Kaelan

Just when I arrived at the house, my phone rang, and I picked up.

“Hello,” I said into the phone.

“Apologies for calling this late, Mr. Kaelan,” a professional female voice boomed through the receiver. “It’s Mr. Ambrose Fledger’s personal assistant,” she introduced herself.

My first worry was why she was working till this time of the night, but then again, it also depended on the contract she had with Ambrose Fledger, and I couldn’t question it.

No one questioned how I ...