Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Eloise gripped her phone tight and absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. "You know, I've been pregnant before, too," she said quietly.

Sylvia felt a sharp, stabbing ache in her chest. No wonder Eloise was falling apart.

"Hey, Sylvia, I'm not even drunk yet. Come on, have a couple drinks with me."

"Sure," Sylvia agreed. She knew Eloise needed to let off some steam-honestly, so did she.

A sleek black car cruised down the wide avenue. The window was rolled down a crack, letting wisps of cigarette smoke curl around the driver's shadowed face.

Orson, at the wheel, suddenly pulled to the curb. He nodded toward the sidewalk. "Mr. Rupert, that's Ms. Lloyd. Who's the guy with her?"

Rupert looked up just in time to see another man carrying her purse and laughing as he followed her into an underground bar.

His cigarette snapped in two between his fingers. The burning tip fell onto the back of his hand, but he didn't even flinch.

"Pull over," Rupert said coldly.

"Yes, sir."

Inside the bar, Sylvia was already feeling a little lightheaded after two shots of bourbon.

She grabbed Eloise's hand across the table. "Eloise, I figured it out. He never loved you. That's it! It's not your fault!"

Eloise, usually all business and steel, burst out laughing. "You're damn right! Screw him! Cheers!"

They clinked glasses, but after the next round, Eloise slumped over, completely out.noveldrama

Sylvia rubbed her aching forehead and let her cheek fall to the sticky table.

Across the room, a man at another table noticed and swaggered over, reaching for Sylvia's shirt.

Before he could touch her, a hand twisted his arm behind his back.

The guy yelped, ready to curse someone out-until he saw Rupert's ice-cold stare. His bravado crumbled in an instant.

"Mr. Rupert-sir, I—"

"Get lost," Rupert growled.

The guy bolted, clutching his arm.

Rupert stepped up to the table, glaring at the drunk, slumped Sylvia, his jaw clenched with fury.

"Orson, get someone to take Ms. Eloise home," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

Without another word, Rupert scooped Sylvia up into his arms and carried her out of the bar.

As they passed the counter, he shot a frosty look at the bartender, who froze, dropping two glasses in terror and watching in stunned silence as Rupert disappeared into the night.

On the drive home, Sylvia suddenly sat bolt upright and started banging on the car door.

"Stop the car! I'm gonna be sick!"

Orson pulled over, and Sylvia

stumbled out, barely making it to the

curb before she threw up. She

stayed hunched over for a white,

eyes watering, until a bottle of water

appeared under her nose.

"You can't even drink, but you're out here trying to drown your sorrows at midnight like everyone else?" Rupert's dry, mocking voice cut through the chill as he pressed a napkin toward her lips.

She recoiled, stepping back. The cold wind stung her eyes as she looked at him.

He seemed both close and impossibly far away-an outline blurred by the city lights, looming and unfamiliar.

Rupert slowly lowered his hand, frowning deeply. "Why didn't you come that night?"

That night? The last night in Mountain City?

Every time she thought about it, Sylvia felt sick all over again.

He'd gone to such lengths just to parade her in front of Bridget, to rub her face in their relationship?

A wave of cold anger swept over her, layered with the day's humiliation. She kept her distance, her tone sharp. "Why should I have gone, Rupert? Just so I could be humiliated?"

He met her gaze, calm and unreadable. "Why would you say that?"

His calmness stabbed at her, a cold needle right in her heart. How could he always act like nothing had happened, so composed and

indifferent? Why did she alwal net

have to be the one left to pick up the pieces?

Sylvia let out a shaky laugh, pale as paper. When she opened her eyes again,

she had nothing left to say.

She shook her head and turned to leave.

Rupert caught her wrist.

His touch jolted her, and Bridget's words echoed in her mind: "Guess that's all you're worth to him."

Still half-drunk, Sylvia finally snapped.

SLAP!