I moved away from the door with stiff, mechanical motions. The floor to ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, a glittering sea of lights that usually made me feel like I had made it. Now, the view felt predatory. Every skyscraper was a vantage point, and every street light was a watching eye. The central air hummed with a low, clinical buzz that set my nerves on edge. I looked around my living room, seeing it for what it truly was now. It was a gilded cage. Every expensive piece of minimalist furniture and every framed award from my career at the hotel was a neon sign pointing directly to who I was and where I could be found. I had forty eight hours to become a ghost. If I stayed, I was a puppet. If I ran, I was a target. At that moment, being a target felt infin
