Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

It was Orson.

He pulled back, then sidestepped to make room.

A man dressed in all black approached, his presence seemingly restrained under the harsh, white light, exuding danger. He glanced at Sylvia lying on the ground and reached out to drag her up. Sylvia winced in pain; she had scraped her palm on the ground when she fell.

The man's gaze briefly lingered on her wound before his deep voice broke the silence. "I'm still here. Still alive."

"But my mom and Edwin..."

Sylvia attempted to pull away, wanting to rush into the trash room to rescue them.

Rupert signaled Henry and Orson with a look, and the two dashed into the room. He then forcefully pulled Sylvia behind him. "What can you do in this state? Just wait."

Turning, he advanced towards the manager, his deep, bloodshot eyes locking onto the manager's.

The manager, recognizing the arrival, couldn't even dare to make a sound despite the pain. "Mr. Rupert." Rupert's gaze was disdainful as he stepped on the manager's twisted ankle with his polished shoes.

"Ah!" The manager couldn't hold back his scream.

"Lies have their consequences," Rupert stated coldly.

"I'm sorry! I was wrong! I won't dare to do it again," the manager pleaded, unable to even kneel.

"You shouldn't touch anyone from the Garcia family."

"Yes..."

As he spoke, Edwin and Naomi were rescued.

Naomi, half-conscious, still instinctively whimpered for help. Suddenly, she retched, vomiting not only liquid but bits of undigested, rotten bread.

Seeing this, Sylvia felt a chill run down her spine. Her eyes quickly filled with tears, and her chest tightened, as though being pounded, making it hard to breathe. She could hardly imagine what Naomi had gone through.

"Mom."

...

At the hospital.

After examination, the doctors found that Edwin was merely drunk, with no physical injuries.

He was, after all, Mr. Edwin of the Garcia family; no one dared to go too far.

But Naomi wąs in a much worse condition. She had been forced to drink excessively and had even needed her stomach pumped after ingesting rotten food. Deep marks on her limbs showed the brutality she had endured. It was evident that albthis was targeted at Naomi.

Sylvia, trembling, held Naomi's hand tightly.

Naomi, as if sensing her presence, slowly opened her eyes. The moment she saw Sylvia, tears began to flow.

"Sylvia, Edwin..."

"He's fine, Rupert is with him next door," Sylvia comforted her, patting her hand.

Naomi let out a whimper and started to cry, her voice hoarse and weak, recounting her ordeal.

"Mrs. Simpson forced us to drink a lot. After Edwin passed out, she had people tie me up and then forced me to eat those rotten bread, saying..."

Naomi paused, seemingly unable to continue.

Sylvia leaned closer. "Mom, what did she say?"

"She said... I was nothing but a

beggar to the Garcia family, and that

you, following my lead, loved to snatch what wasn't yours. She said this was just a lesson, and next time, it might be more than that." ~

A sharp pain pierced Sylvia's heart, her body overwhelmed with sorrow and rage, barely holding back the urge to retaliate.

Mrs. Simpson's words were a blatant threat, hitting Sylvia where it hurt the most.

Sylvia didn't want Naomi to worry further. After reassuring her, she stayed until Naomi fell asleep.

After covering Naomi with a blanket, Sylvia, with a cold expression, dialed Bridget's number. In less than three seconds, Bridget answered, laughter from her and Mrs. Simpson piercing through. Sylvia could even hear Mrs. Simpson vividly describing how they tormented Naomi.

"Dear daughter, you should have seen her crying and begging for mercy, hilarious, just like Mrs. Watson's dog..."

Bridget seemed to intentionally let

Sylvia hear this before speaking softly, "Sylvia, what's up? Here to seek justice for your mom? And then what? What are you going to do?" She snickered, full of scorn.

Sylvia clenched her phone tight, her voice strained, "Bridget, what do you really want?"