Chapter 1 · free to read
Ten years in London. One phone call to bring me back.
Ten years, and the first thing said to him on those steps was about a dead man.
The great Devraj Deshmukh. Killed at his own door. They wanted me to see the body.
Candlelight, a full hall, and a condolence delivered close enough to be private.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.