Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Sylvia glanced at her, letting out a noncommittal hum.

The two of them made their way to the lounge area and ordered a couple of smoothies from the waiter.

Sylvia absentmindedly stirred her drink with a straw while across from her, Freya was chattering away, trying to convince her.

"Sylvia, face it. We can't compete with those wealthy folks."

"If you really try to run, the power of the Carmen family will hunt you down to the ends of the earth. We're talking millions here; you couldn't be worth that even if you sold yourself."

"Maybe... if you can find a way to fix this yourself, it wouldn't be the worst thing."

In a past life, Freya had been like this, pretending to have Sylvia's best interests at heart, gradually manipulating her into self-doubt and insecurity.

But now...

Sylvia paused, her hand still, as she leveled a gaze at Freya.

"Freya, do you really think it's okay to just give in and sacrifice yourself?"

"Of course! We need to know our limits. Do you think you're worth more than diamonds? Mr. Carmen is so wealthy; if he's willing to make a concession, that's an opportunity people would kill for."

Freya's tone was almost mocking, with a hint of disdain. If Sylvia weren't watching her, she'd probably suggest that Sylvia was only good for keeping a man's bed warm.

Sylvia nodded, looking down. "You're right. It's something others would envy."

"As long as you understand." Freya smirked into her smoothie.

As Sylvia picked up her glass, her hand slipped, spilling juice all over her dress. She quickly stood up, shaking out the fabric.

"I'll go ask for some napkins at the front desk."

She hurried off, accidentally bumping into someone along the way.

The person steadied her and, upon recognizing her face, greeted her, "Ms. Lloyd, are you alright?"

Holding her dress, Sylvia looked a bit exasperated. "Orson, sorry about that, my dress got wet, and I was going to get some napkins."

The one she bumped into was Orson, Rupert's assistant.

Orson glanced at the damp patches on her dress. "Ms. Lloyd, let me get a towel for you from the front desk."

"Thank you."

Orson quickly returned with a towel, which Sylvia accepted without immediately unfolding it.

Meanwhile, Bailey, someone else, had rushed over.

As the person arrived, Sylvia beamed at Orson, "Orson, I understand now. Thank Mr. Rupert for me, alright? You can get back to

work." ng

"Huh?" Orson was momentarily puzzled.

But before he could ask, Freya, like a persistent shadow, attached herself to thenoveldrama

conversation.

"Orson, what were you talking

about? What thank you? If you're et

here, then Mr. Rupert must be nearby, right? Where is he?"

Orson's expression turned icy. "Miss, Mr. Rupert doesn't know you. Why are you

so interested in his whereabouts?"

Freya's face froze, unwilling to back down, pointing

What herself. Pinet

how could Mr. Rupert not

e met many times, I'm

me?

Orson ignored her, turning back to Sylvia with a courteous nod. "Ms. Lloyd, I'll take my leave now."

"Take care."

As Orson departed, Freya's face twisted with frustration. She spun around, grabbing Sylvia's arm tightly.

"Sylvia, what did Orson say to you? What's going on with Mr. Rupert?"

Sylvia winced from the grip, but her eyes were filled with resignation.

"Freya, because we're such good friends, I'm telling you this. I don't even know what to choose anymore."

"What do you mean by that?" Freya's voice rose in intensity.

Sylvia sighed, slowly unfolding the towel in her hand.