Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny (Quintessa and Tyrone) novel Chapter 143

Chapter 143 

“Those breakfast muffins I got you cost more than this chump change, Quintessa. Can you be any cheaper?” 

Tyrone pinched the two coins in his hand, wishing he could just crush them. 

The door remained silent. Quintessa was making it clear–she wasn’t going to open up. 

“You just wait,” Tyrone growled. “Those muffins weren’t cheap. Make sure you pay me back next time.” 

With a furious huff, he turned on his heel. 

As he passed the trash bin, he was tempted to chuck the coins into it–forget the tip, did he look like a man who needed spare change? 

But he threw them with too much force. Instead of landing in the bin, the coins ricocheted out, clinking loudly on the pavement and rolling several feet away. 

Tyrone snorted in disdain. Who needs ‘em, anyway? 

He walked into the elevator, and just as the doors were nearly closed, a hand reached out. 

The doors slid open automatically and Tyrone, with a scowl plastered on his face, stepped out. 

He picked up the coins from the ground and pocketed them. As a decent citizen, you don’t just throw away currency–that’s just not right. 

Tyrone couldn’t help but wonder why he was subjecting himself to such misery. He must have been cursed these days, and have been bewitched by Quintessa, that little enchantress. 

Fuming, Tyrone made his way home and ran into his mother, who just returned from shopping. 

“Oh my, son! What on earth happened to you? When’s the last time you slept? You look like a ghost,” Cecilia exclaimed. 

In no mood for chit–chat, Tyrone snapped, “I got used and kicked to the curb, that’s what happened.” 

Cecilia gasped. “You? Got used and kicked? Good heavens!” 

The news was shocking to her. She knew her son well; he was no pushover, and to hear he’d been taken for a ride, it was almost unbelievable. 

Tyrone asked sarcastically, “What, you’re happy about it?” 

Cecilia quickly cleared her throat, “Ahem, of course not. Are you okay, dear?” 

“I’m fine, just played for a fool, that’s all.” 

Tyrone felt like an idiot. He knew Quintessa couldn’t stand him, and she probably despised him from the bottom of her heart, yet he’d confidently charged forward like a moth to a flame. 

Cecilia whispered, “Well, at least you’ve still got your dignity son.” 

Tyrone: “Mom.” 

He would have gladly sacrificed his dignity, but the opportunity never came. 

His pent–up frustration was half desire! He couldn’t even admit it–it was too embarrassing. 

Cecilia quickly waved it off, “Alright, I’ll stop. Go upstairs and get some rest.” 

As Tyrone ascended the stairs, he suddenly turned back, fixing his eyes on Cecilia’s neck. “You’re still in touch with Rachel.” 

His eyes were red, and his whole demeanor was off, giving an aura of menace about him. He stared at Cecilia, who instinctively covered the pearl necklace at her throat: “No, no contact, I swear. After our last talk, I cut her off. I just ran into her while shopping; she insisted that this necklace looked good on me, and bought it for me right there with everyone watching. It was awkward to refuse, and besides, it’s not like it’s worth much.” 

Tyrone’s voice was icy, brooking no argument: “Take it off.”