Tyrone closed the bedroom door and dialed up James. "Do me a solid, man. Warn Rachel to stay in line and stop playing her tricks. If she dares to touch Quintessa, I'll make sure she's toast in Emberbrook." After hanging up, Tyrone switched off his phone, stripped down, and slipped into bed. He pulled back the covers, peeled off one of Quintessa's shoes with a look of distaste, pulling her into his arms to sleep. After all, when he said he'd sleep in every day with her, he meant it.

The better Quintessa slept, the more Rachel seethed.

At the moment, Rachel was on the verge of losing it completely - her eyes bloodshot and her office a battleground of shattered office supplies. The computer, her cellphone, coffee mugs, and documents all over the floor.

Rachel, holding a knife, slashed a stuffed toy given to her by a subordinate, leaving not a single part of it untouched; its stuffing spilled out.

She muttered, "I knew it. I knew Quintessa wouldn't let me off, that b**** "

“B****, b****, b****. Why does she have to steal my man? Why couldn't she have died with her mother?"

get away with this, Quintessa. Nobody can take away what's mine now. You

grabbed the landline and dialed a number. "Hey, Kris, help

the receiver down, Rachel's

breathes, I will never

Quintessa, don't

that she slept like the dead until

caring whether Tyrone was there, and staggered straight to the

Cecilia had made were still there; they just needed

stove, Quintessa fixed her gaze on the pot, wishing she could

the soup spread, and Quintessa eagerly

in arms, she saw Tyrone leaning against the door frame, gazing at her with a deep look. Quintessa immediately held the bowl closer.

to the couch.

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