Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 71

She might not have been aiming for a photo op with Rupert from the get-go, but snagging a pic beside him was a surefire way to send the internet into a frenzy - and catch a sprinkle of stardom for herself.

After all, if people were not out for themselves, they were left behind. Christine was playing the game right.

Sylvia stepped aside, flashing Christine a smile, "Go ahead. Your dress today is a splash of midnight, you'll look stunning next to Mr. Garcia in photos."

She even served her a perfect excuse on a silver platter.

Christine, caught off guard, mumbled a thanks and made her way to Rupert's other side. Sylvia, meanwhile, positioned herself at the far end.

As everyone arranged themselves for the photo, Rupert raised his hand to block the camera. He declared in a firm tone, "The contestants should be at the center."

Without missing a beat, he casually brushed off Bridget's hand and moved to the very edge, right next to Sylvia.

Instinctively, Sylvia tried to step away, only to feel a hand creep onto her back. The warmth of the palm through the thin fabric heated her skin, sending her into a panic.

She tried to gently pull his hand away, but he caught her hand, pressing it against her lower back. The thumb with the ruby ring softly caressed her arm, sending shivers down her spine. She couldn't break free.

Had he lost his mind? There were numerous people here!

Rupert lowered his gaze, his breath hot on Sylvia's head, whispering in a volume only she could hear, "Move again, and I'll spin you around."

Sylvia looked up at him, only for the photographers to choose that moment to snap away. It wasn't until Bridget eagerly approached that Rupert finally released Sylvia.

Bridget, with a subtle nudge to send Sylvia away, looped her arm in Rupert’s, signaling the photographers to take more shots.

A taste of her own medicine. Turnabout was fair play.

Sylvia hadn't been spared Bridget's sneers in her past life, mastering the art of retort was only fair.

Someone, who didn't excel academically but clinched the contest, has the audacity to sarcastically accuse the school of favoring Sylvia. It was only right if Sylvia insinuated that the competition had been rigged.

The reporters, ever the canny, quick on the uptake, shifted their focus to Bridget.

Bridget's face froze, her smile struggling to stay. She could only grit her teeth and signal an understanding to a reporter she had in her pocket.

The reporter muscled to the forefront, eyeing Sylvia directly, "Ms. Lloyd, looking at your and Ms. Simpson's entries, hers features sun motifs while yours happening to be moon and stars. Did you draw inspiration from her? As far as I know, you had seen Ms. Simpson's designs before the contest."