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?"

can take away what's mine now.

grabbed the landline and dialed a number. "Hey, Kris, help me track Quintessa's recent

slamming the receiver down, Rachel's face twisted

breathes, I will never

looking for death, Quintessa, don't blame

slept like the dead until 3 pm, awakened

not caring whether

soup and dishes Cecilia had made were still there; they just needed

pot, wishing she could turn up

soup spread, and Quintessa eagerly ladled out a

frame, gazing at her with a deep

followed her to the

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