Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)
Chapter 43

Back to College.

Sylvia pushed open her dorm room door, finding it empty as usual. Her roommates said they were out for job interviews.

She opened her locker, her gaze lingering on its contents before squinting slightly. Just as she was about to grab something, a voice echoed behind her. "Sylvia."

Sylvia dropped her hand and turned around, only to have Freya rush up to her, slapping her own face repeatedly.

"Sylvia, I'm so sorry! It's all my fault. I was scared of being broke, and when Vincent said it was just using your account to post a few things, I believed him. You know how my mom always complains about college being a waste of money. That's why I fell for it. Please, have some pity."

Freya continued slapping herself while guilt-tripping Sylvia. Sylvia didn't respond, pretending to be stunned, watching as Freya slapped herself a few times. Fuming, Freya dared not stop; until her face turned red, Sylvia finally intervened.

"Stop it, it's too late for apologies now." Sylvia lowered her gaze to her injured hand.

Freya's eyes brightened, "Sylvia, what happened? Can't you compete because of your hand?"

Sylvia gave her a glance and sighed dramatically, "The doctor said my hand might never regain its full flexibility. Competing seems unlikely now."

Saying so, she let her hand fall weakly. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Freya's hidden smirk.

The next second, Freya's expression shifted to concern, "Sylvia, don't overthink it."

"Okay." Sylvia forced a smile, and then said, "I'm a bit tired, going to rest now."

Freya nodded and left.

Watching her leave, Sylvia leaned back with a slight smile. Freya would surely spill the beans to Bridget. Just as Sylvia wanted.

With the competition looming, she couldn't afford any mistakes. A little misinformation could be the deadliest blow to Bridget.

...

The Weekend.

Sylvia returned to the Garcia Manor.

As she walked in, two figures descended from a car nearby.

Mrs. Fiona Garcia and her son, Warren Garcia, the eldest grandson of the Garcia family.

Fiona was dressed in simple elegance, her only adornment a vintage emerald ring. Rumors had it that the ring was a love token from Patrick Garcia, the eldest son of the Garcia family, never removed since its placement. A pity he was no longer around. Sylvia stepped up, "Mrs. Fiona Garcia."

Fiona smiled, "Always so formal, it'd feel distant."

"It's necessary."

After that, Warren approached Sylvia, "Has your hand got any better, Sylvia?"

Sylvia looked up to see Warren's refined features, dressed impeccably in a light grey suit, a picture of correctitude. He was one of the few in the Garcia family who treated her kindly.

In her past life, Warren had once asked her gravely, "Sylvia, will you come with me?"

Unfortunately, she was too entangled to drag him down with her. After he and his mother disappeared, trapped with Rupert, Sylvia only heard some dreadful rumors, losing all contact. Seeing his face again filled Sylvia with emotions, and in the end she let out an earnest smile.

"Warren, I'm alright."

Perhaps due to the weight of her feelings, this address felt particularly heartfelt.

Warren smiled warmly, "Glad to hear it."

Sylvia felt a bit shy, lowering her gaze. However, the atmosphere turned stiff as Warren and Fiona's expressions grew serious.

Fiona nodded slightly, "Rupert."

Warren respectfully said, "Uncle."

Sylvia stood still until a cold gaze landed on her back, making her turn reluctantly, "Uncle."

Rupert didn't reply, but the person near him couldn't contain her excitement. She swept a smug glance at Sylvia's injured hand before greeting everyone with her hands clung to Rupert's arm intimately. "Mrs. Fiona Garcia, Mr. Warren Garcia."

They acknowledged her with polite nods, not keen on conversation.

Warren took Sylvia's hand, stepping aside, "After you, Uncle."

Rupert glanced at their hands, his expression unreadable as he entered.

Bridget, noticing his gaze, said purposefully, "Sylvia and Warren seem quite close."

Rupert's cold gaze silenced her promptly.

Entering the dining room, Naomi shared a brief chat with others, and then pulled Sylvia aside.

"Do you know Julian's got his comeuppance?"

"How so?"

"After the probation, he found some woman and released his sexual desire with her the entire night, got filmed by someone. In the end, turns out that woman has AIDS, and Julian has missed the optimal time to take anti-retroviral drugs."

Sylvia was stunned, convinced that it was indeed a fitting retribution. Searching pleasure from women led to his death on account of them. It was a torment even severer than just sending him in jail or taking his life.

But, was this really merely a coincidence?

Before she could ponder it over, Tristan arrived. This time he didn't give her a hard time, everything seemingly harmonious.

All of sudden, one of the Garcias relatives gazed at Bridget, asking, "Bridget, heard you're going to represent the school for a competition. How's your preparation going?"

"The works are almost done," Bridget replied confidently.

"No wonder you're picked by Rupert, a real special talent, indeed, not anyone could easily compete," as she spoke, she cast a light glance at Sylvia.

They'd always despised Sylvia, yet Sylvia didn't care less.

Unexpectedly, dabbing at his mouth, Warren said with a smile, "People who are able to take part in the competition should all be talented, like Sylvia. She's got a knack for designing since little. I remember during college many people were eager to have the copyright of her design words. Quite promising."

The expression of Bridget and the one who licked her boots turned sour at his words, and yet dared not to retort.

Sylvia cast a grateful look at Warren, the two exchanging a smile. As she looked away, a brief moment of cold stares from aside made her shudder. She knew where they were from, but didn't want to care.

After dinner, Sylvia stood up and escaped the scene with an excuse of making some coffee. However, as she headed to the pantry for some coffee beans, the door behind her gently swung shut.