Meanwhile, Shane ventured out in search of Horace, while a servant swiftly entered, bearing a tray laden with tea.
Gesturing wordlessly, Tyrone signaled the servant to place the tray on the table. He scanned the study’s layout briefly, then
withdrew his scrutiny.
Shane rapped lightly on Horace’s bedroom door, securing permission before gently pushing it open.
“Sir, Tyrone’s arrived.”
Angela’s Library
Horace, now garbed in a pristine suit, meticulously adjusting his collar, asked, “Did he say something?”
A furrow appeared on Shane’s brow as he replied, “I asked him, but all he mentioned was an impending discussion with you. He
didn’t mention the subject at hand.”
Seasoned and weathered, Shane, having served Horace through myriad triumphs and tribulations, had mastered the art of
maintaining composure through any storm.
Yet, the look Tyrone had just cast in his direction sent an unexpected ripple of nerves through Shane.
Little wonder Tyrone bore the mark of Horace’s lineage, a figure of unmistakable distinction.
“Proceed with your work. I’ll come shortly,” Horace directed.
“Understood.”
Coming to a halt at the study’s door, Horace drew a deep breath, willing himself to an even keel, before pushing the door open.
“Mr. Fowler.” In deference, Tyrone stood and extended his hand in a composed manner.
“Very well, Mr. Blakely, do take a seat.”
Horace shook hands with Tyrone and gave him a sidelong glance to check whether Tyrone had known about his true identity.
Looking at Tyrone’s composed countenance, Horace surmised the latent power within him, who had unexpectedly assumed
control of the Blakely Group upon Cesar’s passing.
Sporting a genial smile, Horace positioned himself opposite Tyrone, adopting a familiar tone.
“Given your temperament, you truly merit the accolade of Mathias’ most illustrious entrepreneur. I’ve seen your interviews and
desired this meeting, though your unexpected presence catches me off guard. Please, indulge in some tea.”
Tyrone offered a polite smile.
“Your praise is generous, Mr. Fowler.”
“I’m telling the truth. Should it not trouble you, let us dispense with formalities. You may call me Horace, and I, in turn, shall
address you as Tyrone. How does that strike you?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Horace’s smile faltered, replaced by a bemused expression on hearing Tyrone’s refusal.
Traditionally, such a statement would elicit immediate compliance.
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