The heavy oak doors of Agastya’s private study clicked shut, sealing off the heartbreaking echoes of the sunroom. The room was dark, illuminated only by the cool, bluish glow of twin computer monitors casting long, harsh shadows across the mahogany desk.

Kabir paced restlessly across the Persian rug, running a hand through his hair, his face twisted in a mask of anxious disbelief. He stopped abruptly, turning to face his older brother, who was already leaning over the desk, pulling up encrypted database logs.