Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

What secret was buried in that photograph that made Tyrone suddenly blaze up with such fury? NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

Staring at the woman in the picture, Alexander felt that something was off.

He saw Tyrone flick his fingers a few times to send the photos to his own phone before systematically deleting each one from his device

Without a word to Alexander, Tyrone tossed his phone to Kevin and took off, not even bothering to say goodbye.

The room buzzed with shock. What the hell had gotten into Tyrone?

Alexander chased after him, with concern lacing his voice. “Tyrone, you okay, man? What’s with the photo? Is that rising starlet Zenobia somehow tied to you?”

Tyrone stopped and chuckled dryly. “Zenobia? Sure, Zenobia. I never imagined she’d make it this far.”

Everyone thought the woman in the photo was Zenobia.

But Tyrone wasn’t blind. Even without seeing her full face, even if she changed clothes and wore a wig. he’d recognize her anywhere–it was Quintessa.

-Quintessa!

Quintessa was damn cunning, stringing him along while also ensnaring Jerome.

No wonder she snagged the role back. So that’s how she played the game.

Well played, indeed!

For the first time, Tyrone felt he had been played.

And there he was, like a fool, waiting for Quintessa to come begging back, when clearly, she didn’t need to. Alexander sensed the turbulence. “Dude, what’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’ve got stuff to handle. We’ll talk later.”

Once outside, Tyrone called his assistant.

“Book me on the next flight to Zion City.”

James, woken in the wee hours by his boss’s voice, sensed trouble. “Mr. York, I’ve got tomorrow morning’s first.

Before he could finish, Tyrone cut him off sharply. “I need one now, immediately.”

James’s hand holding the phone trembled. This was bad.

Even through the call, he felt Tyrone’s terrifying rage. He knew Tyrone had a temper, but it had mellowed with age. Lately, things hadn’t been great, but he had never been like this; he was like a keg of gunpowder with a lit fuse, ready to explode.

James was glad he wasn’t by Tyrone’s side.

“Alright, I’ll check now, he said cautiously.

James scoured the flight schedules with shaking hands. No luck for tonight.

“Mr. York, there are no flights to Zion City tonight. Can I book you on the earliest one tomorrow?” he whispered.

Tyrone hung up without another word.

“Hello? Mr. York, Mr. York”

Holding the dead line, James wondered who the hell had stirred up trouble with the big boss this late, and ruined any chance of a peaceful night.

Tyrone tore back home; upon arriving, he skipped the living room and headed straight for the garage, then pulled out another sports car.

Mrs. York emerged, feeling startled. “What’s going on?”

“Just going out,” Tyrone said with a steady voice, betraying no hint of his inner storm.