Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)
Chapter 93

She just couldn't accept it!

Freya made a move to get up, but midway through, her body wobbled unsteadily, collapsing toward Rupert.

Rupert, encircling Sylvia, stepped back. Freya ended up sprawled at their feet, a complete mess.

Most people wouldn't dare cause more trouble at this point. But Freya wasn't like most people. She shakily reached out, clutching Rupert's pant leg.

Her torso was slightly lifted, giving a clear view of her soaked shirt and the outline beneath. She didn't bother to cover up, looking up pitifully at Rupert. "Mr. Garcia, I came back because I was worried about Sylvia's safety. I saw Sylvia standing by the pond, and I didn't want to startle her, so I approached quietly. But just as I was about to grab her, I lost my balance and fell into the pond."

Her eyes filled with tears as she continued, "Mr. Garcia, you must be annoyed with me, right? It's my fault. I almost scared Sylvia."

Freya looked timidly at Rupert, completely ignoring Sylvia between them.

Sylvia struggled to break free from Rupert's embrace, but he held her wrists firmly from behind, even leisurely caressing them a few times. He looked down, not at Freya's appealing state, but at Sylvia, responding, "If you know it's wrong, what's the use of telling me?" Sylvia blinked in confusion.

Freya stiffened, her delicate eyes incredulously fixed on Rupert.

A few seconds later, she reluctantly lowered her head, mumbling an apology to Sylvia. "Sorry, Sylvia. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay."

Sylvia knew this wasn't the moment to confront Freya; it was essential to maintain a facade of friendship. Especially since Freya had also joined Eloise's studio, keeping an enemy in plain sight was safer.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sylvia saw a figure rushing over, and a plan began to form in her mind.

Sylvia forcefully pulled her hands back from Rupert. Flailing her arms, she grabbed Freya's hand, her concern evident. "Freya, your hands are freezing. The water must be so cold in late autumn. Uncle, could you lend her your jacket? Don't let her catch a cold." "Are you sure?" Rupert's tone was slow but oppressive.

Sylvia bravely nodded. "Yes."

Without a word, Rupert took off his jacket and draped it over Freya.

Freya was so thrilled she almost laughed out loud, but after a moment's effort to compose herself, she spoke in a soft, coquettish voice. "Thank you, Mr. Garcia."

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Just then, a voice cut in.

"Freya, you really should thank Rupert. His clothes are all bespoke, not something just anyone can get their hands on."

Bridget, wearing an exaggerated pair

of sunglasses that covered most of her face, walked over. It seemed the boiling water from yesterday had done quite a number on her. Even so, through the glasses, it was clear she wanted to tear Freya apart. Especially when she noticed Freya's drenched clothes revealing more than intended.

Freya, that bold girl.

Bridget glared, making Freya shrink back, but she still pulled the jacket around her as if to flaunt it.

Bridget was seething with anger. Maintaining a gentle facade, she snuggled next to Rupert, subtly glancing at Sylvia. "Sylvia, why are you here? You should be resting."

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The implication was clear: leave.

Sylvia took the hint. "Ms. Simpson is right. Could you call a nurse to take me back to rest? I won't disturb you anymore."

Soon, a nurse arrived. Sylvia quickly made herself scarce, following the nurse.

Once out of their sight, she dismissed the nurse and hid behind a tree to watch. Expecting a spectacle, she was surprised when Rupert also left.

With no one else around, Bridget spared no mercy for Freya, delivering a slap with full force.

Sylvia instinctively covered her own face; it must have hurt.

Suddenly, a cold voice interrupted from behind.

"Enjoying the show?"