In her personal office on the sixth floor, Birdie was staring out of the closed window at the floating clouds while sipping a warm cup of Earl grey tea. She had picked up a love for tea after living in England for some months. As she sipped the tea, her thoughts could not help but wander back to the old days, when her father was still alive and thriving. Would he be proud of how far she had come if he had lived? Would her life be different?
She turned around, sat in her chair and switched on the computer to monitor the training room where her assassins were seriously training, as if it were a life and death situation.
The knock on her door made her take her eyes away from the screen. This could be none other than Helga.
“Come in,” she said.
Helga strode in with a handcuffed Adella. Wh
