NovelUSAChapter 356 The moment Sylvia heard that Tristan Garcia was coming, she shoved Rupert away.
Rupert, still recovering from his injury, swayed unsteadily on the bed before managing to steady himself, his eyes darkening as he looked at Sylvia.
"You should go," he said quietly.
"Yeah," Sylvia replied after a beat, realizing she couldn't explain this mess on her own.
But just as she turned to leave, the door burst open.
Tristan stormed in, and the second he saw Rupert's wounded leg, his face twisted with rage.
He barely glanced at Sylvia before his hand shot out a sharp, echoing slap cracked across her face.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"This is how you repay the Garcia family for taking you in? What a disgrace!" Sylvia, still weak, staggered back and slammed into the wall. Stars exploded in her vision and she tasted blood at the corner of her mouth.
But Tristan wasn't finished. He raised his hand to strike again-only this time, Rupert caught his arm mid-air, stopping him cold.
The sudden movement tore open Rupert's stitches, dark red seeping through the bandages almost instantly. Tristan's face hardened. "Rupert, what the hell do you think you're doing? After what she's done to you, you're going to defend her? I can't even give her what she deserves?" "It's not necessary," Rupert said, his gaze flicking to Sylvia's swollen cheek. His face was so thunderous it could chill the room; his grip on Tristan tightened.
Tristan yanked his arm back, stunned.
They stood there, father and son, locked in a silent standoff.
Bridget, who'd cin right behind Tristan, suddenly rushed to Rupert's side, clutching his arm.
"Mr. Rupert, please, don't move! Your leg is still hurt-" She turned, eyes shining with tears, to Tristan. "Tristan, please, don't be angry. Mr. Rupert just means it's not worth getting worked up over Sylvia!" Sylvia's face went sheet-white, the red handprint standing out angry and raw.
She looked up at Rupert. He just frowned, saying nothing to defend her-or to contradict Bridget.
So that's what you meant, Sylvia thought bleakly. I get it now.
Tristan snorted, jabbing a finger at the door. "Get out. I don't want to see you here again." Bridget stepped forward, her voice soft but pointed. "Don't take it personally, Sylvia. Tristan's just worried about Mr. Rupert. Maybe you should go put something on that bruise. Besides, there's nothing for you to say here." The message was clear-Bridget was the lady of the house, and Sylvia was just an outsider.
Sylvia kept her eyes down and slipped out of the room.
She'd barely left when Chris Lennon arrived.
He took one look at Rupert's bleeding leg and hurried over, supporting him. "Are you out of your mind? Sure, it didn't hit bone, but the infection was bad enough as it is-and now you're bleeding O everywhere. You want to lose that leg?" Tristan and Bridget stared, stunned into silence.
They'd thought, seeing Rupert move so quickly, that he wasn't that badly hurt.
Turns out, he was just putting on a brave face.
Chris called for a nurse, who cin and changed the dressing.
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Rupert leaned back against the headboard, still pale, but his om expression was eertly calm. He grabbed a pack of Marlboros from the nightstand, shook one out, and stuck it between his lips. Chris started to protest, "Rupert, maybe lay off the-" but the look in Rupert's eyes made him stop short and take a step back.
Rupert lit the cigarette, eyes narrowed, the flflickering across his sharp features! When the lighter snapped shut, smoke curled around his face. "Everybody out," he said, voice flat.
Chris and Orson left first.
"You too," Rupert added, his eyes glacial as he stared at Bridget-no warmth, just cold command.
Bridget felt a prickle of dread down her spine. She knew new "everybodym meant her just like she'd tried to edge Sylvia out a minute ago. She didn't dare argue. She turned and left quietly.
As the door clicked shut, the room filled with the heavy scent of tobacco. Tristan scowled at it.
"Kicking everyone out-what, are you planning to puton trial now?"
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