Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 128

Did Bridget dare?

Not in a million years.

She had admitted it herself- her phone was loaded with photos from that day, all taken to humiliate Naomi and Edwin. But it was no longer up to her whether to hand it over.

Tristan glanced at the bodyguard behind him, who promptly snatched Bridget's phone and cracked the screen's lock. Scrolling through the gallery, hundreds of photos made Tristan nearly crush the phone in anger.

"Bridget, you're really pushing your luck. It seems my warning wasn't clear enough!"

"Tri... Tristan, I didn't mean..." Bridget stammered, her legs trembling as she nearly collapsed in a desperate attempt to plead. But Tristan didn't spare her a glance. With cold precision, he tossed the phone to Rupert and commanded, "Deal with it." "Understood."

Rupert's response was calm and collected.

At that moment, Chris walked in, and the sight of Sylvia nearly made him scream.

"Sylvia! Can't you act a bit more like a patient? I'm trying to give you an IV and you're turning it into a blood donation!"

Everyone's attention turned to the IV line, where blood had begun to backflow into Sylvia's drip. The sight was unsettling.

slumped into Chris's arms, her voice troubled. "Doctor, something felt wrong just now. Could it be from the

alcohol level- it was through the roof! Thought you were a professional drinker or something! Your problem isn't the drink. I told you not to stress yourself out. Did someone upset you again? Dammit! What were they thinking!" Chris exclaimed

had explained everything, and Sylvia

scoffed and walked

Bridget a light glance

plane because I heard about Bridget

Bridget had

Rupert nodded in acknowledgment.

turned to Sylvia. "Get some rest. See you in the

her gratitude,

hide her anger anymore, glaring fiercely

a beating, then being outmaneuvered so completely! Sylvia

an eye. Feels good,

do you still want me to apologize? If not, please

covering herself with a blanket and turning

...

followed Rupert back to her own room. Before she could speak, tears were already streaming down

did to offend

a glance, then leaned against the window, lighting a cigarette. In the swirling smoke, he squinted his eyes. "Stop crying. It's