Riyaan Chatterjee Chapter 1: The monsoon had arrived in Kolkata with its usual flair—abrupt, unpredictable, and theatrical. The sky over College Street had been clear just thirty minutes ago, laced with the buttery gold of a humid afternoon, and now it was dark, moody, and rumbling with the kind of threats only a Bengal monsoon could make. Shubhayan Ghosh was stuck under the tiny green-and-white awning of Paramount Sherbet House, his laptop bag hanging heavy from his shoulder, his formal shirt uncomfortably sticking to his back. He had just come out of a client visit at Dalhousie and, against his…