chapter 24
Abhi's POV: The air in this new country is humid, smelling of salt and blooming jasmine—a far cry from the recycled oxygen of Blackwood. I walked up the gravel path to the house, the key you gave me heavy in my pocket. It’s not a safe house. It’s an estate. A gardener was trimming the hedges with rhythmic, clinical precision. He didn't even look up as I passed, as if my arrival was just another scheduled event in a perfectly managed system. Inside, a chef was already at work, the clatter of pans and the scent of searing garlic filling the marble kitchen. "Welcome home, Mr. Abhi," the chef said without turning around. "Dinner will be served at eight. Your study is ready upstairs." I didn't eat. I went straight to the study. On the desk sat a single, high-end laptop. No passwords. No e
- Writer
