Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 423

“You should be grateful—hate is the one thing my mother never taught us! I let myself be your puppet, just so Rupert could have a decent childhood.”

“I did everything you asked—married for the family, kept up appearances. But the day Mom died, you were off fooling around with a secretary young enough to be your daughter. That was the day Edwin and I decided to give everything back to Rupert.”

His voice echoed through the old family chapel, anger bouncing off the marble and wood. Even the air in the atrium seemed charged, as if the whole world had gone darker.

Sylvia suddenly understood—this was never a secret. It was just that, for the family’s image, no one could say a word.

She glanced at Rupert. He kept his eyes down, the candlelight flickering on the table, casting restless shadows under his eyes.

Sylvia had never known any of this in her previous life.

He must’ve been so young when his mom died. How was he supposed to carry all this?

Biting her lip, she slid over to Rupert’s side while no one was looking, just to check if he was okay. She reached out, gently brushing his hand.

To her surprise, he gripped her hand back.

Sylvia froze, instinctively wanting to pull away. But when she saw he didn’t even look up, she realized he was holding on for dear life.

So she stayed, standing quietly beside him.

After a moment, she whispered awkwardly, “None of this is your fault.”

Rupert still didn’t look up, but she felt his hand tremble around hers.

Everyone else was focused on Patrick, so their little moment went unnoticed.

Patrick waved his daughter over with a soft, fatherly smile. “Go say hi to Grandma, sweetheart. Tell her your name.”

The little girl nodded, stepping up to the altar. She called out, loud and clear, “Grandma, I’m Yasmin Garcia.”

That was Rupert’s mother’s name.

Rupert finally looked up, watching the girl for a long, silent moment.

Patrick took his wife and daughter’s hands, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve said what needed to be said. I hope you all let us be. As far as I’m concerned, Patrick Garcia doesn’t exist anymore.”

With that, the three of them headed out.

Tristan, face red with rage, slammed his fist on the table. “You stop right there!”

But no one moved to stop Patrick. Not a soul tried.

Tristan clutched his chest, collapsing in a fit of anger.

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