Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 322

Mental illness?

The moment Sylvia heard those two words, she decided to keep her eyes shut and pretend she was still asleep.

Was Chris actually spooked by her little act from before? Had she really freaked him out that much?

She knew herself better than anyone—she’d never seen a therapist in her life. If she’d ever gotten therapy, she would definitely remember.

So what else could Chris possibly have to say?

Across the quiet hospital room, Rupert sat brooding in the shadows, his expression as dark as a thundercloud.

“She hasn’t—if she had, her mother would never have kept it from me or from Edwin. Not with her personality,” he said, voice low.

Chris scratched his chin, brow furrowed in thought. “That’s what’s weird. After that thing with Julian Zook, she had a pretty strong psychological reaction. Then, when she went temporarily blind from the shock, it all just seemed… off. I talked it over with a friend of mine who’s an expert. He was convinced someone with those symptoms must’ve had treatment before. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to handle stress like that—even subconsciously.”

“What are you getting at?” Rupert’s stony face finally cracked.

“I’m saying… maybe Julian wasn’t the real trigger. Maybe he just accidentally hit a nerve that was already there. That’s why she reacted so intensely.”

“No way,” Rupert shot back instantly.

Of course not. Sylvia knew her own mind. She’d never had any kind of mental illness. The only time she’d ever had a breakdown was after Stella’s death—and that didn’t involve any therapy, just a whole lot of pain.

Chris looked thoughtful, unconvinced. “My friend’s a pro—he wouldn’t mess this up. Either way, just… don’t let her get too worked up again.”

Rupert simply nodded.

“I’ll head out, then,” Chris said, and his footsteps faded down the hall.

As the door closed, Sylvia could feel Rupert’s gaze settle right on her. It was heavy and unreadable, making her heart pound uncomfortably. But she’d faked sleep before; she was pretty sure he wouldn’t catch on this time.

Just as she started to relax, she felt the warmth of his hand on her cheek, his fingers sliding gently into her hair. Soft strands brushed against her face, making her want to squirm. No matter how still she lay, she couldn’t escape his touch.

“Achoo!” Sylvia finally sneezed, blowing her cover spectacularly.

“So, you have plenty to say to him? You even sought him out?”

Startled, she tried to scoot away, but he caught her by the waist and pulled her closer, holding her right in front of him.

“Why’d you stop talking?” Rupert narrowed his eyes.

With every word, Rupert’s face grew darker, his stare more intense.

“Go on,” he prompted, voice dangerously quiet.