Morning sunlight stretched gently across the private academy grounds, turning the trimmed lawns gold and softening the sharp edges of the modern glass buildings. Children’s laughter carried through the air, bright and careless, untouched by corporate wars or buried betrayals.
From across the street, Damian Blackwood watched in silence.
He stood beside a parked car beneath the shade of a jacaranda tree, dark sunglasses shielding his eyes though the morning wasn’t particularly bright. His posture remained still, controlled, almost invisible among waiting drivers and security personnel.
He had chosen this spot carefully.
Far enough not to alarm anyone.
Close enough to see.
The school gates opened, and children began filing into the courtyard under supervision. Uniforms in shades of navy
