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The ring of the telephone jolted Anna awake, cutting through the peace of her Sunday morning. She had been enjoying the peaceful quiet, the soft rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains, when the shrill sound of the phone shattered the calm. With a groan, Anna reached for the receiver, still half-dazed from her interrupted sleep.

"Hello? It’s Anna speaking." she muttered, her voice thick with grogginess.

There was a brief silence on the other end before a voice with an English accent spoke, sending a chill down her spine.

"Hi, is this Anna Raynott?"

"Yes," she replied, her pulse quickening. "Who’s calling?"

The voice on the other end hesitated for a moment, as if weighing its next words carefully.

"My name is Lucian Lay," the man finally said, his tone clipped and professional. "Apologies for the unexpected call, but this is important. And I really need your help."

Anna sat up, gripping the phone tighter. "I am sorry, my help? With what?"

There was another pause, then Mr. Lay spoke again, his voice laced with urgency. "My daughter has been missing for a week now. And I believe the author you worked with before, Julian Marlowe’s book — The Silent Shadow — has something to do with it."

Anna’s breath caught in her throat. It's the first time she hears that name in two years. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “But you must have the wrong person. I don’t know who Julian Marlowe is.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, heavy with unspoken tension. Then, Lucian spoke again, his voice calm but insistent.

“Mrs. Raynott, we both know that’s not true.”

Anna’s fingers tightened around the receiver. She glanced toward the window, half-expecting to see someone watching from the street below. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m just an editor. I haven’t worked in publishing for years.”