Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

"What evidence?" Miriam blurted out, barely able to contain herself.

Freya wasted no time. She tapped on her phone and pulled up a recording, the timestamp blinking: last Christmas.

Back then, Sylvia and Freya had been as thick as thieves. There were no secrets between them.

But as the screen lit up, Sylvia's face drained of all color. Her clenched fists trembled at her sides, and her mind spun with dread.

In her past life, Freya had always managed to stay close to Bridget. No way she'd done that just by playing the victim. She always had dirt on someone, kept some leverage tucked away.

The recording played.

"Sylvia, you've been staring at those fireworks for ages. What's up? Making a secret wish?"

“No,” Sylvia replied, her voice thick with embarrassment, like she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Liar. Your face is all red. Bet you're thinking about Mr. Rupert again, aren't you?" "Shh! Keep it down! Someone might hear. He's already with someone else."

"It's just us, come on, spill. What were you really thinking about?"

Freya wouldn't let it go, and finally, Sylvia gave in and laughed.

"I wasn't wishing for anything. I just saw that little family ahead of us in line, and my mind wandered, that's all."

"Ohhh, so you want to marry Mr. Rupert and have your own little family? Come on, would you want a son or a daughter?"

Sylvia didn't answer. Honestly, what girl hadn't daydreamed about marrying the guy she liked and living happily ever after?

She let out a soft laugh. "A daughter."

The recording stopped.

Sylvia stood there, biting her pale lip, frozen to the spot.

A daughter.

She'd had one.

When she gave birth to Stella, she'd truly believed she was living her dream.

Turns out, it was just a nightmare.

Now, as she met Rupert's furrowed gaze, her eyes dropped to the floor.

She didn't bother to explain herself. Even if she told Rupert she'd been tipsy that night, he'd never believe her. He'd never once taken her side when it came to Bridget.

Freya's voice rang out, loud and

bet

triumphant. “You all heard it! Sylvia's always wanted to have Rupert's

baby girl. Now that Ms. Simpson is pregnant, she's just jealous!"

A shadow fell over Sylvia. Rupert was towering above her, his eyes cold and

distant, a wall of frost between them.

"Is what she said true?"

Sylvia said nothing. She couldn't deny it she had no idea what else Freya might have on her.

Her silence was as good as an admission.

"Shameless," Tristan snapped.

Miriam lunged at Sylvia, grabbing at her sleeve. "You're evil!"

But honestly, Miriam and Bridget had said far worse behind closed doors. Sylvia barely felt it.

What really hurt was Rupert's icy stare. She felt trapped, powerless to move

under the weight of his gaze and the hands holding her back.

It was Naomi who finally stepped in, her voice trembling as she tried to pry Miriam away.

"Let her go!"

In the struggle, Naomi's foot caught

on something, and she went

crashing to the floor. Her purse

spilled open, scattering the contents everywhere.

A small cardboard box tumbled out, barely held together by the last bit of tape.

A bottle of pills rolled out.

Neither Sylvia nor Naomi had time to see what it was before Miriam snatched it

up.

She read the label. "Mifepristone... For... medical abortion! Oh my god! It's for terminating a pregnancy!"

She tossed the box away like it'd burned her.

It landed right at Tristan's feet.

The butler picked it up and handed it over.noveldrama

Tristan's face twisted in shock and

anger. "You're not even

pregnant-what's this for? You were

planning to hurt Bridget's baby,

weren't you?!"

"I never bought those pills." Sylvia stared at the box, her throat dry, her voice barely above a whisper.

Everything was happening too fast. Her mind was blank, and those words were all she could manage.

Tristan shot a look at the butler, who immediately hurried off.

Rupert glanced at Orson, who gave a small nod, already tapping out a message on his phone.

Then, slowly, Orson walked over to stand in front of Freya.