Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Tristan sat there with a stern look on his face, eyes fixed on Rupert, waiting for him to make a move.

Sylvia glanced down at her palm, red with blood, but she felt nothing. She was already too battered, too broken.

But the final blow was yet to come.

Rupert's gaze swept over Sylvia with the cold detachment of a winter wind, his expression as unreadable as a poker face in Vegas. "It's got nothing to do with me," he said.

Her palm, raw from the scrape of her wool coat, throbbed with a pain she had long grown numb to.

Warren seized the moment, wrapping a stiff arm around Sylvia and grinning. "Thanks, Uncle Rupert, for the opportunity."

Anyone looking from the outside might have thought Warren had deep feelings for Sylvia. But Sylvia knew better; his words were just another move in his game.

Unfortunately, Warren had miscalculated spectacularly. Rupert didn't care about her at all.

Tristan's gaze flickered between Sylvia and Warren, his previous anger at Sylvia's secret meetings with Rupert now replaced by something like resignation.

"You two? Never gonna happen. The Garcia family won't accept just anyone."

Just anyone?

Sylvia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, adding fresh pain to the old. She had no energy left to argue.

The chandelier's glow seemed to pierce through her, as if she might shatter at any moment.

They'd used her for all she was worth, disciplined her as they saw fit. It was time for her to leave the stage.

Sylvia looked down and said to the people gathered around the table, "I understand. I'll go now, won't interrupt your family dinner any longer."

With that, she turned and walked away.

Naomi, eyes glistening with unshed tears, quickly followed. "Sylvia!"

Tristan didn't seem to mind Sylvia's absence, merely waved his hand. "You all go ahead and eat. Rupert, I need a word."

...

In the study, Tristan sat down heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Rupert, what do you propose we do about Sylvia and Warren?"

Rupert sat down leisurely and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling up between them. "Dad, there's no need to keep testing me like this."

Tristan was suspicious. "What do you mean?"noveldrama

"Sylvia,"

repert replied, slowly d rolling it between bet

removing the heirloom ring from his finger

hands, the smoke veiling

eyes.

Tristan narrowed his eyes.

Rupert handed the ring to Tristan. "Unless the day comes when I no longer want this, I might consider it."

Tristan relaxed. What man would ever relinquish power and status for a woman?

"Keep it on; it signifies who you are. As for Warren..."

Before Tristan could finish, Rupert placed a document in front of him.

The word "acquisition" stood out prominently.

"I thought you might let him off the hook again, but he hasn't learned a thing!" Tristan said with a touch of disappointment, though he couldn't hide his satisfaction as he ran a

hand over the acquisition papers.

"Those who don't listen aren't worth keeping around," Rupert said coldly.

Tristan nodded. "Let's go eat."

"I'm not hungry. Got things to do."

Rupert left the room, and moments later, a shadowy figure crept in.

"Grandpa, please, help me."

...

The autumn night was wrapped in a shroud of melancholy.

A light drizzle began to fall, splattering on Sylvia's face.

Soon her hair was dripping, her fingers

Sheet

to walk aimlessly down the street.

25 in stained with blood, but she

After a while, a car pulled up beside her, its headlights flashing insistently.

Sylvia kept walking, unheeding, until she heard the steady footsteps of a man approaching from behind.

"Get in the car."

At those words, a glint of steel flashed.

Sylvia turned, her fruit knife thrusting straight toward the man.