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.

my residence early tomorrow. Awaken me a half-hour

“Don’t you require my Presence at the

“Yes.”

way to the dressing room to change, shedding the wig, meticulously attending to her appearance, and then walking away from

his shoulders and back ached with discomfort and exhaustion had permeated

his forehead, gently closing his eyes

from its resting place, and his narrowed gaze Locked onto the

image of a man intimately embracing a scantily

by a tempest of rage and envy. His gaze fixated on the man in the photograph, a malevolent desire for retribution coursing through