Chapter 77 The Third Move

• Charles was in his penthouse suite, the city lights glittering beneath him like a thousand tiny lies. He had just wrapped a long day of interviews and press junkets, his mind numb from the repetition of it all—same questions, same smiles, same rehearsed charm.
• He poured himself a drink, loosened his tie, and collapsed onto the couch. The silence was welcome. The solitude is necessary.
• Then his phone buzzed.