Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 422

“She did all this for the Carmens—she admitted herself that she set me and Uncle Rupert up, and when she succeeded, the Garcias practically belonged to the Carmens. All she ever cared about was her own family.”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

“Can you believe it? It was her who wrecked Rupert and Sylvia,” someone whispered.

“Makes sense now. She was the one who organized that seafood dinner—tampering with the food would’ve been a piece of cake for her. No one even suspected.”

“Seriously, does she think the Carmens are still the same powerhouse they were twenty years ago?”

The whispers broke down what little composure Fiona had left.

She looked frail and sickly, like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsing right onto the floor.

Her fists clenched weakly. “Is it so wrong to fight for my family? Tristan only agreed to marry me because of my family’s influence! When we started going downhill, he didn’t lift a finger to help. All he did was nitpick and criticize. This is all his fault!”

Fiona glared up at Tristan, who sat at the head of the table.

“Enough! Why would I help you? Your brother’s a lost cause—helping you would be a waste.” Tristan’s voice boomed, full of disdain.

“A waste?” Fiona gave a bitter, shaky laugh, tasting blood in her mouth. “Ha… in the end, we’re all just pawns in someone’s game.”

Tristan shot a look at the butler, waving a hand dismissively. “Take her out. I won’t have her spreading nonsense in front of everyone.”

The butler nodded and had the maids help Fiona out of the room.

Warren sat in the corner, his mind spinning in a haze.

When Tristan glanced his way, there was a flicker of contempt in his eyes.

He took the fresh cup of coffee the maid handed him, flicked the lid aside, and said solemnly, “Fiona’s been ill for a while. Clearly, she’s just rambling.”

“Yes, sir,” everyone murmured in agreement, bowing their heads.

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