Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 310

Fanny’s henchman handed her the bag.

Sylvia rattled off the unlock code without hesitation.

Fanny scrolled through every last thing on Sylvia’s phone and laptop—work emails, class notes, random chitchat. No trace of any incriminating video or photos.

She frowned, clearly still suspicious.

Meanwhile, Sylvia quietly worked a broken tile against the rope binding her wrists underwater, trying to keep the conversation going. “Ms. Lance, if you think I’m hiding something, you’re more than welcome to have your tech guy do a deep search.”

Fanny didn’t hesitate. She waved her hand, and one of her people started a full scan on both devices.

Watching the progress bars crawl across the screens, Sylvia felt a flicker of hope. Her hard drive was packed with four years’ worth of design files and half-finished projects—searching all that would take a while.

Hopefully long enough.

But just as she felt the last threads start to give way, the scan beeped finished.

“Nothing, ma’am.”

Fanny snatched Sylvia’s phone, glaring in disbelief.

Sylvia felt a strange mix of relief and gratitude—she owed Rupert for scrubbing her phone so thoroughly.

Fanny’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “That’s impossible!” She yanked Sylvia to her feet. “Are you playing games with me?”

Sylvia forced herself to stay calm. “Why would I? What, so you can kill me? Ms. Lance, come on. I don’t have a beef with you—why would I try to trick you?”

“You want to seduce Mr. Rupert and frame Bridget! You want to turn us all against each other!”

Sylvia stared at her, deadpan. “So you’d treat Bridget the same way you treat me?”

Fanny hesitated. Her grip loosened.

“You wouldn’t,” Sylvia said quietly. “Because Rupert’s got her back. So what would I get from framing her? But if I die here tonight, who really wins? Ms. Lance, I know I’m not getting out of this alive. When people have nothing left, they tell the truth.”

She clamped a hand over her mouth, curling into herself, trying not to breathe.

Footsteps thundered past, fading. At last, Sylvia let herself take a breath.

Just as she started to think she might have made it out, the locker door was yanked open.

The dim locker room filled with a hulking shadow. He dragged her out and slammed her against the wall.

Pain exploded through her, leaving her limp and shaking.

“Useless. Why do I always have to clean up after you people?” His voice was muffled and cold, echoing from beneath the helmet.

He bent, picking up a rusty length of pipe from the floor, advancing on her.

Sylvia pressed herself back against the wall, her gaze dropping from the helmet to the eagle emblem stitched on his chest.