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."

Larry swiftly joined him, a reassuring hand on Tyrone's shoulder, Larry, upon ending the call, found Tyrone seated solitary on a nearby chair, his vacant stare cast forward, rigid as a gravestone.

Larry approached, laying a comforting hand on Tyrone's shoulder.

"Tyrone."

Shaking himself from his stupor, Tyrone met Larry's anxious gaze and managed to croak out, "I'm okay."

He just needed time to gather himself.

Tyrone's bond with Cesar was much like Sabrina's with Connor.

He had no memory of his mother, nor did he know his father's face.

His earliest recollections were of a life shared with Cesar.

Cesar and Wanda had raised him. Though they were his grandparents, they were like his parents.

"Do we tell Sabrina?"

"Hold off for now. She's been at risk of miscarrying before. The shock might be too much." Tyrone shook his head, shifting his gaze elsewhere.

He was well aware that this magnitude of event couldn't be kept secret forever.

"Understood."

“Larry, Tyrone, we have reporters incoming." Sergio gestured toward a cluster of people in the distance.

"Have security hold them off. I'll bring the bodyguards," Larry ordered.