Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Bridget's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, her eyes brimming with tears she dared not let fall. But she couldn't let her anger show. Instead, she tried to muster a look of hurt and reached out for Rupert.

Rupert, nonchalantly adjusting his cuff, sidestepped her hand with an air of indifference.

"Rupert, I am your fiancée," Bridget said, her eyes welling with tears.

Rupert gave her a fleeting glance, his tone cool. "Ah, fiancée. Not yet a wife."

Bridget's face fell, frozen in place.

He leaned in slightly. "You're still an outsider. Sylvia is legally Ms. Garcia of the Garcia family. Even at her worst, she's not someone to be trifled with by outsiders. We both know what's really going on between us." With that, Rupert shoved a queue number slip into Bridget's hand and walked away.

Bridget stared after him in disbelief, her heart refusing to give up. She attempted to follow Rupert but was blocked by Orson.

"Ms. Simpson, please take a seat."

"Rupert... Rupert..."

Unable to push past Orson, Bridget clenched her teeth and reluctantly sat back down. Looking down, she noticed the queue number slip Rupert had given her was blank! She had to bear the pain while waiting there! Fuming and trembling with frustration, she had no choice but to make another appointment to see the doctor.

...

Sylvia woke up again, reaching out for Naomi but finding her gone.

"Mom?" she called out, confused.

A pair of gentle hands took hers. "Sylvia, I sent Naomi home because she seemed exhausted."

Hearing the voice, Sylvia relaxed.

"Warren, you came? How?"

"You still have to ask? I told you to call me if there was any trouble. And yet, I had to learn about this mess from the internet."

Sylvia blinked in surprise. "The internet?"

Indeed, she had threatened to expose those three, but she hadn't intended for her roommate to actually post it online. She'd wanted to keep things low-key and let the police handle it. She hadn't expected the situation blowing up like this.

Warren offered comfort. "Don't worry, the video didn't reveal your name. I only recognized you by your voice." "And what's happening online now?"

"The trio's misogynistic views have backfired spectacularly. They're being boycotted online, losing contracts, and heading toward ruin. Several women they've wronged. have come forward. They're not just losing their reputation, they're facing légal consequences," Warren explained.

Sylvia nodded, processing the information. Suddenly, she caught a whiff of something delicious.

"What did you bring?"

Warren tapped her nose affectionately. "Got a nose like a hound, huh? The servants of our house made chicken pot pie, your favorite. Brought some for you." "Thanks." Sylvia reached out to take the bowl, but Warren gently pulled it out of her reach. "You're not in any state to fend for yourself. Let me help." Reluctantly, she opened her mouth, accepting the spoonful of steaming chicken pot pie, her cheeks flushing at the intimate gesture.

Outside, a shadow passed by, tossing a thermal container into the trash.

Walking down the corridor, his phone rang.

"Mr. Rupert, there's a lot of chicken pot pie left. Should we send some more over?"

"No need."

...

In the room, Sylvia managed only half the chicken pot pie.

"Warren, it must be late. You should head back."

"It's fine, I..."

Another ring cut him off.

Sylvia couldn't see, but she knew who it was.

"Mrs. Fiona?" She smiled faintly, aware that there are no coincidences in life. Every time Warren and she were alone, Fiona seemed to call. Clearly, Fiona wasn't keen on Warren spending too much time with her.

Fiona had always been kind to her,

and Sylvia understood her

intentions, Being a widow and an

elet

orphan in the Garcia family wasn't easy. Tristan Garcia had been

displeased with Sylvia lately, and any association could only harm Warren's position.