Alicia stood up, startled—Tyrone was back? But hadn't he said he wouldn't return until next Friday?
"He changed his plans," Wilma murmured, looking guilty. "I… told him you had come back today, Miss, and that's why he rushed home. It's my fault—I shouldn't have said anything. Now he's upset."
A ripple of anxiety shot through Alicia. Was Tyrone regretting the arrangement? Had Melanie thrown a fit, and now he wanted out?
She hurried toward the living room, her mind whirling with worry. If Tyrone called off their deal now, she'd be in real trouble.
Inside, Melanie stood beside the sofa, eyes red and watery, her expression wounded and defiant—she'd clearly been crying. Tyrone sat on the couch, tension radiating off him like a storm cloud.
Alicia hovered uncertainly in the doorway, unsure whether to approach. She was afraid—afraid Tyrone might take his anger out on her. After all, technically, he was her boss now.
"Mr. Lynch?" she managed, her voice tight.
Tyrone glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Apologize."
Alicia felt a surge of injustice. She knew she had to rely on Tyrone for now, but it stung that he'd so quickly take his old flame's daughter's side, no questions asked.
"…I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry!" Melanie spat at the same time, her apology laced with fury.
They both froze, glancing at each other—who was supposed to be apologizing to whom?
Melanie glared at Alicia, her voice trembling with anger. "You tattletale! I'm sorry!"
Alicia blinked, bewildered, and looked to Tyrone for direction.
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