A man in a sharply tailored pinstripe suit knelt down immediately beside Aurelia, his expression carrying genuine concern and respectful urgency as he helped her rise carefully from the sidewalk. "Miss Whitmore," he said, his voice calm and steady despite the obvious tension surrounding them, "forgive our late arrival."
Delphine's confusion deepened further at the formal, respectful address, her earlier aggressive confidence completely evaporating as she registered the unmistakable deference in the security chief's tone. "Whitmore?" she repeated weakly, dawning unease beginning to settle over her.
Aurelia accepted the man's assistance gracefully, straightening her designer coat with quiet composure despite everything she had just endured. "Thank you, Marcus," she said calmly, her voice carrying none of the distress Delphine might have expected given the circumstances.
Marcus turned slowly toward Delphine, his expression carrying calm, unwavering authority that immediately silenced whatever remaining bravado she had been desperately clinging to. Guests and pedestrians nearby watched in stunned silence, sensing that whatever was about to be revealed would carry devastating consequences.