~CHARLES~
Tick Tock… tick tock…
That was the only sound in my quiet office, the grandfather clock sitting in a corner. The ticks feeling like a countdown.
I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, staring at the silent phone on my mahogany desk. It was 8:45 PM.
Henry should have called by now.
I thought back to our conversation three hours ago. Henry had been practically giddy with excitement.
"Our plan seems to be taking shape on its own, Charles," he had gloated over the phone. "Layla called me, crying. She wants to hand over emergency powers. She wants to leave for Switzerland with her husband."
I had told him to be careful. "Layla O'Brien doesn't fold, Henry. She fights. What if it's a trap?"
