“It's Blayze Fowler.”

Tyrone briefly frowned in surprise. “Really? The son of the Fowler family should be a photographer?"

Kylan swallowed a lump in his throat, his hands shaking. “There's more than that," he mumbled. "He was the president of the International Association when Miss Chavez was studying abroad."

Tyrone stopped what he was doing and looked up. His heart was racing.

“What did you just say?"