Nathan Saavedra stared at the glowing screen of his laptop, the quiet hum of the air conditioner the only sound inside the office. Outside the glass window, the city lights stretched across the night like scattered stars, but Nathan barely noticed them.
The silence pressed against him.
Something was wrong.
Not just financially.
The poisoning itself felt too precise.
Slow poisoning meant access. It meant repeated contact. It meant someone could reach Lorenzo Limketkai without suspicion.
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
The trail was not complete yet.
But the pattern was there.
Shell companies.
Disguised consulting payments.
Fragmented transfers spread across months.
About ten million pesos had moved quietly through the network, never triggering alarm.
Someone had planned this carefully.
