Alex stayed in the luxurious hotel suite like a ghost drifting through a life that didn't belong to him. Day bled into night, and night returned without meaning.
The king-sized bed—an ocean of soft linens and layered pillows—became his world. He barely moved.
There were no grand plans, no recon missions, no hidden agendas. Just silence. A suffocating, reflective silence.
For the past week, Alex did nothing but lie there, half-awake and staring at the ceiling or out the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed a sweeping view of the city's skyline.
The glimmering city lights did nothing to stir him. Not even the occasional burst of laughter from people walking the lively streets below could reach him.
The only time he stirred was when he heard the gentle knock on the door: either hotel staff bringing in food or maids coming in to clean. He would answer the door, murmur a few words, nod politely, and return to bed.
