Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 285

At that moment, Fiona had already scoured every inch of the scarf's front, but the gold-threaded 'S' she was looking for was nowhere to be found.

"This can't be! It must be on the other side!"

Inside and out, it was just a small piece of fabric, but Fiona turned it over three times and still came up empty-handed.

Tristan was starting to lose his patience. "Have you found it yet?"

Fiona was almost frantic, repeating, "I know I can find it! I just know it!"

"Hey sis, is this what you're looking for?" Rupert asked casually, pulling out a scarf from under his coat, the 'S' prominently embroidered on it.

"How is this possible? It shouldn't be!" Fiona stared at Rupert in disbelief.

Rupert draped the scarf over the chair's armrest, saying nonchalantly, "Everyone knows how much this scarf means to me. Why would I just hand it over to anyone?"

Sylvia couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her, but when she glanced up, there was nothing there.

Fiona, caught off guard, turned her glare towards Sylvia.

you weren't guilty of something, why were you so

gathered herself and explained, "Mrs. Fiona, wouldn't you be concerned if someone took your belongings? Besides, how could my cheap $10 scarf compare to Uncle Rupert's? Anyone can tell just

Sylvia left the tea shop, she'd been on edge. When she saw the scarf in the shop window, she worried Tristan might recognize it. So she popped into a nearby boutique,

those marks on her neck were still there. Hidden by her hair for now, but any sudden movement could reveal them. She needed to get that scarf

the scarf without drawing attention, Fiona, usually as calm as a morning breeze, was fuming from Sylvia's comments, clutching her chest and

chastising Sylvia,

retorting, "Warren, wasn't it Mrs.

"You..."

his eyes darkening

came from the head of the table Rupert set down his cup, lifting his eyes slightly, his gaze cold and

you do know how to respect your elders. You've been here for ages

not loud,

at him,

visibly slumping, instinctively

hoped Tristan would cut him

that he was

vei