When Scarlett finished tidying up and washing up, she was about to change into her pajamas. She stood in front of the wardrobe and had just opened the door when the phone rang. The sound came from the adjoining study, stark and jarring in the quiet house.
Usher, who had been lying in bed, sat up immediately, his face showing a hint of anger. "I'll get it."
Scarlett guessed who was calling and quickly tried to stop him. "Don't answer it. Just let it ring."
Usher slid off the bed, his narrow eyes flaring with a spark of anger. "Am I supposed to be afraid of him? I want him to know I'm still alive and well, making him live in constant fear and anxiety."
Usher walked directly into the study, his back tense and rigid. The phone kept ringing. He picked up the receiver, the veins on his neck standing out clearly.
There was no sound from the other end of the line. Usher spoke slowly and deliberately, "Zephyr, you're dead."