One brazen reporter darted to the emergency room. Then he directed the camera towards Tyrone. "Mr. Blakely, it is a pleasure to meet you.

Could you please...7?"

Bang.

His camera lay in shards at his feet. He looked up at Tyrone, who had risen to his feet, the words died in his throat.

Expressionless, Tyrone retrieved a business card from his pocket, tossing it dismissively to the floor. “How much is it? Get in touch with my secretary."