Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 96

In the emergency room.

Other than a bit of a scare, Bridget was fine.

Wrapped in Rupert's jacket, Freya stood at the foot of the bed, tears streaming down her face. She looked even more pitiful than Bridget, who had actually been in the water.

Propped up by pillows, Bridget didn't wait for Freya to explain before she quietly started to cry.

"Rupert, it's my fault. I misunderstood Freya's intentions towards you, which is why I took your jacket. I... I accidentally hit her.

I just didn't expect her to suddenly go nuts and push me into the pond. Thankfully, you arrived just in time; otherwise, I can't even begin to imagine what might have happened."

Unlike Freya, who seemed to wear her vulnerability on her sleeve, Bridget wiped away her tears with elegance, embodying the grace of a wealthy heiress to the fullest.

Both were crying, but it was clear who did it more beautifully. A man like Rupert would never settle for someone who only played the victim.

Bridget glanced at Freya with a hint of superiority, as if saying, “Your time to beg for mercy will come!”

However, to Bridget's surprise, Freya didn't beg for mercy. Instead, she dramatically fell to her knees at Rupert's feet.

"I swear it wasn't on purpose! I'm just an ordinary girl. How could I possibly offend your fiancée? It was just... Ms. Simpson hit me so hard. I just wanted to explain that there was nothing going on between us, but somehow, she ended up in the pond.

Mr. Garcia, if you don't believe me, just look at my face."

Freya appeared to admit her mistake, but in reality, she was playing the victim. Kneeling, she looked up at Rupert, adopting the most pitiable posture imaginable. It was a scene designed to fulfill every man's fantasy of being the protector, especially with her face now swollen and bruised, making her ordinarily pleasant features appear even more pitiful.

As she spoke, she cried, and as she cried, she wiped away her tears. Her red, teary eyes timidly fixed on Rupert.

Bridget, lying in the bed, was so angry she wished she could march over and confront Freya face-to-face.

Freya might not have been as pretty as Bridget, but she was hoping Rupert would spare her an extra glance and remember her. Just as she was filled with hope, Rupert impatiently glanced at his watch.

Bridget looked down at her. "Then I suppose I should thank you?"

"I've benefited from you; it was the least I could do."

"At least you have some sense of reality," Bridget said as she got out of bed and lifted Freya's chin, smirking as she looked at her bruised cheeks, her eyes flashing with malice. "Since that's the case, leave behind what you shouldn't have taken, then get out."

What she shouldn't have taken? Freya paused, her grip tightening on the jacket she wore.

Removing the jacket would leave her nearly exposed.

"Ms. Simpson, please don't..."

Bridget coolly adjusted her hair, not sparing Freya a second glance. "Take it off, or I'll have someone remove it for you."