Monday morning hit like a hangover wrapped in corporate jargon. The Goa off-site glow had faded into fluorescent reality back in Bengaluru. The Series B pitch was Thursday; investors were already in town for “pre-meetings.” The office buzzed with forced productivity—stand-ups, Jira tickets, coffee runs—but under the surface, the four of them (plus Vikram) moved like a pack of wolves who’d tasted blood.

The anonymous threats hadn’t stopped. Every few hours, a new Slack ping from the ghost account: stills from the villa pool, cropped close enough to show faces this time. No demands yet—just reminders that someone was watching. Waiting.