Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 109

Bridget heaved with nausea, gagging but unable to vomit.

"You two have been spouting nonsense!" Sylvia shouted. "You like leftovers, huh? Well, I've got something for you!"

In a flash, she grabbed a glass of water- one that had been used for soaking one of the uncles' dentures- and splashed it into Miriam's screaming mouth.

The screams intensified.

The uncle jumped up, stuttering and gesturing frantically. "Hey, hey, don't swallow my dentures!"

Tristan, having never witnessed such chaos, was shocked into silence before finally yelling, "Sylvia! Stop this at once!"

But Sylvia, standing on the table, loomed over the old man, her voice now even more furious. "Why scold Edwin without even asking for a reason? All these years, you've criticized him mercilessly, both in public and in private! Have you ever stopped to think about how your attitude affects how others treat him?

People might call him Mr. Edwin Garcia out of respect, but behind his back, they’re eager to kick him down. Even these two," she gestured toward Miriam and her daughter, "dare to trample on his dignity!

Isn't Edwin your own son? And what about my mom? Sure, she didn't come from money, but what has she done wrong all these years with the Garcias? You had to go and injure your back horse riding, and my mom was there, caring for you from 4 in the morning till 9 at night for three months! Who else in this family has done that? Everyone talks about duty and care, but then they're 'too busy with work' to visit more than once a month!

And yet, you can't even give my mom a kind look, letting others talk about her behind her back! It's always 'that outsider' this and 'that outsider' that, never Mrs. Naomi Garcia, the heart of this household! Why are you pushing our family to the brink? Why?!"

Her outburst wasn't madness; it was a release of years of pent-up frustration, a glimpse into the stifling life they'd endured in a household ruled by favoritism, where the unfavored were trampled underfoot.

Tristan stood frozen, momentarily speechless, struggling to maintain his authority as he pointed at Sylvia, his nostrils flaring. "Insolence! This is not the place for your wild accusations! Get down from there!"

Now, it was their turn to look as pale as ghosts.

Bridget was the first to recover, "It's fake! All fake! Sylvia, why are you framing us?"

Her tears could have won her an award for “Most Wrongfully Accused” if this were a soap opera. But today, Sylvia was beyond reasoning. As long as her fury drove her, no one was going to escape her wrath.

She grabbed a cake knife and leaped in front of Miriam, the pampered socialite no match for her.

Sylvia pinned her to the table, the knife pressing against her throat, and Miriam was too terrified to speak. "Bridget, is the recording fake? Tell me!"

Bridget, you liked using Naomi to threaten me, didn't you? How does it feel now, being threatened with your loved ones?