The phone on the bedside table kept ringing.
Avery Jane struggled to prop herself up and picked it up: "Avery Jane, it's Beckett Wright."
The voice on the other end was clean and bright.
Holding the commemorative album in her hand, this was specially customized by Grant, several of Avery Jane's photographed images were inside, along with a beautifully expensive platinum bracelet as a souvenir.
This is only given to super VIPs, not available on the market, Beckett specially reserved a set for Avery Jane.
It's the gift he wanted to give her.
"Hello, do you need anything?"
Avery Jane spoke weakly, her throat felt as if it had been scraped by rough sandpaper, painfully burning.
"Are you sick? Avery Jane, what's wrong with you?"
Beckett could tell from the phone that her voice was different, like a dying little animal, emitting a faint, powerless sound.
