Standing before the heavy door of a private airstrip in the dead of night, Alexander Blackwell was a man who had just abandoned the soil of his birth. His name, now a wildfire in the media, burned brighter than ever—but for all the wrong reasons. His exodus from the country was all the confirmation the world needed to declare him guilty. His name, once dragged through the mud, had now been buried beneath it. They crucified him in the court of public opinion. The nation whispered his downfall in hushed, terrified tones. But Alexander?
He did not waver.
Not even a flicker of emotion crossed his face. To him, this was neither a defeat nor a setback. It was merely another step in a plan that had been in motion long before anyone had even begun to suspect him. He was not a man running. He was a man positioning himself for the inevitable endgame.
