Chapter 88
Quintessa just wanted Tyrone to get the hell out. She didn't have time to waste on his nonsense. Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth like Tyrone, who seemed to have it all, fear nothing, and control everything. All that he possessed was a stark contrast to Quintessa’s meager existence. It wasn't long ago that even the thought of surviving another day felt like a luxury to her.
Lifting her chin defiantly, she sneered, “If you're gonna fight, then bring it on. If you're gonna kill me, just do it already. And if you're not gonna do a damn thing, then get lost. I've got a million better things to do than waste my time with you.”
Tyrone squinted his eyes and said with a hint of intrigue, “Alright then, since you're so eager, let's
begin.”
An hour passed, and Quintessa was drenched in sweat, utterly exhausted without an ounce of strength left.
Through it all, not a single tear escaped her eyes.
Tyrone was puzzled. Was this woman incapable of crying?
Anyone else might have been reduced to tears by now.
But Quintessa did not beg. She did not cry. She showed nothing.
She always remembered what someone once told her: A woman's tears are only powerful in front of someone who cares about her. Otherwise, they're worthless.
Why should she cry in front of a bastard like Tyrone? What gave him the right to see her at her weakest?
Tyrone hadn't laid a hand on Quintessa, but his scorn was worse than physical harm.
He didn't want her and dismissed her as filthy, even though it seemed to take every ounce of his self-control not to touch her.
Quintessa laughed bitterly, thinking to herself, “He finds me disgusting, yet he can't keep away from me? Who's the real wretch here, him or me?”
Drained, Quintessa no longer had the strength to hold herself up. Tyrone’s anger subsided a bit as he saw her powerless form, and he suddenly felt an odd sensation stirring within him.
He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his fingers and lightly touched Quintessa’s face, warning, “From now on, keep it straight. Don't tick me off again. You'll only be bringing trouble on yourself.” Opening her eyes, Quintessa showed no sign of surrender or compromise. She said in a hoarse voice, “That role was meant to be mine. I was just claiming what belonged to me. What's wrong with that? Why should I care about pleasing you? What makes you think you matter to me?”
Who cared about whether she was happy or struggling?
Frowning, Tyrone retorted, “It's just a supporting role. Was it really worth all this scheming? If you wanted it so badly, why didn’t you come to me?”
Quintessa looked at him with scorn, “Come to you, and you'd help me? Why would you? By spending a night with you, I'd have you hand it to me? How would that be any different from sleeping with Jerome?”
Besides, she hadn't slept with Jerome, yet still got what she wanted
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Chapter 88
It would take a brain filled with Botox te choose Tyrone over that.
She was new in town, still finding her footing with no real clout. She couldn't compete with their power and influence.
But Quintessa could still claim what she wanted on her own terms.
Quintessa kept these thoughts to herself, though. She wouldn't tell Tyrone about it because he wouldn't believe her. Nobody did.
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