OPHELIA
The first sensation that washed over me was the unsettling silence that enveloped the apartment.
There were no jarring phone calls ringing through the air or carefully crafted PR statements in the works. And weirdly, Charlotte’s unmistakable voice was absent.
It was just a heavy, oppressive quiet.
This kind of silence always marked the uneasy calm before chaos inevitably descended.
I hesitated at the front of the living room, half-hoping—half-dreading— that Alessandre wouldn’t be standing there. But he was an immovable figure beside the massive flat-screen TV. The remote control hung loosely in his hand, his gaze locked onto something frozen on the screen, a small flicker of light cutting through the shadowy room.
He didn't even glance in my direction when I entered.
"Charlo
