Chapter 72


    “Is she pretty


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    Had he not seen women prettier than her?


    Good–natured?


    What a joke! He never knew a woman who could have such a foul temper.


    Kind?


    Bullcrap. He had never met anyone more malicious or deceitful than her,


    And yet, why did he, Tyrone, do such irrational things for her? He actually helped hermit murdert


    Tyrone red at Quintessa. When people are sleep, they usually lower their defenses, and maybe


    be less irritating.


    But she was different. Even in sleep, she still had her fists clenched, her brows furrowed, and her lips


    pursed; her face always carried a guard against the world.


    It seemed like anyone who got close would be bitten to


    th the


    xt second.


    After he stared at her for a good half hour, his calm exterior grew Increasingly agitated. Abruptly, he


    turned and grabbed his phone, stepping outside.


    Tyrone dialed a number: “Hey, it’s me. Erase all the surveince footage from the hospital tonight.”


    “Why?” asked the voice on the other end.


    Tyrone’s thin lips twisted into a cold smirk. “Why? It’s my family’s hospital. I want it gone. Got a problem


    with that?”


    After hanging up, Tyrone felt him unable to suppress the rage boiling inside him, so he tossed the


    phone aside and stormed back into the bedroom.


    He grabbed Quintessa’s slender ankle, “Get out. This is my bedroom.”


    Awakened again, Quintessa murmured, “Don’t bother me.”


    Tyrone gritted his teeth, “My bed!”


    Quintessa gave azy kick, “I’ve slept with you. What’s a bed to me?”


    Tyrone was speechless.


    The next second, Tyroney in bed and pulled the entire nket over himself.


    He thought Quintessa would leave once she got cold enough, but she curled up on the edge, looking


    like she might fall off at any moment, and continued to sleep soundly. It seemed as though the harsh


    conditions didn’t affect her at all.


    She didn’t even seek warmth like others would; she justy, there, still.


    Tyrone exhaled a defeated breath. After all that fuss, he was the one who ended up shortchanged.


    He raised his foot; a simple nudge would send Quintessa toppling off.


    But after a few seconds, he retracted his foot and turned away, ignoring her.


    ? ?? ? ? ?? ??? ??


    Tyrone figured he’d be too angry to sleep, but to his surprise, he dozed off quickly.


    Quintessa woke up, feeling chilled to the bone. Sitting up, she saw Tyrone under the covers on the


    other side, with more than a meter between them, like an uncrossable chasm.


    Being expressionless, Quintessa got out of bed, got dressed, grabbed her shoes, and left the room


    barefoot.


    And then.


    The moment Quintessa stepped out of the bedroom, the front door swung open from outside.


    In walked a matronly woman.


    ?


    Both were momentarily stunned.


    The woman quickly recovered, and her expression was exaggerated as she pointed at Quintessa,


    “Who are you? What are you doing in my son’s house?”


    Quintessa understood immediately. Thisdy, dressed sovishly, was clearly a woman of leisure. She


    slowly put on her clothes and said indifferently, “What else? I came to sleep with your son. What else


    could it be?”