Tyrone ran quickly and caught up with Quintessa in the yard, grabbing her arm. "Quinn, what's wrong?"

Quintessa's hair hid her face as she tried to wriggle free from Tyrone's grip. "I've got something urgent. I really have to go."

Despite her efforts to remain steady, her voice trembled uncontrollably.

Tyrone's grip tightened. "Something's wrong. What happened? Talk to me, what's going on?"

The back of Tyrone's hand felt cool, and looking down, he saw a drop of water. He paused, then quickly reached out to brush aside the hair covering Quintessa's face-even though she dodged, he still managed to reveal a strand of her hair-underneath, he saw her face streaked with tears.

That single tear on his hand suddenly felt burning hot.

Tyrone froze on the spot, forgetting to take back his hand.

her head away, trying not to let Tyrone see her cry. She was desperate to leave, her voice hoarse. "The last meal my mom made for me was spaghetti alle vongole.

he felt a heaviness in his chest, a

her head, her voice involuntarily rising. "No, just leave

have been Quintessa's most vulnerable moment in front of Tyrone. Even three years ago, caught in a scandal and arrested in front of him, she had never

after all? A notorious, viper-hearted femme fatale, the fighter among mistresses. How could she cry? How was it possible for her to cry? Yet, the care and warmth Tyrone and

see her like this. She

of Quintessa like that, Tyrone wanted to rush up to hug her, kiss her, and give her warmth. Seeing her tears, he was willing to do anything just to make her stop crying. Perhaps, he had truly fallen

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