Scars Of A Broken Bond

Observing the pained expression etched across Sabrina’s visage, Galilea reveled in an overwhelming sense of contentment.

How was it that Sabrina seemed to effortlessly secure her desires under Tyrone’s protective wing, while she, in her quest for a foothold within the elite circle, had to sacrifice her dignity to appease a cabal of elderly gentlemen?

Why did Tyrone readily accept Sabrina, unwavering even in the knowledge that Sabrina had given birth to a baby abroad?

Given Tyrone’s acceptance of that, Galilea pondered whether he would similarly embrace this.

Sabrina had naively believed that, by heeding her wishes, she would testify against the kidnappers. How stupid Sabrina had been!

Following a series of close-up shots, once the director had called “cut,” Sabrina swiftly turned on her heels, deftly retrieving her down jacket and slipping it on.

Sabrina, “You may now depart. But do remember to come to my residence early tomorrow.

“Don’t

“Yes.”

made her way to the dressing room to change, shedding the wig, meticulously attending to her appearance, and

his shoulders and back ached with discomfort and

chair’s backrest, he massaged his forehead, gently closing his eyes to steal a moment’s rest. Suddenly, his phone

resting place, and his narrowed gaze Locked onto the screen. His fist

an image of a man intimately embracing a

His gaze fixated on the man in the photograph, a malevolent desire for retribution coursing through