Perhaps because he was born out of wedlock.

His very existence was seen as a mistake from the very beginning.

In the middle of the night, a black Cayenne eased into the underground parking lot of the hotel, temporary home to the Cloudwater Town film crew.

“We’ve arrived, sir,” the driver announced, glancing at Tyrone’s resting form reflected in the rearview mirror.

“Okay,” Tyrone murmured, his eyelids remaining shuttered, his form suggesting sleep.

Detecting the strong scent of alcohol in the car, the driver hesitated, unsure whether to persist in reminding him.

Two minutes later, a shift in the back seat broke the silence.

pockets and took out his

momentarily before a surprised woman’s voice greeted

the parking lot

eye on her, Galilea knew that he would not spoil

longer could she force him into meeting her using her life as a bargaining chip. Instead, she had to film while awaiting her next

anticipate him coming to her in the dead of night just two

exclaimed, the sleepiness evaporating from her

new outfit. However, before proceeding, she had a sudden realization. Walking up to

in disarray from just waking up, and her eyes showed signs of lingering drowsiness.

moment’s consideration, she slicked on some lipstick, threw on a short coat from her closet, grabbed her room key,

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