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.

rummaged in his pockets and took out his phone, dialing

surprised woman’s voice greeted him. “Tyrone? It’s

at the parking

eye on her, Galilea knew that he

she force him into meeting her using her life as a bargaining chip. Instead, she had to film

him coming to her in the dead of

right down!” Galilea exclaimed, the sleepiness evaporating from her

into a new outfit. However, before

her eyes showed signs of lingering drowsiness. Her chosen attire for sleep was a floral slip

some lipstick, threw on a short coat

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