Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 97

**The Third Signature by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 97: Execute On the Spot**

Sylvara held her hands up, her expression one of feigned innocence. “You’re asking me? Who exactly should I be asking? I’m just as clueless as you are.”

Yet, inside, her heart was dancing with delight.

Could it be that her aunt, the one of minor nobility who always seemed to be rummaging through the bargain bins of life, hadn’t bothered to send the medical bills to her equally frugal husband but had instead gone directly to him to spill the beans?

And was it possible that her husband, the bargain-bin prince himself, had sent these people to confront her?

If this was indeed the handiwork of her penny-pinching husband, oh my stars, what a dream husband he was! A true genius of his time!

“You’re claiming you don’t know anything?” Veyric’s skepticism was palpable, and he wasn’t about to take her word for it. “Look at that grin on your face. You clearly know something. Just come clean and tell me.”

Coming clean could lead to a whole new level of trouble.

Confessing might bring about consequences far worse than her current predicament.

Do you think I’m an idiot?

Sylvara shot back, “What makes you think I’m grinning? I’m just as curious as you are! Besides, I don’t rub shoulders with any big shots. If you hadn’t mentioned that this is the Troya Empire’s Central Supreme Court aircraft, I wouldn’t have had a clue!”

She knew better than to admit that her bargain-bin husband was none other than the idol of the entire Troya Empire, His Highness Agares. “I hail from a waste planet. Want to see my registration records?”

“With your utter lack of common sense, it’s no surprise you crawled out of a dumpster,” Veyric replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He had no doubts about her claims of being from a waste planet, but something didn’t sit right with him. “Yet, you have a rich husband.”

“Sylvie, we’re going to be classmates for five years, after all. You have to tell me, who is this wealthy husband of yours?”

There was no way she would divulge that her bargain-bin husband was the hero of the Troya Empire.

Clearing her throat, Sylvara fabricated a response. “My husband? He’s just one of your idol’s subordinates.”

Veyric pointed at himself, his face a mask of confusion. “One of my idol’s subordinates? Who exactly is my idol?”

This had to be a case of a fake fan, right?

Hadn’t he just proclaimed earlier that he was a fan of Agares?

In the blink of an eye, he seemed to have forgotten who his idol was.

Totally a fake fan. No doubt about it.

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