Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 153

"Oh?" Bailey's gaze shifted, the amusement in her voice hardening into a cold edge. "What do you mean?"

"You're wearing that ring on your pinky, deliberately avoiding the fingers associated with love and romance.

Ten years ago, your husband died in a car crash. But he wasn't alone, was he? His mistress - a woman who adored camellias - died clutching one he'd given her. Even this estate, Camellia Manor, was a gift he bought with your money for her. And now, it's your trophy." With those words, Sylvia approached the charred remnants of the small garden, suddenly turning to face Bailey with a cold expression.

Her voice softened. "Bailey, the camellias here do bloom beautifully, don't they?"

"Of course, they're well-tended to. But what does that have to do with you burning them down?"

"Bailey, you spend weeks here every year, abandoning work, drowning in memories. It's a shame- a capable and bold woman like you, trapped in Camellia Manor over a man who was never worth it."

Sylvia's voice tightened, and she turned back to the ashes, watching as they rose into the air. A faint sting pricked her nose, carrying with it a phantom scent, bitter and familiar, like the crematorium she couldn't forget.

In the end, none of it was worth it.

laugh. "A fine 'not worth it.' I didn't expect you to have such insight. Well burned, indeed. It should have been done long ago. Such a waste of good

the butler with a sense of release. "Clear

The butler nodded. "Yes."

"I want the design draft in three days. I don't like to

"Alright," Sylvia agreed.

shocked to speak. They had started the fire, so why

Sylvia had explained the reason for the fire,

resentful expression didn't escape Sylvia's notice. Before ĕ Bridget could voice her complaints, Sylvia reached into her pocket and pulled something out, holding it

It was a lighter.

all together just now; I couldn't have stolen the lighter in front of everyone. Later, I accompanied Freya to the leaving no time

fell on

estroom,

"Ms. Simpson, maybe you dropped it by accident

eagerly. "Yes, that must be it. I believe Sylvia wouldn't

resentment and respond with forced smiles. Suddenly, a thunderous boom rolled across the sky, followed by a thick mist creeping over

retreated to the shelter of the