Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)
Chapter 128

Did Bridget dare?

Not in a million years.

She had admitted it herself- her phone was loaded with photos from that day, all taken to humiliate Naomi and Edwin. But it was no longer up to her whether to hand it over.

Tristan glanced at the bodyguard behind him, who promptly snatched Bridget's phone and cracked the screen's lock. Scrolling through the gallery, hundreds of photos made Tristan nearly crush the phone in anger.

"Bridget, you're really pushing your luck. It seems my warning wasn't clear enough!"

"Tri... Tristan, I didn't mean..." Bridget stammered, her legs trembling as she nearly collapsed in a desperate attempt to plead. But Tristan didn't spare her a glance. With cold precision, he tossed the phone to Rupert and commanded, "Deal with it." "Understood."

Rupert's response was calm and collected.

At that moment, Chris walked in, and the sight of Sylvia nearly made him scream.

"Sylvia! Can't you act a bit more like a patient? I'm trying to give you an IV and you're turning it into a blood donation!"

Everyone's attention turned to the IV line, where blood had begun to backflow into Sylvia's drip. The sight was unsettling.

Sylvia slumped into Chris's arms, her voice troubled. "Doctor, something felt wrong just now. Could it be from the drinks I had last night?"

"You're still on about drinking? How much did you even have? I tested your alcohol level- it was through the roof! Thought you were a professional drinker or something! Your problem isn't the drink. I told you not to stress yourself out. Did someone upset you again? Dammit! What were they thinking!" Chris exclaimed loudly.

Chris had explained everything, and Sylvia could rest easy now.

Hearing this, Tristan scoffed and walked away.

Eloise, ever the clever one, gave Bridget a light glance before turning to Rupert.

"Rupert, I rushed here as soon as I got off the plane because I heard about Bridget from my assistant. I'm exhausted now, so I'll be heading back to rest."

The implication was clear: Bridget had taken advantage of her kindness.

Rupert nodded in acknowledgment.

Eloise turned to Sylvia. "Get some rest. See you in the studio."

Sylvia expressed her gratitude, "Thank you, Ms. Eloise."

As soon as Eloise left, Bridget couldn't hide her anger anymore, glaring fiercely at Sylvia.

How could she not be furious? Taking a beating, then being outmaneuvered so completely! Sylvia just smiled back.

An eye for an eye. Feels good, doesn't it?

"Uncle, do you still want me to apologize? If not, please have your people leave. I need to rest."

She then laid down, covering herself with a blanket and turning her back to everyone.

...

Bridget followed Rupert back to her own room. Before she could speak, tears were already streaming down her face.

"Rupert, I don't understand what I did to offend Sylvia. How could she frame me like this?"

Rupert gave her a glance, then leaned against the window, lighting a cigarette. In the swirling smoke, he squinted his eyes. "Stop crying. It's quite unattractive."

Bridget's tears halted, stuck on the

brink. She approached him timidly her wet eyes looking up at hime "Rupert, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you in a tough spot."

"If you knew it would put me in a tough spot, you should've known the consequences." Rupert placed Bridget's wiped-clean phone on the windowsill, then extinguished his cigarette with force, as if to crush the ashtray.

At that, Bridget's breathing tightened. Rupert said nothing and left the room. "Rupert... Rupert..." Bridget collapsed onto the edge of the bed, a picture of despair. After what felt like ages, her father called.

"Bridget, what have you done? Have you upset Rupert again? Why has Rupert pulled out of our latest project? Do you have any idea how

much effort I've put into

this?"

"I..." Bridget gasped, unable to believe Rupert's drastic actions.

"I don't care how you do it, but you must get Rupert to reinvest! We didn't raise you to just give up!"

Her father hung up with a slam, leaving a beep echoing in her ear. Filled with resentment, Bridget threw her phone, nearly hitting the person who had just entered.