I intended to be.

Show me the most expensive vehicle in the building.”

A couple of salespeople nearby heard that and exchanged looks.

Khloe’s mouth curved slightly.

“That would be the Aurelion Z9.

Four hundred thousand dollars.”

“I’d like to see it,” he said.

She glanced toward Steve Delaney, one of the senior salesmen, a man who mistook cruelty for charisma.

“Steve,” she said, amused now, “please uncover the Z9.

Our guest has refined taste.”

Steve laughed and walked toward the display.

“Sure.

Why not? Slow morning anyway.”

As the silver cover came off, the vehicle seemed to glow under the overhead lighting.

The old man stepped closer.

Whatever mockery had filled the space before went a little quieter then, because he didn’t react the way curious outsiders usually did.

He didn’t gawk.

He didn’t hesitate.

He examined.

He studied the body lines, the wheelbase, the front grille, the badge alignment, the paint finish along the hood edge.

He moved around the car slowly and carefully, like a man checking workmanship, not dreaming about ownership.

Steve noticed it too, and for a moment his grin dimmed.

Then the old man said, “Please start the engine.”

Steve’s smile returned, harsher this time.

“That’s not happening.

This is a display car, not a toy.”

The old man straightened.

“Then I’d like to speak with the general manager.”

Khloe exhaled dramatically.

“Of course you would.”

She walked to reception, picked up the internal phone, and called Victor Sterling.

Victor was Prestige Auto Gallery’s general manager, and if Khloe wore status like a trophy, Victor wore it like armor.

He was in his mid-forties, sleek, controlled, and relentlessly transactional.

He believed good business meant filtering out the unprofitable before they could inconvenience the profitable.

Under his leadership, sales had climbed.

So had staff arrogance.

“Yes?” he said into the phone.

“There’s an elderly gentleman on the showroom floor,” Khloe said, keeping her voice light.

“He’s insisting he wants to purchase the Aurelion Z9.”

Victor chuckled.

“Then let him enjoy the fantasy.

He’ll leave when he realizes nobody has time for him.”

“He wants to see you.”

“I don’t want to see him.”

Khloe smiled faintly.

“Understood.”

She returned and crossed her arms.

“Mr.

Sterling is in a meeting.

Today won’t be possible.”

“I need to see him today,” the old man said.

“And I need a dozen things before lunch,” Khloe replied.

“Life disappoints all of us.”

Steve walked to the water dispenser near the customer lounge, filled a paper cup, and carried it over with theatrical pity.

“Here,” he said.

“On the house.

Drink some water and move along.”

The old man looked at the cup but did not take it.

Steve tilted his head.

“No?”

Then, in one casual, ugly motion, he flicked the water directly at the man’s chest.

There was a collective intake of breath from two receptionists and one junior consultant who had been pretending not to watch.

The splash darkened the front of the old man’s white shirt.

Steve laughed.

So did one of the guards.

Khloe didn’t laugh out loud, but she did not stop it either.

The old man lowered his eyes to the water spreading across the fabric.

He brushed one drop from his sleeve with his thumb and said nothing.

No anger.

No scene.