Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 646

Reese looked up at Rupert, searching his face for any hint of emotion, but she couldn’t read him at all.

She thought he was just angry, so she reached out, trying to take his hand. He pulled away.

Frozen where she stood, she still managed to clutch at his shirt sleeve.

“Mr. Rupert, my aunt—she’s always been like a second mom to me. I can’t just stand by and watch something happen to her.”

“So, you knew what she did?” Rupert shot back, his voice cold.

“I… she told me earlier that she told Tristan about Sylvia’s plans to study abroad.”

Reese’s voice grew smaller and smaller, her head lowering. She knew deep down her aunt had done more than just that.

Rupert’s eyes narrowed, his tone icy. “And how did she know Sylvia was leaving the country?”

“…”

Reese bit her lip so hard she thought it might bleed, her face drained of all color.

Rupert understood. He pried her hand off his sleeve and stood up.

“Leave,” he said flatly, his words like a slammed door.

Reese stared at him in disbelief, then collapsed to the floor.

As Rupert turned to go, she grabbed desperately at the leg of his pants.

“Mr. Rupert, please, for the sake of what I’ve done for you—remember, I lost a leg for you—just let my aunt go. Please.”

Rupert bent down, looking at her with a stony face. “Reese, favors run out.”

She looked up at him, her voice breaking. “I know. But can you not treat me like this? We’re getting married soon.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression dark. “Yeah.”

It was the answer she wanted, but her tears fell anyway.

She reached out for him again, but Orson stepped in, gently stopping her.

“Ms. Sanford, the driver’s waiting downstairs. Let me walk you out,” Orson said, voice firm but not unkind.

Reese pressed her lips together and let Orson lead her away.

All the while, Rupert stood with his back to her, unmoving.

When Orson returned, Rupert was already pouring himself a drink.

“Want one?” Rupert asked, pouring Orson half a glass without waiting for an answer.

Orson saw the look on Rupert’s face and just nodded, taking the glass.

Rupert tossed back his whiskey, swallowing hard, as if every drop was bitter, not burning.

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