Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 237

The driver pulled over to the side of the road, staring straight ahead with a steely focus.

Rupert exhaled a puff of foggy breath into the chilly air, his voice calm but firm. "I warned you not to push your luck. You've gotten what you wanted."

"Get out. Your family's driver has been tailing us the whole way."

Rupert's words sent a wave of panic through Bridget. She had told Rupert that her driver had an issue and couldn't make it, which was why he had come to pick her up.

Now, caught in her lie, it felt like a slap across her face, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. But the thought of just getting out of the car didn't sit well with her. She couldn't accept it!

She refused to believe Rupert felt nothing for her. Even if it wasn't love, there had to be some desire, right? What did Sylvia have that she didn't?

With these thoughts swirling, she threw herself at Rupert, tears brimming in her eyes, clutching him desperately. "Mr. Rupert, please, don't do this to me. I love you."

Rupert's expression remained cold, unyielding as ice. He cast a brief glance at Orson in the passenger seat.

Orson nodded, stepping out briskly to open the back door and usher Bridget out of the car.

No matter how much Bridget banged on the window, the car sped away, leaving her behind.

Watching her retreat in the rearview mirror, Orson voiced his concern, "Mr. Rupert, she's still chasing us. If someone takes a picture..."

Rupert, unperturbed, replied, "Give it ten seconds; she'll get in her car and leave." He calmly put his phone away, having verified that Bridget hadn't posted anything on Twitter.

Orson was skeptical at first; Bridget had seemed quite emotional. But sure enough, within seconds, she was scrambling into the Simpson family car, shielding her face as if to hide from prying eyes.

Surprised, Orson mused aloud, "She didn't last ten seconds, maybe not even five."

He hesitated, then asked, "Mr. Rupert, what about Ms. Simpson?"

Rupert lit a cigarette, "When she should have been talking about love, her first words were about money. That's a deal-breaker."

"And... Ms. Lloyd?" Orson ventured cautiously.

"She doesn't bring it up," Rupert replied with a furrowed brow.

Orson stifled a chuckle. Ah, she wants nothing to do with him.

The driver, overhearing the commotion, glanced back. Seeing Bridget's contorted rage-filled face, he nearly lost control, the car swerving slightly.

Bridget jerked with the motion, slamming into the door, the pain only fueling her fury. She lashed out, smacking the driver across the face.

"Can't you even drive properly? Useless fool!"

"Sorry, Miss," the driver murmured, terrified of incurring her wrath, and endured the abuse silently.

As her misfortunes piled up, Bridget's abdominal pain worsened.

The driver, noticing her increasingly pale face, stole a worried glance and gasped.

"Miss, you're... you're bleeding badly."

Bridget lifted a trembling hand to see it covered in blood.

The pain surged through her body, leaving her shaking. "Get me home. Now."