Latest Blog Post

[2] Spain times

Spain was a prison wrapped in sunshine.

For two years, Nadia lived in a world where she was neither feared nor revered, where her last name carried no weight. The people of Marbella, with their easy smiles and chill lives, didn’t know who she was & nor did they care. It should have been a relief, a clean slate. But it wasn't. To Nadia, it felt suffocating. Irrelevance had never been part of her life, and she refused to let it define her now.

At school, she quickly learned that wealth meant something different here. It wasn’t about old money and power whispered behind closed doors; it was new, loud, and often flashy. She observed, listened, and adapted. The children of European aristocrats and self-made business moguls had their own hierarchies and rules. She studied them like a predator learning the movements of its prey.

She didn’t make friends, she made investments. She carefully chose acquaintances who could offer her something: access, influence, protection.. Whatever one can offer. She polished her Spanish until it was flawless and absorbed the culture until she could blend in seamlessly. She became sharper, more calculating, molding herself into someone who could command attention without demanding it.

Her mother, once a poised and elegant socialite, had shrunk into the shadows. The scandal had broken her in pieces. Her mother spent her days reminiscing about their past life, clinging to memories of the past. Nadia, on the other hand, refused to look back. If Spain was exile, she was to use it as her training ground.

She honed her intellect, diving into law books, philosophy, and politics. She dissected legal cases.. not to prove her father’s innocence; she had no illusions about what he had done. But to understand power: who wielded it, who controlled it, and who bent the rules in their favor.

Most importantly, she sought to learn how she could do the same.