Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 513

The leader swung his fist, and just like that, the VIP guy’s nose snapped with a sickening crunch.

“Don’t mess with people you shouldn’t,” the man warned, voice flat and dangerous.

“Y-yeah, I got it, I swear! Won’t happen again!” The VIP guy was practically on his knees, begging for mercy—gone was all the swagger from a minute ago.

Chris let out a low whistle. “Well, looks like someone finally got what was coming to him.”

He shot a glance at Sylvia and raised an eyebrow. “Feel better now?”

Sylvia gave a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Oh, sure. Maybe I should send the guy a trophy for ‘heroic justice’ or something.”

Anyone could tell she was being sarcastic.

Chris blinked, surprised. “He just got his face smashed in and you’re not even happy? The jerk was harassing you, wasn’t he?”

Sylvia just shrugged, her tone cold. “Let me put it this way: say someone gets assaulted. You could step in and help then and there, but instead you wait until later to play avenger. Sure, some people like being anonymous heroes. Some apologize. But who actually pays the price? If it were me, I’d rather go down swinging than wait around for someone to save me.”

Chris stared, glancing sideways at Rupert.

Rupert’s face had gone even darker.

Sylvia gave a tight smile and turned away. “Anyway, I’m bored. I’m gonna hit the restroom.”

As she walked off, Chris came over to Rupert with a sigh.

“She really doesn’t remember anything. You need to stop pushing her.”

Rupert pressed his lips together, flicked open his lighter with a snap, and lit a cigarette. He tossed the lighter aside and said nothing.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Since when did you get so weird about this stuff?”

A moment later, Rupert was still brooding, staring at where Sylvia had disappeared.

“If I could just sort out the whole Reese mess…”

Chris cut him off, his tone suddenly serious. “What are you planning?”

Rupert didn’t answer.

A few minutes later, Sylvia came back from the restroom, interrupting whatever tension was brewing between them.

Finally, she just let her hand drop and stared him right in the eyes. “So what should I call you, then? Mr. Rupert? Whatever works for you, I guess.”

“Do you have to talk to me like that?” Rupert’s voice was low, almost pleading.

Sylvia just looked back, puzzled. “Mr. Rupert, what exactly do you want from me?”

Her calm seemed to throw the usually cool and controlled Rupert off-balance. Emotions flickered behind his eyes—conflict, restraint, something she couldn’t quite read.

At last, he reached up, his fingers brushing her cheek, warm enough to leave a mark.

But just then, the phone on the seat lit up. Reese’s name flashed on the screen.

Sylvia’s expression didn’t change. “Mr. Rupert, Ms. Sanford’s calling.”

They froze for a moment, neither moving.

Rupert leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. “Wait for me tomorrow afternoon. I need to talk to you.”

And just like that, the moment passed.