The first meeting took place at midnight.
Not because it had to. Because secrecy had become a habit.
The men and women arriving at the estate had spent most of their lives operating behind closed doors. They trusted silence more than publicity. They trusted private conversations more than public statements.
And tonight, silence was essential.
The estate sat nearly forty miles outside the capital, hidden behind forests and security gates. Officially, it belonged to an investment consortium.
Unofficially, it belonged to whoever needed privacy. Luxury vehicles arrived one by one.
No press. No photographs. No records.
Only powerful people disappearing into the darkness. Inside the mansion, a fire crackled in a stone fireplace. Expensive artwork lined the walls .Crystal glasses rested on polished tables. Everything looked civilized. Refined. Respectable. Which was ironic.
