Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 226

Sylvia froze for a moment, but reality quickly snapped her back.

She and Rupert?

Impossible!

There were no kids between them now, no shotgun weddings, nothing at all.

Just hate.

And most importantly... Bridget hadn't run off with a bun in the oven.

The thought hit Sylvia like a plunge into icy winter from a blazing summer, every pore shivering in the cold.

She pursed her lips and said, "Rupert, save that talk for your woman."

"I'll help you bandage up, but make sure you spend some time with her."

See your precious Rufus one last time.

Maybe she had grown cold-hearted.

When she found out Bridget wanted to get rid of the baby, she was only a little surprised, but not at all regretful, and she definitely didn't think to inform Rupert.

If he stopped it, what would be the point?

A devil like that should just wash away down the drain.

He'd picked up eight or nine tenths of Bridget's bad habits, using his health as an excuse to constantly prank Stella.

Once, he'd even aimed a slingshot at Stella's eye. Luckily, she ducked just in time.

Afterwards, he'd laughed it off, saying, "I saw on TV that you could make someone's eyeball explode. I just wanted to see it happen. Why’d you have to dodge? What a bore."

Sylvia had protected the shaken Stella and scolded him a bit.

He then deliberately ran into a tree, fell to the ground crying, drawing a crowd.

"Ms. Lloyd, if you don't like me, Mom and I will leave. Just don't hit me, okay? I've only got one slingshot, and I don't want to share it with Stella. I've already given Dad to her, what more do you want?"

Everyone blamed Sylvia and Stella, and because Stella was too shocked to cry, she ended up looking like the villain.

So, why should such a little devil be born?

After telling Rupert to see his woman, a dark depth flickered in his deep eyes, like a bottomless whirlpool.

Sylvia took a sip of the tea. It was her favorite kind, and Rupert had brewed it just the right strength. It warmed her from the inside out.

She glanced at Rupert, asking cautiously, "Rupert, about Warren..."

Rupert slowly twisted a ruby ring on his finger, eyes icy. "I’d give him the cooperation on a silver platter, but can he handle it?"

Sylvia turned even paler, her hand trembling on the teacup.

"You knew everything! You let me pass on messages! You used me against Warren!"

Rupert said nothing, which was as good as an admission.

Sylvia jumped up, the cup falling from her hand and shattering on the floor, a shard cutting her leg, though she felt no pain.

"You were all using me! Watching me get close, trying to please you, torn up inside—did you find amusement in that? What's the difference between you and Warren?"

In their power games, she was less than an ant.

"No..."

Rupert had barely started when the phone rang, cutting through the tension.