Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

"Just you? A eunuch like you?" Rupert tossed the pistol between them, his face

unreadable. "Out of respect for your old man, I'll give you one shot. Pick it up."

Warren wiped blood from his mouth. "Don't you dare bring up my dad! You killed

him! You think I don't have it in me?"

"Oh? Who told you that? Your mom? That fake, selfish woman?"

"You don't get to talk about my mom!"

Before the words were out, Warren lunged for the gun. In a flash, Rupert yanked

off his scarf, looped it around Warren's neck, and yanked hard. Warren's feet left

the ground and he slammed onto the floor.

Rupert tightened the scarf, inch by inch.

Warren's face turned crimson as he gasped, "I touched her, you know. She's got

my mark-and a few other men's, too... Hahaha... ugh..."

The laughter made Sylvia look up. The sight before her slammed into her mind

like a falling iron lock.

All the buried, ugly memories from her past came rushing back.

The man by her hospital bed-his face finally clear. It was Rupert.

"You've been a mom once, and you didn't even know you were pregnant."

"You're... not happy?" Sylvia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His dark eyes flickered as he squeezed her hand. "Sylvia, I'm tired. Let's go."

He paused, searching her face. "Okay?"

"Okay."

She had loved him then, so much that even when he suddenly changed, she

chose to believe him.

But that same night, a group of men took her away.

Rupert found her in this very house, covered in blood.

When they got out, he dropped to his knees in the snow-silent, unmoving.

That day, he killed a man-one of those five-using the scarf his mother had left

him.

No wonder Sylvia always thought the scarf looked familiar. She never saw it again

after that day.

Of course.

Afterward, Sylvia broke down. She spent months in therapy.

She hurt Rupert, over and over, without even realizing it.

One day, she tried to end her life.

Rupert saved her. When she woke up, she remembered nothing of what had

happened.

The therapist said it was for the best. No one was to ever remind her of those

people or that night.

That string of numbers? It was the password to her memories.

She drifted back into that cold, distant routine with Rupert. Later, when she heard

Warren was in trouble, she even blamed Rupert and begged him to let Warren go.

He looked at her with that

complicated, pained gaze, but

eventually, he did. He sent Warren

and his mother far, far away. They'd

never set foot in this country again.

The day Warren left, the sky was clear blue. He gave Sylvia a gentle smile.noveldrama

Now, thinking back on it all-

Sylvia finally realized how terribly wrong she'd been.

She gripped her hair, flashes of memory racing through her mind.

Tristan stood before Rupert.

"Bridget's back, and she's got your

kid. If you don't claim him, that video

of Sylvia goes public. The Garcia

family will never accept a filthy

woman like her or her bastard

daughter."

"...Fine."

From that day on, Rupert's eyes went cold.

Their relationship shattered completely.

But in so many silent, lonely nights, he would just stand there, watching her and

her little girl from the shadows.

Sylvia struggled to breathe, tears streaming down her face.

She looked at Warren, nearly unconscious, and wiped her face hard. She jumped

out of bed, threw herself against Rupert, knocking him into the dresser.

Rupert glared at her, dark and dangerous.

Warren, gasping on the floor, ripped off the scarf and laughed hoarsely.

"Uncle Rupert, see that? She still chose me. She couldn't let me die... ah!"

Sylvia brought her stiletto heel down hard between his legs. Then she ground it in,

twice for good measure.

"Why should Uncle Rupert have to

carry the weight for a loser like you?

You don't get to die. You get to

live and suffer. Death's too easy for

you, you damn coward."

At the door, Orson and the security team instinctively crossed their legs, wincing

as they glanced at Rupert.

That had to hurt.