanessa Clarke froze, her smile dissolving into stunned incomprehension.
Benjamin Ortega continued with composed clarity.