Chapter 55

The smell of expensive air freshener hit his nose as Karikalan’s eyes flickered open. He bolted upright, a strangled gasp escaping his throat, but a sharp, white-hot pull in his shoulder forced him back against the pillows. He was lying in a bed with silk sheets in a room so bright and luxurious. The walls were a soft cream, adorned with gold-leaf moldings, and a massive chandelier hung silently from the ceiling.

Karikalan looked down at himself, he was nearly naked, stripped of his blood-soaked clothes. In their place were professional, sterile bandages wrapping his ribs, his shoulder, and his knuckles. Even the gash on his thigh had been stitched. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head swimming. The world tilted dangerously for a second before he steadied himself and started looking for his clothes but they were gone. In their place sat a crisp, black linen shirt and matching trousers.

He let out a long, weary sigh, the weight of the previous night settling into his bones. He didn't care whose house this was. He didn't care about the luxury... He only cared about his wife in the ICU. He slid into the clothes… they fit him perfectly, as if tailored for his frame and walked toward the door. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, a guard standing by a marble pillar straightened. The man gestured toward the grand staircase.

"Bhai is waiting for you downstairs. Follow me."

Karikalan followed in silence, they descended into a vast dining hall where the man from the villa sat at the head of a long mahogany table. He was dressed in a simple grey polo shirt, methodically cutting into a piece of omelet.