“Yes,” he said firmly, a trace of irritation slipping through his usually composed demeanor. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
But the words did nothing to reassure me. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if I should push for more details. Before I could decide, Alexander spoke again, softer now, almost tender.
“Ella, everything is under control. Trust me.”
I wanted to—desperately. But as the call ended and I stood there clutching my phone, a troubling thought gnawed at me. The voices I’d heard weren’t faint whispers or distant echoes; they were distinct and urgent.
What kind of meeting was he in? And why did it feel like Alexander was hiding something from me?
As I turned to leave, a text message appeared on my phone, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. The sen
