NovelEnglishSylvia.
Her again.
She let out a sharp, cold laugh, her voice low so only Rupert could hear. "If I can't have her, then no one can. And you don't even think about it." Right then, a motorcycle roared straight into the ballroom, sending guests scrambling and ducking behind tables and chairs.
The bike screeched to a halt right in front of Bridget. The rider stretched out a hand. "Bridget, con! Let's get out of here!" Without hesitating, Bridget grabbed their hand and swung onto the back of the bike. In a split second, they were gone, tearing out of the wedding and leaving chaos behind.
As they sped past, Bridget shot Sylvia a venomous look-a look that promised this wasn't over.
Up on the dais, Rupert's cool voice cut through the stunned silence.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"The bride's taken off-wedding's over. Folks, help yourselves to sfood before you go." Like this had nothing to do with him at all.
The event staff jumped into action, switching the wedding music to smellow jazz, trying to salvage the evening as if nothing had happened.
Only then did Sylvia snap back to reality, her phone buzzing insistently in her pocket.
It was a message from Naomi.
"Cto the lounge." "Okay," Sylvia texted back.
She glanced around. Rupert and the Garcias were nowhere in sight.
Not wanting to waste a second, Sylvia hurried toward the lounge.
She'd barely stepped inside when a glass flew right at her face. She froze, too stunned to react.
But Rupert, walking just ahead of her, didn't even flinch. The glass hit him in the temple. Shards skittered to the floor, and a trickle of blood slid down his face, making him look even colder, more dangerous.
The room went dead silent, nobody daring to breathe.
Tristan glared at Rupert, his voice seething. "Do you even know where we are right now? Why'd you have to say all that here?" Rupert calmly dabbed at the blood with a handkerchief. "If I don't show people what happens when they try to fool me, next tsomeone else will try to take advantage." "There was no need to make a circus out of it!" Rupert shrugged. "Dad, you're the one who taughtwait till the tis right, then strike hard. With the Garcias in so much trouble. lately, who knows how many people are waiting to pounce? If we just let this slide, everyone will think we're weak. I've already sent Orson to talk to the guests. They know exactly what they should and shouldn't say." He tossed the bloody handkerchief aside and sat down, pulling out a cigarette, surveying the room like a king in his court.
As he exhaled smoke, he absently spun the siring on his thumb. "What, you think I went too far? Maybe. After all... murder's not really my thing." At the mention of murder, Tristan's expression flickered.
He sat stiffly, fists clenched on his knees, eyes narrowed at Rupert. His gaze was so dark and intense you couldn't guess what he was thinking.
His lips thinned. Suddenly, he whipped around to stare at Sylvia.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"You and Bridget are friends. Did you know about this? Just what are you playing at?"
"I..." Sylvia started, meeting his gaze through the haze of cigarette smoke. of cigarette She shook her head. "I didn't know. If I had, do you think I'd have let her sabotageover and over?" ет
Naomi jumped in to back her up.
"Yeah, con! Sylvia's been getting m of dragged through the mud because of the Bridget for months. She didn't know a thing. Bridget's is none of her business." Tristan's scowl eased a little.
If Sylvia had known, there's no way she'd still be here.
He waved to Edwin. "Edwin, go calm down the guests. And get PR to put out a statement."
"Got it. Dad, Rupert's hurt, and he's a victim here too. Let's get him to the hospital first, Edwin said gently. Tristan hesitated, but nodded.
Edwin helped Rupert to his feet. Just as they were leaving, Tristan's voice rang out behind them.
"Find Bridget and her lover. I want to question them myself. I need to know what else I'm not being told." He cast one last look at Sylvia.
Her heart skipped a beat.
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