Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)
Chapter 35

Rupert didn't reply, his gaze sliding past Sylvia, his demeanor chilling like the frost of midwinter, an unspoken barrier against intrusion.

Sylvia couldn't help but sneer internally. Classic Rupert.

Just then, a commanding voice cut through the air from behind her, "Sylvia, what are you doing just standing there? Everyone is waiting for you."

It was Tristan.

Turning around, Sylvia noticed Tristan was flanked by Naomi and Edwin, two individuals who usually wouldn't find themselves at the center of attention, except apparently in circumstances such as these. Clearly, Tristan was worried Sylvia might back out of going on stage.

"Sylvia..."

Face grim, Edwin attempted to shield Sylvia.

Sylvia gave him a quick shake of the head, "Edwin, just stay with my mom, okay?"

Under Tristan's warning gaze, Sylvia took the stage. Even Julian, bandages and all, had made it, looking smug among the crowd.

The press was buzzing with anticipation, some eager to pin the blame on Sylvia even before she could speak.

"Ms. Lloyd, we heard Ms. Simpson is also representing your school in the jewelry design contest. Are you jealous of Ms. Simpson, hence the vicious attack?"

The camera panned to Bridget, who dabbed at her eyes, biting her lips in grievance.

Sylvia fixed the reporter with a stare and replied, "I'll answer you in a moment."

The reporter, unsatisfied, pressed on aggressively, "Are you scared? According to sources from your school, you secured your contest spot by maliciously slandering Ms. Simpson online. It was only the school's reluctance to waste Ms. Simpson's talent that got her an additional spot. Did you then incite others to harm her?"

The argument seemed well-prepared.

Sylvia challenged back, "Who's your source? Care to confront me?"

The reporter choked, "We can't reveal our sources."

"So you have no proof. Could I accuse you of defamation then?"

The reporter, cornered and humiliated, glared at Sylvia, silent threats veiling his gaze.

Then, a cough sounded. Tristan's glance silenced the whispers around, and he stated authoritatively, "Speak."

As the camera refocused on Sylvia, she calmly unfolded her speech, eyes scanning the first line. The opening line read, "I confess."

"I..." She looked up, her gaze sweeping over the crowd, and began slowly, "I do not confess."

"Sylvia!" Tristan's voice, laden with anger, bore into her.

Rupert stood, his expression darkening, his eyes intimidating, his voice cold and mocking.

"Sylvia, there's no point in this."

"Isn't there?"

Sylvia lifted her speech, eyes locked with Rupert's, tore the paper to shreds, and threw them to the air, the pieces fluttering between her and Rupert like a chasm that could never be bridged. She turned to face the inquisitive reporter.

"Vincent, does feasting on the misery of others bring you joy?"

"What...What do you mean?" Vincent faltered, his demeanor suddenly uneasy.

"Wasn't it all your doing online? What's with the act now?"

"You're slandering me! What proof do you have? It seems you aren't interested in a genuine apology!" Vincent retorted loudly.

"Who said there's no proof?"

With those words, a righteously charming figure strode in. The female officer arrived with her team.

The officer joined Sylvia's side, giving her colleague a nod. After a couple of clicks at a nearby control panel, the screen came alive with chat logs.

"These are the conversations leaked online from Sylvia's account. We traced the IP address back to a reporter, Alden, which means Alden here was the original source of the slander against Bridget online."