"Morning..." Her voice was soft and smooth but carried a hint of caution, was she feeling guilty because she had done something wrong? Atlas Hallow's thin lips almost pressed into a straight line, and the sharp contours of his face gradually emerged in the morning light.
"Have you had breakfast?" The man's rich, deep voice came through the phone, and Charlotte Miller instinctively nodded, "Yes, I've eaten."
"What did you eat?" The man on the other end of the line asked slowly, giving no clue to the anger simmering inside him.
"Jam toast, juice, and bacon..." she glanced at the plate, realizing she had missed something, "and eggs."
As her tension slowly eased, the man asked abruptly, "Where did you eat it?"
Her mind exploded—is this question an indication that he already knew something? Otherwise, he wouldn't have called out of the blue to ask these questions.
