Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Ever since she'd gotten tangled up in the messy triangle between Fanny, Bridget, and Caleb, everything had unfolded exactly as Rupert had planned.

It was nothing more than a strategic move just another step in his quest for real control over the mining company.

He watched her seek out Fanny, let Fanny torment her, and then sat back to reap the rewards like a patient fisherman waiting for the perfect catch.

Right now, Sylvia felt like her heart was being stabbed by a thousand needles. Her throat was tight, as if something was lodged there, squeezing the air out of her lungs until she could barely breathe.

After Orson left, Sylvia quietly returned to her seat.

She'd barely sat down when the flight attendant appeared with a tray of food. The sight of it made her stomach turn.

"I'm not hungry," she said, voice flat. "Just bring me a glass of wine."

The flight attendant hesitated, glancing at Rupert, who sat beside her.

Rupert looked up, his eyes cool and unreadable. "Drinking on an empty stomach?"

Sylvia didn't look at him. She kept her gaze glued to the clouds outside the window. "It won't kill me."

Rupert waved the attendant off, making it clear she wasn't to bring the wine.

He was unusually patient, nodding toward the food on her tray. "Eat something first. You need to take your meds soon."

The pneumonia had been serious-she'd only just gotten out of the hospital, and Dr. Chris had prescribed a little something to help her recover. The catch: she had to take it with food.

She was surprised Rupert even remembered.

Sylvia pressed her lips together, trying to push down the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.

Whatever Rupert's reasons-guilt, responsibility, or something else he was still just using her. That much was clear.

She shot a cold glance at the paperwork in his hand. "You're a busy man, Uncle Rupert. No need to trouble yourself with my little problems."

Rupert frowned, stood up, and came over to her seat. He grasped her chin, tipping her face up, a little too firmly.

"You going to eat by yourself," he said, voice low, "or do you need me to help?"

Sylvia clenched her jaw, refusing to

give in. Only when she caught the flight attendant peeking from behind the curtain-her eyes wide with

curiosity-did Sylvia finally andnoveldrama

grabbing her spoon with tight fingers.

in,

Rupert knew she hated anyone seeing them act too close. If word got back to

Tristan, both she and Naomi would be in trouble.

But Rupert never cared-he always pushed her.

Sylvia choked down a few bites, then shoved the plate aside and took her medicine. Afterward, she turned away and curled up in her seat,

half-lying, her body heavy with

exhaustion.

A while later, Rupert closed his file and turned to her. "You want some fruit?"

She didn't answer, but she could sense he wasn't pleased.

Just then, Rupert's phone chimed the distinctive Twitter notification. He shot a glance at the screen, then stood up and left the first-class cabin.

The meds made Sylvia feel fuzzy and distant, her eyelids drooping. She was just drifting off when she heard the flight attendants whispering behind her seat.

"Mr. Rupert is so thoughtful. Ms.

Simpson cut her hand a little and he acted like it was a big deal. Didn't

want to make a fuss, so he sat in

business class with her."

"Everyone online says they're about to get engaged. Looks like it's true. But who's

that woman in first class? They seem... close."

"Mr. Rupert said she's a relative. Just looking out for her."

They thought Sylvia was asleep, so they didn't bother to keep their voices down.

Sylvia's eyes snapped open, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.

How could she have forgotten? The one who really walked away unscathed from the whole Fanny mess wasn't her-it was Bridget.

Even though Rupert knew Bridget had betrayed him, he still cared about her. Typical. The old flame always had the most power.

Rupert didn't come back to first class for the rest of the flight to Mountain City.

When they landed, Sylvia got up to leave, and Orson came over.

"Ms. Lloyd, let me get your bags for you. You can just—”

Sylvia cut him off. "Orson, don't bother. I'm not that delicate. And you can drop the nice guy act, all right?"

Orson looked taken aback, as if he wanted to explain. But Sylvia was already gone, melting into the stream of passengers heading off the plane.