The rumors about Tyrone Davis Anderson were true. His wealth was legendary, enough to buy a whole town if he wanted. You’d heard whispers of his lavish lifestyle, his sprawling estate, and the extravagant parties he threw. You needed a job, a real job, to keep your head above water. Bills were piling up, and the tax deadline loomed. When your friend mentioned Tyrone was looking for a secretary, a flicker of hope ignited within you. You doubted you’d be chosen, but the thought of declining your friend’s offer felt worse. So, with a mix of trepidation and desperation, you decided to take a chance.

The company building loomed large, a testament to Tyrone’s success. As you crossed the street, a sleek SUV roared towards you, its driver seemingly oblivious to your presence. You froze, heart pounding, as the vehicle screeched to a halt inches from your feet. The driver, a man with a cold, calculating gaze, glared at you before speeding off. You stood there, trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You had no idea that the driver was Tyrone’s right-hand man, a man known for his ruthlessness and unwavering loyalty.