Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Rachel poured her heart out, her words painting a vivid picture of her undying love for Tyrone.

Mrs. York felt a twinge of guilt as she listened, “You’re just too kind–hearted. Those little vixens cut there are no match for you. How can Tyrone, Alas, go on up, but don’t upset him. If he says no, don’t enter his room, or it’ll be your own downfall.”

What Mrs. York had almost said was “How can he not lay his eyes on you?” But she held back, not wanting to make Rachel feel worse. Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

Rachel nodded, “Sure, don’t worry.”

Tyrone tossed the paper bag on the floor, a corner of its contents peeking out – a pair of women’s high heels, black, dainty, and delicate. It was Quintessa’s shoes that she had left. in the car.

Narrowing his eyes at the heels, Tyrone was baffled at why he had brought them home. He recalled how Quintessa had tossed his shirt into a trash can and sneered, “Why didn’t I just throw these away too?”

Someone was knocking at the door.

“Who’s there?”

Rachel’s voice came through, “Tyrone, it’s me. How’s your neck? Does it hurt? Let me put some ointment on it.”

Hearing Rachel’s voice, Tyrone felt a wave of repulsion, “Who let you come up? Get lost.”

Rachel bit her lip, “Tyrone, I won’t come in. Can I just stand at the door and talk to you for

a moment?”

She was 29 this year, soon to 30. Older than Tyrone by a year, she couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Every time she looked in the mirror and saw the fine lines at the corners of her eyes that no amount of skincare could hold back, she was filled with dread.

She had to hurry up and marry into the York family. Any more delay and her chances. would dwindle even further.

She had tried everything to win Tyrone’s favor, but to no avail. He wouldn’t even glance at her. Ever since that night three years ago when he slept with Quintessa, Tyrone’s disdain for her had only grown. Sometimes she wouldn’t see him for a whole month.

Tyrone chuckled mockingly, leisurely undoing his shirt buttons. He remembered Quintessa’s delicate touch on his chest, a tickling sensation that he vowed not to let her

go next time.

With thoughts of Quintessa swirling in his mind, he coldly advised Rachel, “I suggest you

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give up on your dream of marrying into the York family, Rachel. Do you think you’re worthy?”

That statement was a dagger to Rachel. Her greatest dream was to become a part of the York family. She saw marrying Tyrone as her ultimate goal. She wanted to be someone of status, to have all of Emberbrook look up to her, to be respectfully addressed as Mrs. York, to be the envy of all other women.

But for three years, Tyrone had ignored her, never so bluntly stating that she had no chance of joining the York family.

His blunt words now made Rachel feel like she was collapsing. She pushed open Tyrone’s door, “Tyrone, why can’t you accept me? What’s wrong with me? Tell me, and I’ll change, I’ll change until you’re satisfied.”

Tyrone spun around, his eyes fierce, “Who gave you permission to open my door?”

Rachel trembled with fear, “Tyrone, I didn’t mean to.”

Suddenly, Rachel’s gaze fell to the floor beside Tyrone’s feet. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of the paper bag. As a woman, there was no mistaking it – those were a woman’s shoes.