Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

"She did all this for the Carmens-she admitted herself that she set me and Uncle Rupert up, and when she succeeded, the Garcias practically belonged to the Carmens. All she ever cared about was her own family."

A wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

"Can you believe it? It was her who wrecked Rupert and Sylvia," someone whispered.

"Makes sense now. She was the one who organized that seafood dinner- tampering with the food would've been a piece of cake for her. No one even suspected."

"Seriously, does she think the Carmens are still the same powerhouse they were twenty years ago?"

The whispers broke down what little composure Fiona had left.

She looked frail and sickly, like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsing right onto the floor.

Her fists clenched weakly. "Is it so wrong to fight for my family? Tristan only agreed to marry me because of my family's influence! When we started going downhill, he didn't lift a finger to help. All he did was nitpick and criticize. This is all his fault!"

Fiona glared up at Tristan, who sat at the head of the table.

a lost cause-helping you would be a waste."

her mouth. "Ha... in the end, we're all just pawns in someone's

hand dismissively. "Take her out. I won't have her spreading

the maids help Fiona out of the

the corner, his mind

Tristan glanced his way, there was a flicker

flicked the lid aside, and said solemnly, "Fiona's been

everyone murmured in agreement,

expression softened, but his eyes hardened again when he looked at the

them off. There's no point taking in just anyone. As for Fiona,

My name is Miles Garcia now, and I'd rather be as far from this place as possible. If Edwin hadn't told me about the mess with Rupert and Warren,

you insane?" Tristan snapped,

glory built on backstabbing and lies! And you don't even get me started on you." He pointed at the memorial shelf, voice trembling with fury "What right do you have to put my

followed Patrick's gaze, noticing the old portrait for the first

his mother's picture, hands clenched so tightly on the

to intervene,