Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 582

Sylvia’s smile faded in an instant as she looked at the people in front of her, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

Reese stood by the car, arm in arm with Rupert, and called out, “Sylvia, I haven’t seen you this happy in ages.”

“Isn’t that right, Mr. Rupert?” She tugged playfully at Rupert’s sleeve.

Rupert simply shot a cool glance at Sylvia and Lester, not bothering to say a word.

Reese’s smile faltered, pressing her lips together in discomfort.

The tension in the air was thick enough to slice with a butter knife.

Trying to break the silence, Sylvia cleared her throat and forced a new topic. “So, what brings you two here this morning?”

Reese quickly explained, “I saw the news about the stalker in your neighborhood and got worried. I asked Mr. Rupert to come with me to check in on you. We ran into Zion downstairs, who said you and Lester had already left early.”

For a moment, only the wind filled the silence.

“Reese!” Lester cut in, his voice sharp as he frowned, the mood chilling even further.

Reese’s face went pale as she clutched her purse tightly.

It was clear to everyone what Reese was really here to find out—whether Sylvia and Lester had spent the night together.

Sylvia felt exposed, as if someone had thrown open every curtain in her life. The grocery bag in her hand, with just three tomatoes inside, suddenly felt as heavy as a sack of bricks, her fingers aching from gripping it so tight.

She could see Reese avoiding her eyes, looking like a guilty child caught red-handed.

Sylvia bit her lip hard to steady herself, ready to explain, but before she could say anything, Reese suddenly swayed and collapsed into Rupert’s arms.

Rupert, without missing a beat, pulled a pillbox from Reese’s purse and slipped a few tablets into her mouth.

Even after taking the medicine, Reese still looked frail.

Rupert set aside his cane and, ignoring his own condition, scooped her up in both arms.

“It’s too cold out here. Let’s get you inside,” he said.

Reese struggled weakly. “I can walk myself. You’re still recovering.”

Rupert ignored her protests and, without asking Sylvia for permission, carried Reese into the building.

Orson, not in the mood for banter, turned to leave—only to feel his belt suddenly yanked.

Orson, using every bit of self-control he’d learned over the past twenty years, hurled his apple straight at Zion.

Zion caught it effortlessly. “Thanks, man! How’d you know one wasn’t enough for me? You’re a real pal!”

Orson’s forehead was practically throbbing.

“Seriously, Mr. Sanford, where on earth did you find this guy?”

“Wire me fifty grand and I’ll tell you.”

—

As soon as Sylvia opened her apartment door, Rupert brushed past her and set Reese carefully down on the couch.

Reese clung to his hand, smiling weakly. “I’m really okay now. Don’t worry so much.”