The Grand Bellmont was the kind of restaurant where people lowered their voices without being asked.
It stood on the top floor of a historic hotel in the heart of the city, surrounded by glass towers and old stone buildings.
From the dining room, guests could see nearly the entire skyline.
At night, the city looked like a sea of stars.
The restaurant was famous for its crystal chandeliers, white linen tablecloths, hand-polished silverware, and a menu that most ordinary people could only afford to read online.
A single dinner could cost more than a week's salary for a working family.
Politicians ate there.
Actors ate there.
Business executives held private meetings there.
Celebrities sometimes rented the entire dining room for parties.
And on a cold Thursday evening in November, one of the most powerful businessmen in the city sat alone at table twelve.
His name was Victor Harrington.
He was sixty-one years old.
He owned a chain of luxury hotels, several office buildings, and a private investment company.
His face appeared regularly in business magazines.
People described him as disciplined, brilliant, ruthless, and impossible to impress.
Victor liked expensive things.
He liked quiet restaurants.
He liked people who knew exactly what they were doing.
And most importantly, he liked control.
At table twelve, everything had been arranged precisely.
His black jacket was perfectly fitted.
His silver watch rested beneath his cuff.
A glass of sparkling water stood directly to his right.
His steak had been served exactly the way he requested.
Medium rare.
No sauce.
Extra pepper.
The plate was decorated beautifully.
Victor cut a piece of steak and placed it into his mouth.
For several seconds, everything seemed fine.
Then he stopped chewing.
His eyebrows tightened.
He looked down at the plate.
He picked up his knife.
Cut another piece.
Tasted it.
His expression became colder.
The waitress assigned to his table noticed.
Her name was Emily Carter.
She was twenty-four years old.
She had worked at the Grand Bellmont for almost two years.
She wasn't from a wealthy family.
She had grown up in a small apartment with her mother and younger brother.
Her father had died when she was sixteen.
Since then, Emily had worked constantly.
She had attended college during the day and worked evening shifts at restaurants.
After graduating with a degree in hospitality management, she had hoped to become a hotel manager someday.