Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 561

She knew it was Lester, but in her dreams, his face was always a blur.

Eventually, she just gave up, opened her eyes, and stared blankly at the stark white ceiling above her.

She had no idea how much time had passed before Chris came in, quietly pushing open the door.

“You’re awake? Still feeling sick anywhere?”

“I’m okay.” Sylvia propped herself up, shaking her head.

Chris pressed his lips together, looking worried. “Do you remember what happened?”

Sylvia lowered her gaze, replying with dry honesty, “You mean do I remember how I thought I was so clever, but still got played and ended up jumping off that pier? Yeah. I remember every bit.”

Chris’s expression froze. He started to explain, “No, actually, he—”

But Sylvia cut him off. “Dr. Chris, do you remember what I told you at the bar that night? Let me say it again: I’d rather go down with the ship than let him show up as my knight in shining armor after the fact.”

Chris hesitated. “You have no idea what he—”

He never finished. The door slammed open, hard, stopping Chris mid-sentence.

A crowd stormed in without so much as a knock.

Leading the pack was none other than Tristan Garcia.

Behind him stood several Garcia family elders, stony-faced and stiff, and Kay—who looked ready for a fight.

Chris, ever the professional, stepped forward politely, trying to shield Sylvia. “Tristan, Ms. Winslet, my patient needs rest. Please come back later.”

Tristan didn’t even reply. He just gave Kay a sharp look.

Armed with backup, Kay shoved past Chris and strode to Sylvia’s bedside, casting her a withering sideways glance.

“Sylvia, I’m just being a good friend to Tristan here. Your mom—Mrs. Naomi—if this gets out, what will people think of the Garcia family? Of Mr. Edwin? It’s lucky I bought these photos before someone else did.”

Kay’s voice was icy, her sharp eyes glinting with threat.

Sylvia understood instantly—ever since the Hanson family’s troubles, Kay had been itching to use Naomi to keep her in check.

Sylvia brushed the photos off her bed in one quick sweep, meeting Kay’s gaze. “Ms. Winslet, my mom’s up at St. Mary’s Chapel lighting candles. You show up with this sleaze and try to drag her name through the mud—what are you really after?”

“That’s enough!” Tristan finally snapped, his voice cold and commanding. “Sylvia, look at what your mother’s taught you—lying comes so naturally! Are you sure she’s at some chapel?”

“Where else would she be?”

Sylvia stared Tristan down, but she caught Kay’s smirk out of the corner of her eye.

It was obvious they hadn’t come here unprepared.