Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

"Sylvia, there's this weekend farmers' market just around the corner from the hotel. You've got to try the local pasta," Eloise suggested cheerfully over breakfast.

At that, Sylvia completely lost her appetite.

So Rupert snuck out in the middle of the night just to hunt down treats for Bridget?

He'd insisted on staying in her room-what, was he worried she'd pass her cold to delicate little Bridget instead?

Honestly, Sylvia found it almost funny. That was exactly the kind of thing Rupert would've done for Bridget in her last life, too.

She set down her half-eaten toast, took a long swig of milk, and forced a smile. "Ms. Eloise, I'm full. I'll head up and get ready."

"Alright. I'll be in my room too-the stylist's coming soon," Eloise replied, already gathering her things. She was just as eager to avoid Bridget's endless small talk.

Both women got up to leave. Bridget lingered, nursing her coffee, a sly little smile on her lips.

As Sylvia walked toward the restaurant entrance, Rupert walked in with two middle-aged men in tow.

Their eyes met for half a second-Sylvia turned on her heel and strode away without a word, not even a glance back.

Right behind her, Bridget's syrupy voice floated through the air, "Rupert, you're here! I'm not that hungry, but I'd love to keep you company for breakfast."

"Sure," Rupert replied, putting an arm around Bridget as the group disappeared down the hall.

...

Back in her room, Sylvia blinked in surprise-the heating had been fixed, and the whole suite was bathed in cozy warmth.

She glanced at her neatly made bed, the memory of last night feeling strangely distant, almost unreal.

No, she reminded herself, it was real. All of it.

Shaking her head, she pulled out her folder and started reviewing her notes.

After last night's dinner, Mark had been arrested-and his mugshot was already splashed across the morning news. He'd been dropped by the brand, and there'd probably be lawsuits waiting for him back home.

As for the others, Sylvia hadn't really gotten to know them yet. She'd see what they were made of at today's exhibition.

She worked for a while, then checked the time. It was almost time to get ready.

When she unzipped the garment bag, Sylvia couldn't help but gasp. This was just something Eloise had borrowed for her? It was stunning.

A blue-violet, floor-length gown, covered in tiny crystals that shimmered like starlight. The straps were a delicate string of beads connecting to the jeweled bodice,

flowing seamlessly into the

sparkling skirt.

Every step made the crystal fringe sway and catch the light in a thousand different ways.

She slipped into the dress, loosely swept her hair into a low bun with a few soft curls framing her face, and decided that was good enough.

Just then, Eloise texted her: Come downstairs.

Grabbing her purse, Sylvia headed out.

She hadn't felt nervous in the elevator, but the moment she stepped into the hotel lobby, it was as if someone had hit the pause button on the whole place. Every head turned.

Even without makeup, Sylvia had a kind of bold, classic beauty. But dressed up- well, she moved with a grace and confidence that turned every head. Even Bridget had to admit, Sylvia had that certain something.

Sylvia noticed the stares, picked up her pace, and made her way to Eloise and Bridget.

"Ms. Eloise, sorry to keep you waiting."

"Not at all, the driver just pulled up," Eloise said with a smile, looking as sharp as ever in her tailored suit. "Shall we?"

Sylvia nodded and fell in step behind her.

From the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of jealousy in Bridget's expression. Bridget clenched her teeth, forcing her smile to stay in place.

At the lounge across the lobby, Uncle Steven watched Sylvia walk away, a knowing look in his eye.

"With a daughter like that, it's monet

wonder her mother had your Uncle Edwin wrapped around her finger. Who could resist that kind of charm, right, Rupert?" noveldrama

"Don't be ridiculous," Uncle Charles replied, setting down his cup of coffee with mock sternness. But his gaze lingered on Rupert. "Rupert has Bridget Don't start making jokes about every woman that walks by Sylvia's not part of the Garcia family."

Rupert stared down into his cup, hiding the flicker of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. His voice was cool and even. "Let's not waste time talking about people who don't matter."