The atmosphere among the three was eerily tense, with others nearby starting to notice something amiss, quietly observing the scene.
Alexander, ever the rational one despite the whirlwind of anger and questions churning inside him, managed to speak, his voice rough, “Sorry, I must’ve mistaken you for someone else. Let me properly introduce myself, my name is Alexander.”
He reached out to shake Quintessa’s hand, but before he could touch her, Tyrone suddenly stopped him.
Tyrone wrapped an arm around Alexander’s shoulder, dragging him forward, “Come on, take me to see Serena. Since we’re here for her coming-of-age celebration, we've got to bring a gift.”
Alexander, however, stopped in his tracks and said coldly, “Gifts can be given at any time. Right now, you and I need to have a talk.”
Tyrone glanced sideways into Alexander’s cool eyes. Their gazes clashed like lightning strikes.
“Alright then.” Tyrone turned his head and kissed Quintessa on the cheek, “Sweetheart, find somewhere to sit, and don’t wander off.”
This display of affection irked Alexander immensely, causing him to clench his fists.
Quintessa slowly pushed Tyrone’s hand away, sparing neither man a glance as she turned to leave.
Used and angry? Not quite. After all, Quintessa had used Tyrone more times than he had used her; she didn’t have the right to be angry.
It was just she was disgusted. Tyrone knew everything but pretended to know nothing in front of her.
Deception and use, these two are not the same.
Tyrone glanced at Quintessa’s retreating figure, frowned, and then turned to leave with Alexander.
The two men left the banquet hall and found an isolated spot at the corner of the staircase, where no one was around.
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