Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

When Sylvia came to, she was already wearing a fresh set of clothes, thanks to Naomi and a nurse. Even the blood in her hair had been carefully washed away. Damp strands clung to her cheeks, giving her a fragile, haunting beauty-but her eyes were empty, vacant, like a marionette with its strings cut.

Chris sat next to her, his head bowed as he gently clipped away the curled dead skin around her fingers. The moment she twitched, he looked up, voice soft and reassuring. "Almost done, promise. Just hang in there, okay?"

Sylvia nodded numbly, then asked in a hollow voice, "How's Bridget?"

Chris hesitated before answering, "She... lost the baby. Had a lot of bleeding, but she's stable now." He sounded strained, as if the words hurt.

Sylvia clenched her jaw so hard it looked painful, her fingers digging into the edge of the hospital bed. She nodded, then shook her head, as if trying to sort through her thoughts.

"I didn't push her," she said quietly.

Chris glanced up, surprise flickering in his eyes at her deadened tone. He hesitated, wanting to say something more, but just then, the door swung open.

Bridget entered, wheeled in by Miriam. She looked pale and exhausted, wrapped in a fleece blanket. But when her eyes met Sylvia's, there was a strange softness -almost forgiveness.

"Sylvia, are you alright?" Bridget said, her voice gentle. "I heard what happened outside the OR. I know it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you."noveldrama

Sylvia had seen Bridget's theatrics before, but the performance was almost laughable this time. She let out a cold, brittle laugh.

“Bridget, why would you blame me? You know as well as I do I didn't push you."

Her eyes, once dull, now flashed with icy anger. The bitter smile on her lips made her whole aura cold and jagged.

Bridget faltered, tears gliding down her cheeks. Ignoring Sylvia's resistance, she suddenly grabbed Sylvia's hand-pinning it right over her bandaged wound.

Sylvia winced, unable to pull away.

"Sylvia, I know you've always had a thing for Mr. Rupert, but he and I are getting married. You have to let this go! I'm not even blaming you for what happened to my baby. What else do you want from me? Please, just let us be happy."

With that, she pressed down harder on Sylvia's injury as she tried to stand up.

Sylvia grimaced in pain, yanking her hand free. Bridget stumbled

sideways, crashing against the end of the bed and accidentally hitting the remote The T flicked on

jumping straight to a live news report.

"In just one month, Mr. Rupert and Bridget will walk down the aisle in what's being called the wedding of the century."

Sylvia stared at the screen, realization dawning. This was what Bridget wanted.

She turned to look. Bridget, back in her wheelchair, gave her a smug little smile- only to quickly swap it for a shimmering, tearful gaze when others looked over. "Sylvia, I'm begging you," she whispered.

By now, a small crowd had gathered at the door. Helena stood at the front, her eyes full of silent accusation.

Sylvia felt like she'd been transported back in time. This was just like before: Bridget's masterful performance, and Sylvia the villain in everyone's eyes.

The whispers started-growing, multiplying, clawing at her from every direction. Her chest tightened, the metallic taste of fear and anger rising in her throat.

She clutched her hospital gown, knuckles white, her body trembling uncontrollably.

"Enough! Bridget, this is too much!" Chris snapped, voice sharp. If he hadn't caught Bridget and Caleb in a compromising situation himself, he might have believed her act too.

Now, he saw right through her.

Bridget blinked, eyes wide and glistening. "Chris, I know Sylvia is... easy to like. But I've lost my baby!"

"You-" Chris started, frowning, realizing Bridget was trying to paint an affair between him and Sylvia.

Every eye in the room turned on Sylvia again, suspicion and judgment swirling.

She was on the verge of breaking when a cold, commanding voice cut through the noise.

"What's going on here?" The crowd parted instantly.

A man stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the room-and lingering on Sylvia, his eyes growing stormy The last golden light of dusk fell across his jet-black suit, making him look even more striking, almost untouchable.