Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 43

Back to College.

Sylvia pushed open her dorm room door, finding it empty as usual. Her roommates said they were out for job interviews.

She opened her locker, her gaze lingering on its contents before squinting slightly. Just as she was about to grab something, a voice echoed behind her.

“Sylvia.”

Sylvia dropped her hand and turned around, only to have Freya rush up to her, slapping her own face repeatedly.

“Sylvia, I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault. I was scared of being broke, and when Vincent said it was just using your account to post a few things, I believed him.

You know how my mom always complains about college being a waste of money. That’s why I fell for it. Please, have some pity.”

Freya continued slapping herself while guilt-tripping Sylvia. Sylvia didn’t respond, pretending to be stunned, watching as Freya slapped herself a few times.

Fuming, Freya dared not stop; until her face turned red, Sylvia finally intervened.

“Stop it, it’s too late for apologies now.” Sylvia lowered her gaze to her injured hand.

Freya’s eyes brightened, “Sylvia, what happened? Can’t you compete because of your hand?”

Sylvia gave her a glance and sighed dramatically, “The doctor said my hand might never regain its full flexibility. Competing seems unlikely now.”

Saying so, she let her hand fall weakly. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Freya’s hidden smirk.

The next second, Freya’s expression shifted to concern, “Sylvia, don’t overthink it.”

“Okay.” Sylvia forced a smile, and then said, “I’m a bit tired, going to rest now.”

Freya nodded and left.

Watching her leave, Sylvia leaned back with a slight smile. Freya would surely spill the beans to Bridget. Just as Sylvia wanted.

With the competition looming, she couldn’t afford any mistakes. A little misinformation could be the deadliest blow to Bridget.

…

The Weekend.

Sylvia returned to the Garcia Manor.

As she walked in, two figures descended from a car nearby.

Mrs. Fiona Garcia and her son, Warren Garcia, the eldest grandson of the Garcia family.

Fiona was dressed in simple elegance, her only adornment a vintage emerald ring. Rumors had it that the ring was a love token from Patrick Garcia, the eldest son of the Garcia family, never removed since its placement. A pity he was no longer around.

Sylvia stepped up, “Mrs. Fiona Garcia.”

Fiona smiled, “Always so formal, it’d feel distant.”

“It’s necessary.”

After that, Warren approached Sylvia, “Has your hand got any better, Sylvia?”

Sylvia looked up to see Warren’s refined features, dressed impeccably in a light grey suit, a picture of correctitude. He was one of the few in the Garcia family who treated her kindly.

In her past life, Warren had once asked her gravely, “Sylvia, will you come with me?”