Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 366

"Ms. Simpson, my little brother's started seeing this girl, and she says she won't marry him unless he drives a nice car. So... you know..."

Freya didn't even bother to sugarcoat it this time; she got straight to the point- money.

Bridget felt the vein at her temple throb.

The Simpson family wasn't what it used to be anymore.

Ever since Rupert pulled his investment, Simpson Holdings had been circling the drain. She'd tried to convince her father to put money into the Carmichael Group, but that had gone down like a lead balloon-they lost everything.

In Mountain City, Charles and Steven had seen how Rupert doted on her, and tried to curry favor-slipping her little "gifts" here and there. She'd sent every penny home to patch up the financial holes.

She'd thought everything would work out. Who could have guessed Charles and Steven would end up behind bars?

Now Rupert was auditing the accounts, and she'd had to return every cent.

Simpson Holdings was just a house of cards now. Otherwise, why would she have timed her pregnancy so carefully?

And on top of that, she still had to deal with Freya, the leech.

"What do you think I am, Freya? An ATM?"

on, Ms. Simpson, don't be like that. We're best friends, aren't we? We tell each other everything," Freya

not giving you any

as she could, but it wasn't long before a message popped up on her

was a photo. As soon as she opened it, Bridget's face went

over and over, dialing Caleb's number again and again. But Caleb

the seams, a wave of suffocating panic pressing down on

to calm herself. She stared at the thin sliver of moonlight outside her window,

you do one

"Deal."

way home, Sylvia got a call from Eloise's phone, but it wasn't Eloise's

bit too much to drink. Could you come pick

course. Can you tell

kind of tucked away, and

replied, and called

juggling a tote full of clothes, but the bag's handle snapped just as she

bent down to help her gather her things. "Here, let me take that. Go help your friend-I

really

handed over her bags and followed

tiny basement bar, all dark wood and retro

table, mumbling into her empty glass, "Why do they treat me like this? What did I

Eloise always seemed so carefree at