Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Tyrone strolled into the house, his clothes already freshly changed, a paper bag swinging

from his grip as he made his way into the living room.

It was past 11, yet the York family’s living room was alive with chatter.

“Tyrone, you’re back.”

With a drawl, Tyrone replied, “Mom, you’re still up?”

His mother, Mrs. York, stood from her seat, starting to say, “Well, I was just…”

Before Mrs. York could finish, the person next to her quickly interjected in a soft tone, “Tyrone, you’re home. I didn’t have much going on today, so I thought I’d drop by and check on Mrs. York. We got to talking and time just flew by.”

Tyrone’s gaze fell on Rachel, and he couldn’t even muster the effort to give her a cold look, “Mom, you’re not getting any younger. Why are you burning the midnight oil? Looking to add more wrinkles to

r collection?”

Mrs. York was indeed over fifty but had taken such good care of herself that she appeared to be in her early forties. She touched her face anxiously, “Oh dear, is that true?”

Impatient, Tyrone said, “I’m beat. I’m heading upstairs to bed.”

Mrs. York caught hold of him, “Hold on a sec. Rachel’s been waiting for you for quite a

while.”

“If she wants to wait, that’s her problem, not mine.” NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Tyrone had never given Rachel a second thought. A few years back, she had done a small favor for Mrs. York, earning her good graces, and since then she had been spreading rumors about being Tyrone’s fiancée.

Tyrone couldn’t care less, but Rachel was persistent. For three years, she endured being ignored by him, not even worth a glance, let alone a conversation. Still, she managed to keep up appearances, acting as if their relationship was rock solid.

Tyrone had never taken such a blatantly ambitious woman seriously. If it weren’t for the fact that she somehow kept his mother in high spirits, he would have had her dealt with long ago.

Mrs. York had hoped to get Tyrone to exchange a few words with Rachel but inadvertently noticed a mark on his neck, “Yikes, what’s happened to your neck? Who bit you? And what’s this?”

The area around the wound was smeared with the remnants of lipstick – the unmistakable sign of a recent rendezvous. He hadn’t bothered to clean up after his escapade before coming home!

Mrs York fumed inside, the brazenness of these temptresses knew no bounds. Her expression soured as she turned to look at Rachel, whose pale face and slender frame were trembling slightly, clearly shocked.

Mrs. York swatted Tyrone’s arm, “Look at you, getting worse every day. You’re a grown man with a girlfriend; It’s time to start acting like it.”

Tyrone, visibly annoyed, turned away, “I’m heading up. From now on, don’t let strangers stay in the house.”

Mrs. York called after him, “Tyrone, is that the way how you speak?”

She wanted to discipline her son, but she had never been able to control him. Being the only son of her, Tyrone had been headstrong from a young age, listening to no one, Insisting everyone listen to him instead. His domineering nature was well known, and he had grown from a little tyrant into a full–blown authority.

Today, his mood was relatively good, evident by the fact he exchanged a few words with her. But on his bad days, a mere cold glance from him could leave Mrs. York speechless.

Turning to Rachel awkwardly, Mrs. York suggested, “Rachel, maybe you should head home for now.”

Rachel’s eyes were red as she spoke, “Mrs. York, I just want to go upstairs and talk to Tyrone. I’m not mad at him; it’s just he can’t be so careless with women. He’s letting those loose women mark him up so badly. He might not care, but it hurts me to see him like

that.”