Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 453

Rupert didn't say a word. He just grabbed her hand and pulled her into the car.

The scenery outside blurred by, streetlights streaking in the dusk. After who knows how long, snow started falling again, soft flakes swirling past the window.

When the car finally stopped and the door swung open, the world was covered in another layer of fresh snow.

As Sylvia stepped out, a thick cashmere coat was draped over her shoulders. The warmth—and the scent of Rupert surrounded her in an instant.

By the time she came to her senses, she was standing in front of a sprawling suburban mansion.

Even in winter, with the gardens cloaked in white, the place looked straight out of a fairy tale. She could imagine what it must look like in spring, the flower beds bursting with color.

Sylvia could see it all clearly in her mind.

Because this was the house where, in another life, she'd set herself on fire.

Eight years of marriage, and this place had been a gilded cage—a beautiful prison.

She stared at the house, her voice cold as ice. "What's this supposed to mean?"

Rupert's gaze darkened. "I'll have someone pick up your things from your apartment. From now on, you'll be living here. I'll arrange for a driver, a housekeeper, whatever you need. Just tell them."

He didn't ask. He just decided for her.

he'd led her up to this same house and told her she'd be living here. Not "we,"-just her. Don't go out unless you

moment, Sylvia finally understood her place in his

her, there'd be someone else-some girl from a family with real power, with a trust fund and an Ivy

woman, a canary in a pretty cage. And to call her that was being

expected to serve one man, that's

in her eyes and forced a laugh, gesturing at the brick wall. "There used to

replied, his tone

fountain. "Tear that out and build a koi pond. Plant some lilies in the summer set up a sun umbrella and we'll eat watermelon and drink lemonade out here. It's

Rupert's eyes narrowed, sharp

pointing to a patch of empty ground, her hand trembling. "And over there-let's

little wooden sign

Garden'

voice went hoarse, her chest tightening at the memory-she could see Stella bouncing on her

own veggies, just like at preschool! And the sign has to say 'Stella's Kitchen

don't let Dad eat my veggies. I

can we leave this house? I don't want to live

wind swept through, scattering the memory

hands clamped hard on her shoulders.

Sylvia described matched the house

"Who am

She shot back, voice