Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 93

She just couldn't accept it!

Freya made a move to get up, but midway through, her body wobbled unsteadily, collapsing toward Rupert.

Rupert, encircling Sylvia, stepped back. Freya ended up sprawled at their feet, a complete mess.

Most people wouldn't dare cause more trouble at this point. But Freya wasn't like most people. She shakily reached out, clutching Rupert's pant leg.

Her torso was slightly lifted, giving a clear view of her soaked shirt and the outline beneath. She didn't bother to cover up, looking up pitifully at Rupert. “Mr. Garcia, I came back because I was worried about Sylvia's safety. I saw Sylvia standing by the pond, and I didn’t want to startle her, so I approached quietly. But just as I was about to grab her, I lost my balance and fell into the pond.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she continued, “Mr. Garcia, you must be annoyed with me, right? It's my fault. I almost scared Sylvia.”

Freya looked timidly at Rupert, completely ignoring Sylvia between them.

Sylvia struggled to break free from Rupert's embrace, but he held her wrists firmly from behind, even leisurely caressing them a few times. He looked down, not at Freya's appealing state, but at Sylvia, responding, “If you know it’s wrong, what’s the use of telling me?”

Sylvia blinked in confusion.

Freya stiffened, her delicate eyes incredulously fixed on Rupert.

A few seconds later, she reluctantly lowered her head, mumbling an apology to Sylvia. “Sorry, Sylvia. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It's okay.”

Sylvia knew this wasn't the moment to confront Freya; it was essential to maintain a facade of friendship. Especially since Freya had also joined Eloise's studio, keeping an enemy in plain sight was safer.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sylvia saw a figure rushing over, and a plan began to form in her mind.

Sylvia forcefully pulled her hands back from Rupert. Flailing her arms, she grabbed Freya's hand, her concern evident. “Freya, your hands are freezing. The water must be so cold in late autumn. Uncle, could you lend her your jacket? Don’t let her catch a cold.”

“Are you sure?” Rupert's tone was slow but oppressive.