"Some psycho just called, claiming they have Simon Keats… What's it to me if they have him? Can't kidnappers even find the right person to demand a ransom from?"
As he was speaking, Summer Thorne was standing up. At the mention of "kidnapping" and "ransom," her high heel suddenly twisted to one side.
Summer Thorne hissed in pain.
Louis Sutton glanced at her from the sofa. He didn't move, just asked coolly, "You okay?"
Summer Thorne, however, had already sat back down on the shoe bench. After a moment of silence, she said to Louis Sutton, "Give me the phone."
"What for? You don't actually believe them, do you?"
While muttering under his breath, Louis Sutton still got up, walked over, and handed Summer Thorne the phone.
Summer Thorne took the phone and quickly checked the number of the call that had just come in.
Louis Sutton's gaze fell on her ankle. It was red and swollen.
