The high-altitude fog of West Java clung thick to the floor-to-ceiling glass panels of the private glass sanctuary overlooking the valley. Far from the concrete grid of Sudirman and the salt-soaked piers of the northern ports, this secluded estate belonged to no single entity. It was the off-grid sanctuary built under Leo’s direction years ago—a place designed for total isolation, now refitted with military-grade encryption and perimeter defense systems.
Outside, rain lashed against the pine tree canopy in rhythmic, muffled thuds. Inside, the grand fireplace crackled, throwing long, amber shadows across the dark mahogany floors and stone walls.
I stood by the hearth, watching the fire light dance against the rim of my crystal glass. The charcoal suit from the city was gone, replaced by a
