Cecilia was fuming, flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. It wasn't typical for a mother to interrupt her son's feast. But worry had driven her to it, fearing that the person with him was none other than that little vixen. And to her dismay, her suspicions were confirmed.

She shot Quintessa a glare, "You're making things up. You just got here; it couldn't have finished so fast."

Quintessa casually draped an arm over Tyrone's shoulder, "Oh, but why not? Your son's always been quick."

Tyrone, already short on patience, darkened at her words. Quick? He hadn't even gotten to the good part yet. How could she say he was quick?

Tyrone turned around and his face immediately darkened.

Quintessa was wearing one of his oversized T-shirts, no one knows how she found it so quickly.

The men's clothes hung on her like a dress, making her look even more fragile and petite. She leaned forward, allowing him to look down the collar from his angle, seeing everything at a glance. Her slender and straight legs, as tender as newly sprouted willow branches in early spring.

This version of Quintessa reignited the flame Tyrone's mom had momentarily doused.

teeth, he said, "Who are you

her hair, teasing, "You, obviously. Did I say something

taken aback, began to

Quintessa chimed, "Auntie, didn't you say you made something delicious?

made it for my son,

and pulled Cecilia towards the kitchen, "Oh, come on, it's all

"Stop pulling me.

it off,

because you're going to be seeing a

son

smitten,

to stock up on

so furious that she couldn't

for words. Her son was right; she couldn't outplay this sly vixen, especially when her son

the two women bicker their way downstairs, Tyrone's face was

angrily kicked the door, "What was I thinking? A hotel would have been better than

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