“Call my father,” I said.
Cole laughed once. Evelyn scoffed.
They had no idea who he really was.
Cole’s phone rang.
The ringtone cut through the kitchen like a siren. He glanced at the screen, rolled his eyes, and smirked like the universe existed to amuse him.
“Great,” he muttered. “Your dad.”
He answered on speaker without moving. “Yeah?”
A man’s voice came through—calm, low, precise. Not loud. Not emotional. The kind of voice that made people listen.
“This is Grant Mercer,” the voice said. “Who is this?”
Cole snorted. “Cole. Hannah’s husband. It’s after midnight—she’s being—”
“Put Hannah on,” Grant Mercer said, cutting through Cole’s words like they were background noise.
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