Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 628

Garcia Manor.

Tristan was working his way through a steak dinner, knife and fork clinking steadily, when he caught the sound of someone entering the room. He didn’t bother looking up or pausing—if anything, his posture grew even more imposing.

Ever since that heated argument in the hospital room, Rupert hadn’t joined Tristan for a single meal. So, as far as Tristan was concerned, Rupert was here tonight to call a truce. After all, Tristan had been the head of the Garcia family for decades; Rupert was still a rookie by comparison.

Tristan glanced up at the butler.

The butler himself set a fresh place at the massive oak table for Rupert, making it clear he was offering an olive branch on Tristan’s behalf.

The table was so long you could land a model train on it. Rupert and Tristan sat at opposite ends, as far apart as possible.

Tristan spoke first, with the casual authority of a man used to having the last word. “How’s Reese doing?”

Rupert’s reply was cool and clipped. “He’s fine.”

“I’ve already arranged for a nutritionist to come by. The wedding’s coming up, and he needs to be in top form for it.”

He sounded like a caring father-in-law, but anyone who knew Tristan well could see through him. He was more concerned that Reese might screw up the wedding and embarrass the family than worried about his health. If Tristan genuinely cared, he wouldn’t have left the hospital before Reese woke up.

So why had he bothered coming to the hospital at all? The answer was obvious: Sylvia.

Tristan, mistaking Rupert’s silence for assent, waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s eat. After dinner, you can go back to the hospital and spend some time with Reese. Don’t let certain people mess up your relationship.”

Rupert didn’t bother responding. Instead, right in front of Tristan, he signaled to the maid with a quick flick of two fingers.

Without a word, the maid stepped forward and cleared away the cutlery the butler had just laid out for Rupert, then handed him a cup of tea.

Tristan’s face darkened, his eyes flashing at the maid. She stood her ground, expressionless, right behind Rupert’s chair.

It clicked for Tristan in an instant: this maid wasn’t one of his people—she was Rupert’s.

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