Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 502

By now, the house was nothing but a hollowed-out skeleton, charred and broken.

After the firefighters finished, the garden was a muddy swamp, waterlogged and ruined.

Sooty puddles oozed across the scorched earth-everything, in that instant, was lost.

Orson spoke carefully: "Ms. Lloyd set up a candle timer in the kitchen. By the time anyone noticed, it was already too late."

Rupert stood stone-faced in front of what was left of the house, letting the bitter wind tangle his hair and sting his eyes.

Through the thick haze of smoke, he could almost make out two shadows under the blackened beams, one tall, one small.

He reached out, desperate to grab them, but Sylvia's voice echoed in his mind.

"Rupert, I hate you."

"The day I moved in, I set this place to burn."

And Sylvia had done it.

She burned away every last thing in that house.

Even those fleeting days of happiness.

Suddenly, Rupert thought of something. Without a second's hesitation, he turned and dashed through the mud-churned garden, heading for the veggie patch.

The soil, pounded by fire hoses, had been stripped bare, exposing the seeds they'd planted just days before.

Rupert crouched down, scooping up a handful of earth, searching for any sign of life.

He crushed a seed between his fingers-it was rotten through.

his head, knuckles white as he clenched

Spring would never come.

wouldn't even leave him

enough to destroy everything-and then

now she'd

ghostly pale, a bright line of blood blooming at his lips

his bandages, staining his

"Mr. Rupert!"

...

dusk settled, fireworks lit up the night sky, painting the horizon

room was dim and silent. The only

around

flickered in the gloom, smoke curling around his pale

filter, crushed

notice, just

that moment, the

the thick cloud of smoke. He marched over and snatched the cigarette from Rupert's

even care about your

He didn't light it—just rolled

knocked

from Boston are ready. First flight out tomorrow

"Okay."

dropped to the lighter in his hand, about to

the lighter away. "What the hell is wrong with

fingers, replied coldly, "She'll remember soon

the medical

to kill herself? Are you really that blind? Or do you

so smart, Rupert. Haven't you seen how she's hurting