I arrived at his penthouse just past 9. The road leading into Palm Jumeirah always feels like a transition - like you’re leaving Dubai and stepping into a quieter world where time slows down. The building was one of those glass towers that always smell like orchids and polished marble.

He arrived early - not because he was eager, but because he didn’t want to be late. There’s a difference. His name was Arjun (nick name). Mid-30s, recently divorced, Indian. The kind of man who looked polished but carried the weight of a courtroom battle behind his eyes.