The phone on his desk began to ring, the shrill sound cutting through the tense silence like a knife. Miguel reached for it, his expression unreadable.
"Hello?" he said, his voice cold and flat.
"Miguel!" a female voice exclaimed on the other end. "It's your mother. How are you, son?"
Miguel let out a small sigh. "I'm fine, Mom," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "What can I do for you?"
"Oh, Miguel, don't be so cold with me," his mother chided, her voice warm and concerned. "I heard about what happened to Joanna. I'm so sorry. Is she doing better?"
"She's recovering," Miguel said, his voice tight with frustration. "And don't worry about it, Mom. It's nothing to concern yourself with."
His mother's voice grew more insistent. "But I am concerned, Miguel! Joanna is family now, and I want to know what happened. What happened to her?"
