Hannah Hale's phone, left on the coffee table, suddenly rang. She walked over, glanced at the caller ID, and then stepped outside to take the call. "Hello, what's up?"
"It's almost time to head to the old residence. I'm coming to the hospital to pick you up now."
Nathan Redgrave's crisp, cool voice came through the receiver. His tone and attitude were much gentler than before, but Hannah Hale felt no happiness at all.
"Don't trouble yourself with a special trip to pick me up. I'm with Zachary Redgrave. We'll just head back to the old residence together later."
Hannah Hale's voice, calm and detached, held a faint, distant politeness that Nathan Redgrave could clearly detect.
"You saw the video, didn't you?"
"...Yes. This morning, I happened to go to the upstairs office to get a charger. I didn't mean to watch it..."
At this point, Hannah Hale couldn't continue. Her throat felt as if it were blocked by a waterlogged sponge, a raw, stinging feeling.
