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.

a laugh. "A fine 'not worth it.' I didn't expect you to have such insight. Well burned, indeed. It

the butler with a sense of release. "Clear

The butler nodded. "Yes."

at Sylvia, smiling. "I want the design draft in three days. I

"Alright," Sylvia agreed.

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

frustration bubbling beneath her surface. Even though Sylvia had explained the reason for the fire, she hadn't clarified the motive for stealing the

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 up for everyone to

It was a lighter.

why was Ms. Simpson's lighter found here? We were all together just now; I couldn't have stolen

glances inevitably fell

estroom,

to respond, "Ms. Simpson, maybe you dropped it by accident when you

nodded eagerly. "Yes, that must be it. I believe Sylvia

they could only swallow their resentment and respond with forced smiles. Suddenly, a thunderous boom rolled across the sky, followed by

the