“Forget about it."

She just wanted to donate money. It was a substantial amount, and she had established the foundation for that purpose alone. Moreover, she didn't want to exploit it for profit.

Tyrone understood that she still perceived herself as a commoner, someone who would call the police when in trouble.

Despite occasional worries, Tyrone was committed to safeguarding Sabrina.

"Don't worry about it. I'm here to protect you. You don't have to think you owe me anything unless you're still considering leaving,"

Tyrone reassured, fixing her with a meaningful gaze.

Sabrina was taken aback.

However, she quickly shifted gears, rolling her eyes and retorting, “No, you're just overly suspicious."

Yet, beneath her feigned seriousness, she grappled with the question of trust, particularly in the context of her father's death. Did she need to make a hasty exit?

“Let's not forget, you're quite the liar. I still vividly recall your fibs in Violetholt," Tyrone teased with a subtle smile.

Speechless, Sabrina pondered her next move.

Suddenly, a different thought crossed her mind, and she shifted the conversation, asking, "How come you have the key to my house?"

Tyrone produced the key from his pocket, placing it on the table.

Sabrina picked it up, baffled.

“Isn't this my key?"

"Yes."

"When did you find it?"

“Just this morning."

“Why was I not informed?"

"You were too busy eating a banana."