While Nathaniel and his team were making final preparations, on the other side of the world, the other protagonist of this entire saga was clearly preoccupied—with someone far more personal.
"Where is my granddaughter, Alexander?" came the cold, unmistakable voice of Elisabeth Blackwell, slicing through the secure video call like a blade. Her eyes were sharp, unyielding, as they focused on the screen, where her son sat calmly in an unfamiliar setting.
"I received word she's not in school. So again—where is she?" she pressed.
Behind Alexander was a richly adorned interior. It wasn't their suite in Riyadh, nor any location she recognized. The walls were made of earth-toned plaster with tribal motifs and rough textures. Ornate masks, wooden sculptures, and bold tapestries were artfully arranged behind him, whispering of a place steeped in deep, ancient culture. It felt ethnic—African, perhaps. A stark contrast to the gilded opulence of Saudi Arabia.
