Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

He was stubborn to the core-old-fashioned, pigheaded, and about as

chauvinistic as they come.

Being called out like this in front of everyone by his usually quiet son was a punch to his pride. His face went red with anger. He snatched up his coffee mug and hurled it to the hardwood floor. The ceramic shattered, sending shards everywhere. No one dared even breathe.

"You've got some nerve, boy! Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?"

Edwin, for once, didn't back down. He met his father's glare, calm and steady. "Dad, you really think you had nothing to do with what happened to Warren? Not even a little?"

Tristan's jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscles jumping in his cheek. He said nothing, nostrils flaring.

Warren, who'd been staring at the floor the whole time, looked up, startled. "Uncle Edwin, what are you talking about?"

Edwin's lips twisted in a bitter half-smile. "Maybe it's better if someone else explains."

He turned to the old oak doors at the far end of the room.

Three figures slowly stepped inside.

and so did most of the others. Even Sylvia, who

Garcia. The man everyone thought had died years

face, much more so than Edwin, despite being

Warren's voice trembled. "You're

a small, apologetic

his feet, pointing a shaky finger at Rupert. "Dad, tell everyone was it

"Who told you that? Rupert had nothing to do

be!" Warren gasped, stumbling back

any of it, Tristan shot up out of his

to you? You look...

smiled gently, gesturing to the two people behind him. "Sorry, Dad. But I'm fine.

had been tense but at least civil, turned

the woman and her daughter. The woman wasn't Hollywood gorgeous, but she had clear eyes and a bright, open smile. Her short chestnut hair framed a healthy, sun-kissed face. The girl next to her, maybe eleven or twelve, was a perfect mix of both

notice that, unlike the rest of the family in their designer clothes and stiff postures, these two seemed refreshingly real. The cold, stifling air of the parlor suddenly felt

Tristan's voice boomed from the head

away as possible. And you-" he pointed at Patrick, "-you'll hold a press conference with Fiona and say you'd lost your memory, that you were