“Hello, Jenna,” Emmett said as he reached our table and looked down at the crayons and nuggets.

“Good evening, Mr. Stewart,” I replied, as Nicholas stepped forward to apologize for my presence.

“Sir, I’m so sorry my sister is bothering you,” Nicholas stammered, telling me to stand up and leave immediately.

Emmett held up a hand to silence him and said I was actually the only person he’d been looking forward to seeing all night.

He pulled out a small plastic chair and sat down at the children’s table, sending a wave of shocked silence rippling through the entire ballroom.

It was a bizarre sight—a billionaire CEO sitting next to a crying baby and a plate of half-eaten fries.

“So what are we working on over here?” Emmett asked, picking up a green crayon.

Parker told him we were drawing a dragon that destroys trucks, and Emmett nodded solemnly, as if that were the most important project in the room.

He leaned toward me and spoke loudly enough for the surrounding tables to catch every word.

“The draft you sent for the Tokyo keynote was brilliant—especially the part about innovation being born from silence,” he said.