Max
It was a few minutes past ten in the night when my phone trilled on the table, disrupting the otherwise quiet solitude of my study. I looked up from the manuscript I was working on, pushing the tortoise-shell glasses I'd recently gotten back over the bridge of my nose as I peered at the strange number on the screen.
I'd never seen that number before, and a part of me felt irritated. Perhaps it was Ivy, or one of the girls in the proofreading department. Sighing, I picked it up at last.
“Hello?”
“M-Mr Sturm?” Ivy's frightened voice set off my hackles. I rose from my chair quickly. Something was wrong.
“Ivy? What's wrong? You don't sound so good.”
“I'm so sorry,” she blurted out tearfully. “It's all my fault. She wanted to leave when the boys approached but I sto
