Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 327

Ever since she’d gotten tangled up in the messy triangle between Fanny, Bridget, and Caleb, everything had unfolded exactly as Rupert had planned.

It was nothing more than a strategic move—just another step in his quest for real control over the mining company.

He watched her seek out Fanny, let Fanny torment her, and then sat back to reap the rewards like a patient fisherman waiting for the perfect catch.

Right now, Sylvia felt like her heart was being stabbed by a thousand needles. Her throat was tight, as if something was lodged there, squeezing the air out of her lungs until she could barely breathe.

After Orson left, Sylvia quietly returned to her seat.

She’d barely sat down when the flight attendant appeared with a tray of food. The sight of it made her stomach turn.

“I’m not hungry,” she said, voice flat. “Just bring me a glass of wine.”

The flight attendant hesitated, glancing at Rupert, who sat beside her.

Rupert looked up, his eyes cool and unreadable. “Drinking on an empty stomach?”

Sylvia didn’t look at him. She kept her gaze glued to the clouds outside the window. “It won’t kill me.”

Rupert waved the attendant off, making it clear she wasn’t to bring the wine.

He was unusually patient, nodding toward the food on her tray. “Eat something first. You need to take your meds soon.”

The pneumonia had been serious—she’d only just gotten out of the hospital, and Dr. Chris had prescribed a little something to help her recover. The catch: she had to take it with food.

She was surprised Rupert even remembered.

Sylvia pressed her lips together, trying to push down the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.

Whatever Rupert’s reasons—guilt, responsibility, or something else—he was still just using her. That much was clear.

She shot a cold glance at the paperwork in his hand. “You’re a busy man, Uncle Rupert. No need to trouble yourself with my little problems.”

Rupert frowned, stood up, and came over to her seat. He grasped her chin, tipping her face up, a little too firmly.

“You going to eat by yourself,” he said, voice low, “or do you need me to help?”

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