Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO OWNED EVERYTHING Richard Miller believed the world belonged to men like him.
He was fifty-two, wealthy, powerful, and accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted.
His company owned apartment towers, office buildings, luxury hotels, and commercial properties throughout the city.
His face appeared regularly in business magazines.
Politicians shook his hand.
Charities printed his name on giant banners.
And tonight, his name was displayed above the entrance to the gala.
THE RICHARD MILLER CHILDREN'S CHARITY INITIATIVE.
The irony would have been funny if what happened next hadn't been so cruel.
Richard walked through the hallway speaking loudly into his phone.
"No," he snapped. "Move the closing to Monday. I don't care what the lawyers say."
He barely noticed the people around him.
They were obstacles.
That was how he saw the world.
People were either useful or inconvenient.
As he turned sharply around the corner, he didn't look down.
His expensive leather shoe struck the aluminum shaft of Owen's crutch.
The crutch slipped.
Owen's body shifted.
He grabbed for balance.
"I'm sorry, sir!" the boy said quickly.
Richard stopped.
He looked down.
His eyes traveled from Owen's face to the prosthetic leg beneath his pants.
Something cold appeared in his expression.
"Watch where you're standing."
Owen lowered his eyes.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Clearly."
Richard stepped forward.
Owen tried to move aside.
But his balance was difficult.
Richard's patience lasted approximately two seconds.
"You people always expect everyone else to move around you."
Sarah was still several yards away.
She didn't hear him.
Owen did.
And although he was only eight, he understood exactly what Richard meant.
Richard's knee slammed into Owen.
The boy fell backward.
His prosthetic leg struck the marble.
His crutch flew from his hand.
The metallic crash echoed through the hallway.
Owen landed hard.
For one terrible second, he didn't cry.
He simply stared at the ceiling.
Then the pain reached him.
"Mom!"
His voice broke.
Tears filled his eyes.
Richard looked down at him.
Instead of helping, he frowned.
"Maybe next time you'll watch where you're going."
Owen reached toward his crutch.
Richard kicked it farther away.
The boy froze.
A few guests turned.
But nobody moved.
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Because everyone knew who Richard Miller was.
And that was exactly what Richard was counting on.
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