The city outside the Limketkai mansion was quiet now, subdued under a thin veil of mist that clung to the streets like a secret. Inside, the mansion hummed with faint activity—security guards making their rounds, the hum of air-conditioning, the occasional creak of the old wooden floors—but it was a calm that felt fragile, like the pause before a storm. Nathan Saavedra moved through the corridors with a measured purpose, his mind replaying the footage of the maid again and again. Every detail of her movements, every hesitation, every glance over her shoulder was cataloged in his mind, each one a thread leading back to the unseen hand that had orchestrated the sabotage.
He had arranged for the maid’s safe relocation hours earlier, but the knowledge that someone was watching, waiting, and c
