The storm raged outside the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of Kenneth's master study at Sentosa Cove, lightning illuminating the churning waters of the Singapore Strait in brilliant flashes of violet and silver. The room smelled of antiseptic, fresh coffee, and the rich, comforting scent of rain-soaked cedarwood. Alana stood beside the leather sofa, her hands steady as she applied sterile butterfly sutures and antibiotic ointment to the bullet graze on Kenneth's…
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