Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 562

“Then take a good look. See who this really is.”

As soon as Tristan finished speaking, the bodyguard shoved Naomi into the room.

Naomi stumbled and nearly fell against the edge of the bed, but Sylvia rushed over and caught her just in time.

Before they could steady themselves, Kay stormed over and yanked open Naomi’s blouse.

“See? This is our Mrs. Naomi—flaunting another man’s marks! No wonder she’s been hiding. I wouldn’t want to show my face either.”

Naomi tried to fight back, but she was still weak from her injuries—no match for Kay’s aggression.

Thankfully, Sylvia managed to pull the blouse closed and button it up again, shielding Naomi from further humiliation.

Naomi’s face burned with shame, her eyes brimming with tears. “Kay, you’ve gone too far.”

Kay snorted. “Too far? Please. At least I don’t mess around with pretty boys. Can you say the woman in this photo isn’t you?”

She waved a compromising photo in Naomi’s face.

Naomi glanced at it, bit her lip so hard it nearly bled, and said nothing.

“So you admit it.” Kay’s tone was mocking, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “I feel sorry for Mr. Edwin, really. To think he married someone like you.”

“And who do you think is worthy then, Ms. Winslet?” Sylvia shot back, not missing a beat.

“Enough!” Tristan barked, cutting through the tension like a knife. His voice left no room for argument. “That’s your idea of manners? The Garcia family won’t tolerate anyone like you. Take your mother and get out—both of you! Edwin will deal with the divorce himself soon enough.”

The word “divorce” made Naomi break down. Tears streamed down her face, her voice lost. She looked as if she’d been nailed to the wall of shame, all color draining from her.

Sylvia wrapped an arm around her mother, ready to say something, but before she could speak, a cold, deep voice echoed from the doorway.

“Since when does anyone else get to decide who divorces whom?”

Everyone instinctively stepped aside.

Reese entered, her arm linked with Rupert’s.

Rupert headed straight for the couch in the corner, settling into the shadows where his expression was hard to read. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it in the dim glow, smoke curling around his face and making his features even more inscrutable.

“So that’s it? You all barge in here, ready to play judge and jury, and Mr. Rupert isn’t even going to check the facts?”

“My mom is still Mrs. Garcia—still part of this family. Yet you let some outsider throw shade and insult her, while you all pretend to be so tolerant and noble.”

“When did the Garcia family become afraid of the Winslets? Or is there something you’re not telling us?”

Sylvia’s cold gaze swept around the room.

Kay’s face twisted with rage. She jabbed the photo in the air. “Sylvia, you can twist words all you want, but photos don’t lie. Every detail is right here—your mom with her lover. And don’t forget the marks on her.”

Sylvia lifted her chin and turned to the others. “Who do you believe? Kay and her stories—or the marriage that my mom and Mr. Edwin built together?”

No one spoke. Their silence was answer enough—they trusted Kay.

Kay smirked, already savoring her victory. She could stir up trouble in the Garcia family because she had someone protecting her.

Sylvia glanced over at Chris, a bitter smile on her lips. Their eyes met for a second; Chris was now staring hard at Rupert, as if hoping for a miracle.