—This is David Miller, Anna's husband. His daughter is throwing a tantrum…
—Where is Anna?
My father's voice changed.
David frowned.
-Sorry?
—I asked where my daughter is.
I tried to speak from the ground.
-Dad…
There was silence.
Then my father's voice became terribly calm.
—David, put the phone next to Anna.
My husband let out a nervous laugh.
—Sir, I don't think you understand. My wife is exaggerating a minor family argument.
—Put the phone next to her.
David looked at me.
Something in that voice finally pierced his arrogance.
He left his mobile phone on the counter.
—Anna —my father said—, do you need medical attention?
-Yeah.
Are you safe?
I looked at Sylvia.
Then to David.
-No.
My father didn't ask any more questions.
—I'm sending help. You're not alone.
David immediately grabbed the phone.
—Who the hell does he think he is?
My father replied:
—Robert Bennett.
David laughed.
—And should I know that name?
