Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 350

Hospital Room

When Sylvia woke up, Rupert was already gone. She took a moment to gather her strength, then got out of bed and poured herself a glass of water. Just as she took a sip, she noticed a shadow flickering outside the door.

“Who’s there?” she called out.

The door creaked open a sliver, and Jayson’s head peeked through.

“Quit messing around,” his mom said, pulling Jayson out of the way as she stepped into the room. “Miss, I really have to thank you for what you did. I brought you something to eat—I hope you don’t mind. It’s nothing fancy.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you so much! I’m starving,” Sylvia replied, a little embarrassed but grateful.

Jayson’s mom opened up a thermos and poured out a bowl of creamy oatmeal, then handed over a couple of homemade biscuits.

She carefully packed the rest of the food away, making sure not to waste a crumb.

Sylvia eyed the food, a little suspicious. “Mrs. Carter, did you…?”

“Jayson’s dad is still in the ICU. We’re just trying to make things stretch, you know?” Mrs. Carter’s eyes turned red and watery.

Sylvia thought for a moment, then asked gently, “Jayson getting thrown in the river… it had something to do with his dad, didn’t it?”

Mrs. Carter looked like she’d been punched in the stomach. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.

“They’re monsters, all of them! Messed everything up, and now they want us to sign those papers—”

“Who? Who are you talking about?”

Mrs. Carter hesitated, biting her lip. “It’s just… never mind. Saying it won’t change anything. Miss, really, thank you. We should get going.”

She took Jayson’s hand and started to leave. But just as they reached the door, Jayson turned and pressed his little woven basket into Sylvia’s hands.

“For you,” he said solemnly. “To protect you.”

Sylvia looked at the tiny basket, barely bigger than her palm, and smiled. “Thank you, Jayson.”

“Refuse, and you’ll regret it. Maybe you don’t care what happens to your kid.”

“You—” Mrs. Carter’s face went pale, her whole body trembling.

Sylvia frowned and stepped forward, but before she could reach them, a hand clamped over her mouth and nose from behind, dragging her toward the stairwell.

The corridor was empty. No one to call for help.

“Jesus!” the man yelped, recoiling and letting her go.

Sylvia didn’t look back. She bolted down the stairs. The ICU ward was only on the second floor—if she could make it to the lobby, she had a good shot at getting help.

She thought she was in the clear—until, out of nowhere, another figure leapt out from the stairwell, grabbed her arm, and jabbed her with a needle.