Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Sylvia jerked her head away, dodging Warren's touch.

His hand froze in midair, then he lowered it with a soft chuckle. "Still mad at me?"

He sounded just like someone soothing a sulking girlfriend.

But Sylvia felt cold sweat prickling down her back.

She struggled, voice tight. "What do you want from me?"

Warren watched her for a few seconds, ignoring her anger, his tone gentle. "You must be starving. Why don't you sit down and eat something first?"

He took his seat with effortless grace, signaling to the flight attendant.

Sylvia refused to sit, but the bodyguard behind her pressed down hard on her shoulders, forcing her into the plush leather seat.

The flight attendant poured them champagne and set down plates of freshly- seared steak, the aroma filling the private jet's cabin.

Warren raised his glass toward Sylvia, inviting her to toast.

Sylvia sat rigid, fists clenched, refusing to play along.

"Sylvia, let's be real. At this point, fighting me is only going to make things worse for you."

Warren's gaze burned through the rim of his champagne flute.

chill gripped Sylvia. She felt exposed, trapped under

But he was right.

in the air, what could she do? She didn't even

herself to look him in the

set the glass down, and began to slice into his

already destroyed every tracker you

went to

with the GPS chip

She clenched her fists tighter, swallowing her nerves. "When did you start working with Caleb no,

arched a

Ynet

But since you want to know, let's see... Was it that night at

word felt like a knife

known about Bridget and Caleb all along. Everything

nails dug into her

her to make sure I'd find out about Bridget's

night at the pub-you warned

caught in her throat,

"You thought Uncle Rupert was

exactly what

"And in Madison, that night— were you helping Bridget and