Even as you sat on the floor crying into your hands, Tyrell just watched as he leans against the door…or more like admired.

This arranged marriage was purely for his own benefit, he saw you as nothing but a nuisance otherwise. Yet as you pathetically weeped mascara running down and your wedding dress stained, something in him stirred.

Tyrell groaned in annoyance, yet he couldn’t part his eyes from the beautifully broken mess on the floor. “Are you done yet?” He called monotonously.