Layla, please save me

In the quiet afternoon, Lucius reached for his phone and dialed Sylvia's number. The call rang endlessly before switching to voicemail.

Frowning, he ended the call and immediately redialed. Sitting in his leather swivel chair, he tapped his fingers tapping against the glass surface of his desk.

When the second call went unanswered, he lowered the phone slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line. A quiet murmur escaped him, laced with unease, "She's never ignored my calls before."

For a moment, he resisted the urge to overstep, to pry into her life, but he was worried too. With a resigned sigh, he picked up the phone again and scrolled through his contacts until he found Morgan Sinclair, a trusted confidant in the States who discreetly kept an eye on Sylvia's well-being.

The call was answered after a few rings.

"Lucius!" Morgan exclaimed as he rested his coffee mug on the counter table. "It must be afternoon there," he said.