The private jet touched down on a hidden landing strip in the hills of California. It was late at night, and the air was warm and smelled like sea salt. A black SUV was waiting right by the plane. Nathan carried Fiona down the stairs, her head resting on his shoulder. She was still wearing the oversized trench coat and the dark wig was slightly crooked on her head.
They drove through a long, winding road behind tall iron gates. The villa was huge, made of white stone and glass, hidden by thick trees. Security cameras blinked red from every corner of the roof, and two guards in black suits nodded as the car passed.
Inside, the house was quiet. Two maids stood in the foyer, bowing their heads. "Welcome back, Mr. Keith. Her room is ready," one of them said.
