From Discarded Wife to Queen (Tyrone) novel Chapter 433

**Obsidian Dawn 433**
**Chapter 433: Black-Hearted Piece of Crap**

The clock struck three in the afternoon, casting a soft glow in the CEO’s office at Winter Group. The atmosphere was charged with the weight of decisions yet to be made. Noel, the diligent assistant, knocked lightly before entering, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. With a crisp motion, he placed two elegantly designed invitations on Tyrone’s desk, each one a gateway to a world of social obligation.

“Mr. Winter,” Noel began, his voice steady, “Mr. Wachowski from Goldilock Investments is hosting a charity gala and has specifically requested your presence, along with Ms. Raine.”

As if summoned by the mention of her name, Raine knocked gently on the door before entering, her demeanor slightly frazzled. She made her way to the small kitchenette in the corner, the sound of the kettle bubbling adding a layer of domesticity to the otherwise formal office.

Tyrone, noticing her entrance, stood up, his brow furrowing with concern. “Why didn’t you go to campus today?” he inquired, his voice laced with curiosity.

Raine plopped herself down into the plush executive chair, her expression a mixture of frustration and defiance. “Grandpa’s insisting I attend the Wachowskis’ charity gala. I told him no, and Dad went off on me. John has been pursuing me for three years, and he just won’t take a hint! Tyrone, you’ve got to help me—think of something, and do it fast!”

Tyrone’s long fingers drummed against the desk, a thoughtful gesture that belied the urgency of the situation. “Your grandfather has already given his consent for you to attend the gala. If you skip it, it could reflect poorly on our family. Just show your face and get it over with, Raine.”

Raine shot up from her seat, her frustration palpable. “You know exactly what Grandpa means by that invite! Are you really okay with me going alone?” Her voice held a note of disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom his indifference.

With a calm yet firm gesture, Tyrone slid both invitations across the desk toward her. “If you don’t want Grandpa to set up an engagement for you, then beat him to it—choose someone you actually like and take charge of your own life.”

“Finding a man isn’t like picking out a handbag! It’s not that simple!” Raine snapped back, her temper flaring as she snatched the invitations from the desk, her frustration spilling over.

Noel followed her to the door, concern etched on his face as he returned to Tyrone’s side. “Mr. Winter, are you truly comfortable with letting Ms. Raine go to the gala alone?” he asked, his voice low.

Tyrone lowered his gaze, contemplating the implications of Raine’s independence. “Every force meets its match. Someone will go with her,” he replied, a hint of determination in his tone.

He couldn’t help but reflect on his sister’s stubbornness. She was so determined to ignore the obvious—calling Brad “big brother” as if that would magically solve everything. Brad, on the other hand, had been too cautious, never daring to lay his feelings on the table, fearing it might strain their bond.

In a past life, Tyrone had allowed things to “develop naturally,” and as a result, they had remained at a standstill until the very end. He had died without witnessing their happy ending, a fate he was determined to change this time around.

Aella had once told him that after his demise, Brad had taken it upon himself to watch over Raine and their parents, doing more for them than anyone realized. Raine had come to rely on Brad, viewing him as her steadfast ally in a world that often felt overwhelming.

Brad was Tyrone’s closest friend and, in his eyes, the best chance for his sister’s happiness. This time, Tyrone was resolved to give them a nudge in the right direction. He wanted to see them together—properly, and without the interference of their families.

That evening, as Tyrone returned home, he found Brad standing at the door, his expression a mix of agitation and resolve.

Tyrone, dressed in a dark lounge set that exuded both comfort and authority, settled onto the couch and poured Brad a drink, the rich aroma of whiskey filling the air.

Brad flopped down beside him, restless energy radiating from him. He took the glass and grumbled, “Don’t pretend you’re oblivious to what that Wachowski boy is after. What’s so special about a stupid charity gala anyway?”

Tyrone shrugged, his tone casual yet pointed. “Trash or not, the Wachowski boy is still your cousin. Mind your words.”

Brad nearly choked on his drink, swallowing hard as seriousness washed over his face. “My family is pushing me into an engagement—they brought the girl home without even consulting me! I’m already on edge as it is; don’t pile more onto my plate. You take Raine on Saturday.”

After a battle with himself, he finally sent her a text, the words feeling both urgent and inadequate.

Ten minutes passed, each tick of the clock amplifying his anxiety. No reply came.

The silence gnawed at him, a growing irritation.

Another ten minutes slipped by, and he steeled himself, placing a video call.

Aella answered instinctively, having just stepped out of the shower, droplets of water still glistening on her skin.

Her expression was neutral as she recognized him on the screen. “Tyrone,” she greeted, her voice steady.

He quickly inquired if she had eaten and how her accommodations were treating her.

Aella responded politely, her demeanor suggesting she was ready to hang up and seek rest.

His tone quickened, urgency threading through his words. “Before you go to bed, check the doors and windows. Make sure you throw the deadbolt. And tomorrow…”

The conversation lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken feelings and unresolved tensions, as Tyrone fought against the encroaching silence, desperate for connection in a world that felt increasingly distant.