Once Cast-Off Wife Now Untouchable Queen novel Chapter 433

**TITLE: A Message On Whatsapp 433**

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

The clock struck 3 p.m. at the Winter Group office, where the atmosphere buzzed with a blend of urgency and routine.

Noel, with a soft knock, entered the room, placing two elegantly designed invitations on Tyrone’s polished desk, the sunlight catching the edges and making them glimmer.

“Mr. Winter,” he announced, his tone professional yet tinged with a hint of excitement. “Mr. Wachowski from Goldilock Investments is hosting a charity gala and has specifically requested your presence alongside Ms. Raine.”

Just then, Raine made her entrance, knocking lightly before stepping inside. Noel, sensing the brewing storm, excused himself to prepare tea, leaving the two to grapple with the unfolding situation.

Tyrone, rising from his chair, regarded her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. “Why didn’t you make it to campus today?” he inquired, his voice steady yet gentle.

Raine plopped down into his executive chair, her expression darkening, a storm cloud hovering over her features. “Grandpa’s insisting I attend the Wachowskis’ charity gala. I made it clear I wasn’t interested, and Dad just laid into me. John has been pursuing me for three long years and shows no signs of stopping. Tyrone, you need to think of something—fast.”

Tyrone’s long fingers drummed rhythmically against the desk, a sign of his contemplation. “Your grandpa has already given his word to the Wachowskis. If you skip it, it’ll reflect poorly on the family. Just go, put in an appearance, and then you can leave.”

Raine shot up from the chair, her eyes blazing with indignation. “You know exactly what Grandpa means by that invite! Are you really okay with me going alone? You can’t be serious!”

With a calm demeanor, Tyrone slid both invitations across to her, the paper sliding smoothly over the desk’s surface. “If you want to avoid Grandpa orchestrating an engagement for you, then beat him to the punch—choose someone you genuinely like and set it up yourself.”

“Finding a man isn’t as simple as picking out a handbag! It’s not that straightforward!” she retorted, her frustration boiling over as she snatched the invitations and stormed out of the office.

Noel, ever the supportive colleague, walked her to the door before returning to Tyrone. “Mr. Winter, are you truly comfortable with Ms. Raine going alone?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

Tyrone lowered his gaze, contemplating the complexities of familial bonds. “Every force meets its match. Someone will accompany her,” he replied, a hint of resolve in his voice.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that his sister was deliberately blind to the truth before her—clinging to Brad, referring to him as “big brother,” as if that would magically resolve everything. Brad, for his part, was too cautious to lay his feelings bare, fearing that doing so might jeopardize their already fragile dynamic.

In a previous life, Tyrone had let things unfold organically, but that approach had left them stagnant, never reaching the happy conclusion he had hoped for. He had passed away without witnessing the love story that could have blossomed between them.

Aella had once confided in him that after his death, Brad had taken it upon himself to look after Raine and their parents, doing far more for them than anyone had ever acknowledged.

Raine had come to see Brad as her sole pillar of support, the one person she could truly rely on.

In Tyrone’s heart, he knew that Brad was his most genuine friend—and the best potential partner for his sister.

This time, he was determined to give them the nudge they needed. He wanted to see them together, truly together.

Later that evening, as Tyrone stepped through the door of his home, he was met by none other than Brad, who stood waiting on the threshold, a look of agitation on his face.

Tyrone, dressed in a dark lounge set, sank into the couch and poured a drink for Brad, who flopped down beside him, his restlessness palpable.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what that Wachowski kid is after,” Brad grumbled as he accepted the glass, irritation clear in his voice. “What’s so special about a stupid charity gala anyway?”

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