FINDING MY MR RIGHT
Bryan said, frowning.
Ryan’s usual calm expression was replaced by quiet urgency.
“Sir, you really need to see this,” he repeated, placing the tablet on Bryan’s mahogany table.
Bryan frowned. “What is it?”
Ryan hesitated, then pressed play.
The large news logo flashed across the screen, followed by a video feed of Angela sitting in a studio chair — her hair disheveled, face red from crying, makeup streaked with tears. She was surrounded by microphones, flashing cameras, and a sympathetic reporter leaning close as if comforting her.
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