Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 2

And as slighting as before.

Rupert walked past her, not giving her a second glance as he made his way upstairs.

Minutes later, he descended, having slipped into one of the suits he had cherished for years. It was a suit specially designed for him by Bridget when they got engaged. Yet, Rupert still didn't look Sylvia's way.

For eight years, he had treated her with such cold indifference. Once he had intended to torment her, he'd pin her down, releasing his desire before leaving without giving her another look.

And as for their daughter...

He had even forbidden Stella from calling him dad.

Perhaps it was Sylvia's unusual silence that day that made Rupert pause, though he didn't turn around, "I won't be home tonight. Tell Stella not to call me for any reason." "Okay."

Sylvia caressed the urn that seemed to still carry Stella's warmth. If only he had looked at her, even just for a second, he might have noticed it.

As Rupert adjusted his cufflinks, he spoke with detachment, "Think about what you want in the divorce. We'll get the paperwork done in a few days. I don't want the kid." "Okay."

Sylvia remained calm, comforted by the thought that Stella would now be hers alone.

Rupert's hand faltered for a moment, but he didn't give Sylvia his attention, "Considering Stella saved Rufus, I'll cover all the medical and nutritional expenses. But I don't want to see you again. Consider this your final atonement." "Okay."

Sylvia thought to herself, indeed, they would never see each other again soon.

turned to leave when

call went through, the room

and

"I'm on my way."

the woman behind him clutching

the moonlight fell, Sylvia took out a birthday cake she had ordered for Stella from the fridge earlier. She lit the

Birthday to you, Happy Birthday

she doused the surroundings with gasoline, from the top floor to

then and refused

sat back at the

Birthday, Stella.

the birthday

...

party, Rupert made a grand entrance with Bridget and her son. The crowd praised their seemingly perfect happiness through toasting, with some even badmouthing Sylvia. Only Rupert's friend, a doctor, seemed concerned, and frowned, he quickly

Garcia, I'm sorry, but please,

"What do you mean?"

infection. Mrs. Garcia took her to the mortuary

Rupert lifted his glass and sipped

I already send you the death

nervously at that moment. Then, Rupert's phone

Garcia, your mansion is on