Scars Of A Broken Bond by Calv Momose

After some contemplation, she deftly fried four eggs and assembled four sandwiches.
If Bettie inquired, she could readily claim they were intended for the director.
Bettie had not yet made an appearance, and Sabrina gracefully strode to her door, calling out, “Bettie, get up and have some
breakfast!”
Three seconds later, Bettie’s drowsy tones emanated from the room, “Sabrina, I neglected to mention that I have a day off today
and shan’t require breakfast.”
Sabrina drew a deep breath and replied, “Very well...”
With breakfast in hand, she entered the room and presented Tyrone with two sandwiches and a glass of milk, saying, “Bettie has
forgone her morning breakfast today, so I offer this to you.”
Tyrone cast a glance at the sandwiches and repositioned himself at the head of the bed.
“Alright, thank you.”
“In addition, Bettie is not going to work today. She’s asleep currently. When your secretary delivers your attire, kindly be discreet
and refrain from disturbing her,” Sabrina added with a hint of guilt in her tone.
“Of course.” Tyrone quirked an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes.
She was afraid that Bettie would find him here, but she said that she was afraid of disturbing Bettie.
Following their meal, Tyrone dialed Kylan using Sabrina’s phone.
With the script in hand, Sabrina headed for the film set. As she departed, she reiterated her plea to Tyrone, beseeching him not
to disturb Bettie.
Approximately twenty minutes later, Kylan arrived, bearing Tyrone’s attire.
He rapped emphatically on the door and inquired, “Is anyone inside?”
Five minutes hence, clad in her pajamas, Bettie opened the door with an air of irritation. She fixed her gaze upon Kylan before
her and queried, “And who might you be?”

Kylan cleared his throat and proffered the clothing he held.
“Good day. Miss Ramirez, am I correct? I am Mr. Tyrone Blakely’s secretary, dispatched to deliver his attire.”
“Why, might I inquire, have you dispatched attire to Tyrone at this location...”
Midway through her statement, Bettie’s faculties were abruptly restored. Her eyes fluttered open and, with an incredulous tone,
she demanded, “Excuse me? Could you kindly repeat your earlier words?
What is this about?”
“I’ve come to deliver Mr. Blakely’s clothing,” Kylan replied.
Bettie, now incoherent with shock, gestured toward the living room behind her, stammering as she mumbled, “You... You mean
Tyrone is here at this very moment?”
Kylan nodded gravely, stating, “Indeed. Mr. Blakely apprised me over the phone of his presence in Miss Chavez’s room.”