The bathroom was warm, and just as she was about to fall asleep, Butler Santana shouted, "Miss Yale, your phone has rung several times."
She forced herself to perk up, "I'm coming."
"Okay."
Wiping the water off her body, Jasmine Yale came out in slippers.
Butler Santana had already prepared dinner, "Miss Yale, I don't know who is calling you, quite persistent, kept calling, I can't even remember how many times, maybe it's something urgent."
Jasmine Yale picked up her phone and glanced at the caller ID.
It was a call from Sylvan Cheney.
She closed the bedroom door, walked to the window, and waited for his next call.
Sure enough, less than two minutes passed before the words "President" appeared on the caller ID.
"Jasmine." The voice on the other end was somewhat hoarse.
"I'm here," Jasmine Yale calmly held the phone.
To her, his hoarse, deep voice sounded more like the exhaustion after indulgence.
