Safehouse, Geneva – 11:47 PM Griffin slept soundly in the next room, his breathing soft and even, monitored by the discreet medical equipment James had arranged. Moonlight filtered through bulletproof glass, casting long shadows across the Alpine chalet's living area where Maria, James, and I hunched over blueprints and documents spread across a heavy oak table. Outside, the wind whispered through pine trees, masking the subtle sounds of the security team patrolling the perimeter—professionals James had hired from his days working in high-risk markets in Southeast Asia."Michael's lawyers are already filing motions to challenge Griffin's medical autonomy," Maria muttered, tapping a freshly delivered legal brief with a perfectly manicured nail. The red lacquer caught the light from the lamp overhead, looking almost black in the dim room. "Claims you're unfit to decide. That you've been influenced by 'radical medical privacy advocates' and are endangering Griffin's life by denying him
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