[Chapter 306: The Garden Experts]
Back when Linton first returned to Los Angeles from India, he called his aunt Kelly — who also managed his charity foundation — to discuss a personal project unrelated to donations or outreach.
"I want to build a garden," he said over the phone.
"Nice. What are we talking — backyard fountain, rose maze, meditation nook?"
"No. I mean a real garden. Eight hundred thousand square meters."
"No, meters. Think multi-zone environmental matrix. Sculpted landscapes, energy containment, beauty layered over utility. I want it to be poetic but functional."
Kelly paused for a beat.
"You're not asking for a garden," she said. "You're asking for a land-based reactor disguised as an art installation."
"Exactly," Linton replied.
"I'll dig into my network," she told him. "Give me two days. I'll find someone."
Within 48 hours, Kelly had lined up two of the most renowned names in American landscape design. The first was James van Sweden, a legend known for blending wild nature with architectural elegance in large-scale urban and private spaces. The second was Topher Delaney, a San Francisco-based conceptual garden artist famous for emotionally resonant, symbolic landscapes.
Both were intrigued. The scope was outrageous — and the freedom of creative direction, not to mention the pay, made it impossible to pass up.
By early September, after Linton wrapped up his Independence Day film project and secured backing from both the White House and Pentagon, van Sweden and Delaney flew out to meet him.
At dinner, the two experts were stunned when Linton revealed the garden's actual size. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novel⸺fire.net
"Wait… you're serious?" Topher asked.
Linton slid over a high-resolution satellite map of his estate. Their jaws dropped.
"This place has… unusual behavior," Linton explained. "It generates energy — resonance — in layers. What I need is a landscape that contains and stabilizes that power. But it has to be subtle. No one can know what it really does."
Van Sweden flipped through the schematics and nodded thoughtfully.
"We can shape the terrain with kinetic intent — let the hills and trees guide the flow. Stone, water, light… each feature choreographed."
Topher sketched quickly, then passed her pad across the table: spirals, energy circles, mirrored surfaces, shadowed groves.
"You'll want reflective elements. Quartz, metal latticework. You're designing a battery disguised as a memory," she said.
"Exactly," Linton replied.
Winnie, seated nearby, raised an eyebrow.
"Let me guess — no local unions?"
"I'd prefer discretion," Linton said. "Short-term crews. Non-union if possible. International labor agreements."
At the time, Kelly had just returned from a major charity trip. That year alone, her foundation had invested five million dollars in rebuilding elementary and middle schools across rural towns in their late grandmother's hometown. She'd also funded a 50-kilometer county highway. With two straight years of ambitious, high-impact work, she was now regarded as a beloved figure among locals — a dear friend of the people.
"Got it," Kelly replied smoothly. "I'll use the foundation's contacts in Colombia. The Cauca governor still owes us a favor. I'll run this as a cultural collaboration — landscape training exchange. We'll bring the teams in under short-term visas."
By the end of the week, the designs were finalized. Contracts signed. Implementation began.
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