The morning sun bathed Singapore in a golden glow. Its rays reflected off the glass-and-steel towers that defined the city's skyline. The light was warm, honeyed, spilling across the sleek facades of the buildings and casting long, dancing shadows across the streets below. The air was warm, carrying the faint scent of salt and tropical flowers.

It was a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the streets below. The city was alive, humming with the rhythm of commerce and ambition. It was a place where dreams were built and fortunes were made. But for Kabir, standing in his penthouse overlooking all of it, the city felt empty.