Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 385

The manager nodded. “Everything’s been done just as you asked.”

The man didn’t reply. He lowered his gaze, lighting a cigarette. Through the soft haze, he murmured, “She always did look best in red.”

…

Two days later.

Sylvia slipped into a pale champagne bridesmaid’s dress. To avoid any trouble from Bridget, she kept her makeup minimal—just a touch of foundation and a swipe of lipstick. She didn’t even bother with a glance in the mirror before heading out.

She called a cab straight to the Grand Kingstoria, the city’s most luxurious hotel.

By the time she arrived, the place was buzzing. Photographers swarmed the entrance, and guests were the kind of people you only ever saw in glossy magazines or on social media—old money, socialites, and the who’s who of high society. Rupert’s wedding was clearly the event of the year.

Sylvia was a bridesmaid, but Bridget hadn’t involved her in any of the wedding planning. It was obvious Bridget’s only reason for having her there was to make things awkward.

When the ceremony was about to start, Sylvia finally dragged herself into the prep room. She’d promised Tristan she’d at least go through the motions.

As soon as she walked in, the stylists stopped in their tracks, openly stunned. The simple bridesmaid dress somehow made Sylvia’s beauty even more striking. If she hadn’t told them, they’d have thought she was wearing a custom designer gown.

Some people could make a potato sack look good, and Sylvia was definitely one of them.

Bridget noticed the attention Sylvia was getting and gripped her own dress tight. She shot Sylvia a look, her face arranged in a perfectly polite smile.

“Could you all give me and Sylvia a moment alone? I need to run through the ceremony details with her.”

As soon as the door closed, Bridget dropped the act.

“Sylvia, you can doll yourself up all you want, but you’re still just the bridesmaid. I’m the one walking down the aisle.”

Sylvia gave her a cool look. “Don’t worry, Bridget. I’m not here to steal your thunder. I honestly wish you both the best.”

Sylvia felt hollow as she followed her into the grand ballroom, taking her place behind Bridget as the wedding march began. She lifted her eyes to the altar.

There he was—Rupert. The soft golden lights made him look almost unreal: jet-black tux, tall and handsome, every line of his face both elegant and dangerous. But when he looked at Bridget, his whole expression softened.

So this was what it looked like, Rupert getting married.

You finally got what you always wanted.

But did you really need to be so cruel? To make her stand here and watch them be happy, while she drowned in memories that cut like glass?

Sylvia watched him, the weight of everything they’d been through pressing down on her until it hurt to breathe. It was like a thousand tiny shards of glass scraping through her veins.

She took a step back, desperate to get away from it all.

But just as she turned to leave, the wedding march came to a sudden, jarring stop…