Scars Of A Broken Bond

His camera lay in shards at his feet. He looked up at Tyrone, who had risen to his feet, the words died in his throat.

Expressionless, Tyrone retrieved a business card from his pocket, tossing it dismissively to the floor. “How much is it? Get in touch with my secretary.”

Larry swiftly joined him, a reassuring hand on Tyrone’s shoulder, gesturing for him to keep his cool. To the crowd of reporters, he said, “My grandfather has passed away. We’re in mourning and unable to give any interviews. We can talk after the funeral.”

Still, a few persistent reporters took their chances, snapping photos from a distance, then quickly disseminating the news.

“At ten o’clock on November 1st, the news broke that Cesar Blakely, the chairman of Blakely Group, passed away at Healthwell Hospital due to illness.”

The attached image showed Tyrone, a picture of grief, seated by the emergency room’s door, the background blurred out.

The related news delved into the life of Cesar Blakely.

such news might have passed

more people now knew of Tyrone, and more people were following the

some comments were thoughtless, the majority of people expressed respect for Cesar, their virtual candles flickering beneath the

“Rest in peace.”

This is

felt a wave

rubbed her belly, setting her book

her screen time since

notification, she

now, it pinged