"James, come here."

"What can I do for you, Mr. York?"

"I've got a task for you."

Quintessa was wrestling with the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. She let out a sigh, wondering what on earth Tyrone was up to.

Quintessa rubbed her forehead, somewhat regretting coming to look for Tyrone.

Trapped, she glanced around Tyrone's office and noticed a photo of him with Mrs. York. In the picture, he had a youthful look, his arm around Mrs. York's shoulder, both the mother and the son wearing beautifu smiles.

Quintessa put the photo back down, feeling a mix of emotions. How could she not realize that Tyrone's intention in keeping her in the dark was to protect her?

But she wasn't used to being protected. She had long become accustomed to bracing herself against the treacherous tides of society, with spikes up and schemes at play. There had been times when she was left battered and barely breathing, and no one had offered her a helping hand. Now that she could protect herself, someone wanted to shield her.

most unexpected surprise in

get back at Rachel, but now, it seemed their lives were entwined in a

broke the silence. It wasn't Quintessa's phone. She turned to see Tyrone's phone vibrating on the

up. It was Mrs. York calling, labeled on the phone as "My Little

smile. Their relationship

preferring to knock on the door to let Tyrone take the

closed, and the phone

habit was: if her son didn't answer, she'd keep calling until

thought it might be an urgent matter. After a moment of hesitation,

she could speak,

rapid-fire monologue "Son, what are you doing that you took so long to answer the phone? Dilly-dallying, no wonder you haven't won the girl's heart yet. I'm getting on in years, yet I worry about you every day. Helping you with all those

to interject,

end paused abruptly, and after a moment, Mrs. York asked, "Ahem, ah, are you two together? Where's Ty? Maybe shouldn't have called now? I hang

face flushed at Mrs. York's insinuation. Mrs.

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