"Hey, hey, hey!" Joyce was shocked and called back in a hurry.

But all that awaited her was, "Sorry, the number you have dialed is not available."

It's as if the caller just now never existed.

She stared at the phone in a daze, intense unease and fear of the unknown gradually overwhelmed her. Her head was swollen and her heart was pounding violently. This was not a prank, but a threat!

Stephanie was the only one in the Warner residence today, and Mr. Arnold was not there either. Was it a mugging? What did they want when they asked her to go alone? To ask for money? Unlikely, she could not pay them, so why would they ask her for it? Or maybe Stephanie was threatened and asked the mugger to call her? How else would the people know her phone number?

She had absolutely no clue and could not analyze it.

She didn't dare bet on it, even though she knew the call was doubious.

She couldn't call the police either. If Stephanie was really in danger, she couldn't afford to risk her life.

After getting along for a long time, she had long considered Stephanie as her own grandmother. How could she watch her loved one in trouble and not save her?

She opened her backpack, took out the pistol Luther had given her, and pinned it to her waist. Since the attack, she usually carried the pistol with her.

Right now, she would just have to go back to the Warner family no matter what the situation would be, and no matter how bad the situation could be.

She came to the elevator hall, and saw that the elevator was still stuck on above 50th floor. She did not have the time to wait, simply got into the emergency stairway, rushed downstairs, all the way to the road, and reached out to stop a cab.

She opened the door and immediately got in, panting, and said to the driver, "No. 1 Sophora Street, please."

Along the way, she waited impatiently for the red light, looking at her watch over and over again.

The person who just called never called her again.

Callback was also useless.

"Please hurry up." Joyce kept urging, her heart hanging on.

"Miss, that's quite a heavy traffic on the road at this hour. I've already exceeded the speed limit!" The driver said helplessly. Joyce took two five hundred dollar bills out of her wallet and slipped them to the driver, "It's really an emergency, please." "Got it."

The driver drove all the way to the Warner mansion at No. 1 Sophora Street in less than half an hour, which usually took about 40 to 50 minutes.

Just before Joyce got to the house.

She took out her cell phone and hesitated. As they got closer and closer, she suddenly felt unprecedented fear and was tempted to call Luther, or send a text message.

Luther was abroad, and even if there was an emergency, he wouldn't be able to make it back in time. And, did he have any trust in herself?

"Hey Joyce, what's up." Juanita's sweet voice came.

After the phone call got through, Joyce opened the door and explained directly, "I don't have the time to explain to you now, I'm at the Warner residence, No. 1 Sophora Street, where I brought you last time. Listen, from now on, twenty minutes, if I call you within twenty minutes, it means it's okay. If I don't call you, you call the police."

"Joyce, what's going on? Do you want me to come over and help?" Juanita was shopping across the street from the group, and she had just bought a cup of coffee when she received the call from Joyce. Joyce's sudden serious tone scared her and the cup of coffee fell to the ground. The black liquid flowed everywhere. It gave her a bad feeling in her heart that something big was going to happen. "You must not come. Remember what I said, hang up." Joyce hung up the phone.

By this time, the cab had arrived at the door.

"Do we need to drive in?" The driver pointed to the large open iron gate, which looked to have a long stretch of road inside.

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