Chapter 11

Last night?

Sylvia indeed spilled her guts.

She couldn't bear to see Rupert in such agony, so she gave in. At the height of their passion, amidst almost torturous teasing, she took the moment to bare her soul.

At the moment, she thought, perhaps Rupert would forget by tomorrow. But she would remember everything about this moment, and how close she had been to him at least once.

"Mr. Garcia, I have feelings for you. I've had them for a long time, ever since the day I walked into the Garcias' and you stood up for me. I've been secretly watching you. I know you might not care about me, but I...um...really...love you." Sylvia was sixteen when she joined the Garcias, dressed by her mother, Naomi, like a doll meant for display.

Naomi, unfamiliar with the minimalist fashion of the wealthy, just wanted her daughter to make a dazzling entrance into the Garcias'. Instead, Sylvia became the butt of jokes.

They called her an ugly duckling masquerading as a swan. Naomi, timid and afraid of confrontation, wouldn't even dare to rebuke the servants.

That was when Rupert appeared.

He was tall, clad in a black overcoat, standing under the porch flicking off the ash from his cigarette, exhaling smoke that veiled his face against the backdrop of softly falling snow. Aloof and dangerous, yet undeniably handsome. With just a look, he silenced the servants' mockery.

the formidable person of Kingstoria. He looked at her and simply said, "Not

her for a long time. So long that she could still recall the scent of

Their encounters were sporadic.

spring garden, she was near tears for dropping in class rank. He leaned against

by the pool, when her leg cramped while swimming, he dove in to rescue her, chiding her for her

street, when she was harassed and couldn't outrun her pursuer, he got

him gathered, moment by moment, through the seasons,

Yet...

past life. Her heart, sincere and passionate, bloomed amidst his desires, only to be met with slander and scorn, and her daughter's tragic death. Since Rupert

gaze, unable to

wrong, I never said

calling me 'uncle'

"Uncle."

his fingers playing with a cigarette. Their eyes met, and he snapped the cigarette in half, tobacco fluttering

chest, a feeling

Rupert said

wanted. After turning off the engine, Rupert glanced at Orson, who quickly

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