Given Tyrone's acceptance of that, Galilea pondered whether he would similarly embrace this.

Sabrina had naively believed that, by heeding her wishes, she would testify against the kidnappers. How stupid Sabrina had been!

Following a series of close-up shots, once the director had called “cut," Sabrina swiftly turned on her heels, deftly retrieving her down jacket and slipping it on.

Galilea instructed Sabrina, "You may now depart. But do remember to come to my residence early tomorrow. Awaken me a half-hour before the commencement of shooting and prepare my breakfast."

Sabrina cast a dubious glance Galilea's way. “Don't you require my Presence at the moment?"

“Yes.”

Subsequently, Sabrina made her way to the dressing room to change, shedding the wig, meticulously attending to her appearance, and then walking away from the film set.

Tyrone had been swamped with work for the whole day. His eyes throbbed with fatigue, his shoulders and back ached with discomfort and exhaustion had permeated his entire being. Finally, respite beckoned.

Leaning wearily against the chair's backrest, he massaged his forehead, gently closing his eyes to steal a moment's rest. Suddenly, his phone emitted a discreet buzz.

Nonchalantly, he plucked the device from its resting place, and his narrowed gaze Locked onto the screen. His fist clenched and he gnashed his teeth in response.

Displayed in his phone was an image of a man intimately embracing a scantily clad Sabrina.

Tyrone was engulfed by a tempest of rage and envy. His gaze fixated on the man in the photograph, a malevolent desire for retribution coursing through his veins.

Another message arrived, bearing news from the sender that Sabrina was currently engrossed in filming, occupying the role of an assistant and stand-in for Galilea.

Tyrone suddenly grasped the reason behind Sabrina’s newfound role as Galilea's assistant. Yet, this revelation only stoked the embers of his fury, igniting a fiery storm within his eyes.

Sabrina's animosity toward Galilea was palpable, yet she had chosen to endure the indignity of being her assistant rather than seeking his aid!

How much did she dislike him? How intense was her loathing? How could she!

Tyrone, consumed by wrath, abruptly rose from his seat, his gestures a tempest of frustration.

Bang! A resounding cacophony ensued as the computer, keyboard, and folders on the table were swept to the floor with a thunderous crash.

The screen plunged into darkness. Beside him, Kylan held his breath, head bowed, endeavoring to make himself inconspicuous.

“Keep a vigilant eye on her now! I wish to witness the extent of her endurance!" Tyrone exclaimed, his teeth clenched as he tugged at his collar.