Hassan's Villa
Meanwhile, Hassan Adi lounged in an overflowing bubble bath, letting the hot water soothe his tense muscles. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the gilded mirror. The scent of lavender soap clashed with the tension gnawing at him. His villa, perched on a Lewis Center hill, was a sanctuary of luxury, its stone walls hiding ancient secrets. A sharp knock at the door startled him. "I'm busy!" he growled, his deep voice echoing off the tiles.
"It's your father, sir," the servant replied, her tone hesitant. "He insists."
Hassan sighed, grabbing his phone from the ledge. "What is it now?" he snapped, irritated. "It's not the monthly check-in, is it?"
His father, Tarif Adi's voice boomed in his ear, instantly souring his mood. "Have you found the Medusa Piece?" Impatient, authoritative, as always.
Hassan clenched his teeth, the water splashing with his abrupt movement. "Not yet. But it's progressing."
