The next day, Carson decided to ignore the coming storm. To maintain his "low-key" billionaire persona, he attended the New Seattle Children's Hospital Charity Auction.
He arrived in his matte-black Specter-Supernova. This time, the valet bowed so low he nearly hit the pavement.
Inside the ballroom, the atmosphere was different. People didn't sneer; they whispered. They knew he was the owner of Cloud-Reach, but they didn't know who he was.
"The next item," the auctioneer announced, "is a set of historical journals from the pre-smog era. Discovered in an old laboratory."
Carson's heart skipped a beat. On the stage was a box with a familiar crest. It was his father's personal research log—the one Silas had sold five years ago.
And sitting in the front row, ready to bid, was Uncle Silas himself, looking fat and prosperous in a tuxedo.