Nathaniel slowed his descent, his earlier mental checklist of business conversations forgotten entirely as he focused on the small, huddled figure near the base of the Christmas tree. Guests moved past it without a second glance, too absorbed in champagne and conversation to notice anything out of place in the extravagant scene around them.
He reached the bottom of the staircase and crossed the ballroom floor, weaving between clusters of laughing guests until he stood close enough to see clearly what — or rather, who — had caught his attention.
A young girl, no older than seven, sat tucked against the base of the towering tree, her face smudged with soot, her clothes little more than ragged layers wrapped loosely against the December cold that had apparently followed her in from outside. She held a small slice of bread in both hands, biting into it with a desperate, focused hunger that made something in Nathaniel's chest tighten uncomfortably.
"What is this?" he said, his voice coming out unsteady, disbelief and something closer to shame coloring the question. He looked around at the oblivious, laughing guests circling just feet away, champagne flutes catching the chandelier light, utterly unaware that a starving child sat huddled in their midst.
No one answered him. No one else, it seemed, had noticed her at all.