Scars Of A Broken Bond

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.

in his pockets and took out his phone,

momentarily before a surprised woman’s

at the parking lot of

eye on her,

using her life as a bargaining chip. Instead, she had to film while awaiting her next

didn’t anticipate him coming to her in the dead of

Galilea exclaimed, the sleepiness evaporating from

outfit. However, before proceeding, she had a sudden realization. Walking up to the mirror, she carefully assessed her

showed signs of lingering drowsiness. Her chosen attire for sleep was a floral slip nightdress, with the hemline reaching

threw on a short coat from her closet, grabbed her