Liam called late into the night.
Deirdre couldn't sleep. She lay in bed, tossing and turning, when suddenly the vibrating sound of a phone startled her.
James Lee's phone was charging on the TV stand in the living room.
She quickly wrapped herself in a robe and got out of bed.
When she reached the phone and picked it up, the screen flashed: Liam Grant.
As if scalded, she immediately dropped the phone to the hardwood floor with a loud thud.
It didn't break. It just kept buzzing.
Deirdre scrambled to pick it up again, debating whether to hang up. But turning off the phone outright felt too guilty.
After a few seconds of hesitation, she gritted her teeth and answered.
Liam's voice came through, calm but cold. "Mr. Lee—what exactly happened to Ava at the gallery today?"
Deirdre quickly composed herself. Her voice softened to a honeyed tone. "Oh, Liam, it's you. James went to bed hours ago. It's so late—what's going on?"
