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stood at the center, her face a mask of cold perfection. She straightened her silk dress, her eyes darting toward the balcony. She was the queen of this compound, and queens didn't let scandals ruin their reign.

Alma looked down at her phone. A message from an unknown number glowed on the screen: “The past doesn’t stay buried in the garden, Alma. It’s sitting at your dinner table.” stood at the center, her face a mask of cold perfection

The sun hung low over the manicured lawns of Al Karma, casting long, sharp shadows that looked like obsidian blades. Inside her sprawling villa, stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, clutching a glass of water. Her hands weren't shaking, but her heart was hammering a rhythm of pure dread. Alma looked down at her phone

Only an hour ago, a body had plummeted from the balcony of a nearby penthouse. The scream was still ringing in Alma’s ears—a jagged sound that sliced through the laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses. Now, the flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers danced across her white marble walls. Inside her sprawling villa, stood by the floor-to-ceiling