Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

"What evidence?" Miriam blurted out, barely able to contain herself.

Freya wasted no time. She tapped on her phone and pulled up a recording, the timestamp blinking: last Christmas.

Back then, Sylvia and Freya had been as thick as thieves. There were no secrets between them.

But as the screen lit up, Sylvia's face drained of all color. Her clenched fists trembled at her sides, and her mind spun with dread.

In her past life, Freya had always managed to stay close to Bridget. No way she'd done that just by playing the victim. She always had dirt on someone, kept some leverage tucked away.

The recording played.

"Sylvia, you've been staring at those fireworks for ages. What's up? Making a secret wish?"

“No,” Sylvia replied, her voice thick with embarrassment, like she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Liar. Your face is all red. Bet you're thinking about Mr. Rupert again, aren't you?" "Shh! Keep it down! Someone might hear. He's already with someone else."

"It's just us, come on, spill. What were you really thinking about?"

Freya wouldn't let it go, and finally, Sylvia gave in and laughed.

"I wasn't wishing for anything. I just saw that little family ahead of us in line, and my mind wandered, that's all."

"Ohhh, so you want to marry Mr. Rupert and have your own little family? Come on, would you want a son or a daughter?"

Sylvia didn't answer. Honestly, what girl hadn't daydreamed about marrying the guy she liked and living happily ever after?

She let out a soft laugh. "A daughter."

The recording stopped.

there, biting her pale lip,

A daughter.

She'd had one.

Stella, she'd truly believed she

it was

gaze, her eyes dropped to

bother to explain herself. Even if she told Rupert she'd been tipsy that night,

voice rang out, loud

bet

heard it! Sylvia's always

that Ms. Simpson is pregnant, she's just

shadow fell over Sylvia. Rupert was towering above her,

of frost

she

deny it she had no idea what

was as good as an

"Shameless," Tristan snapped.

Sylvia, grabbing at

Miriam and Bridget had said far worse behind closed doors. Sylvia barely felt

hurt was Rupert's icy stare. She

the weight of his gaze and the hands holding her

finally stepped in, her voice trembling as

"Let her go!"

the struggle,

something, and

to the floor. Her

scattering

small cardboard box tumbled out, barely held together by the last bit of