Kumar’s POV

Waking up that first morning at Flair Manor? It felt less like waking up in the morning and more like sick training for some invisible army. The curtains flung open at six sharp, not by hand, but by some overzealous robot system that thought it was doing me a favor.

“Good morning, Mr. Gujral,” it said, sounding too polite, it gave me the creeps.

There was sunlight everywhere, and bright enough to make my eyeballs burn, and I swear even the weather was on the schedule.

Victor Flair didn’t just live here. The dude directed it.

By eight, I’m dragging my feet to the glass dining table, coffee...