Why could Sylvia catch his eye?

The next moment, Freya lifted her damp eyes to look at the man sitting next to her. Her body swayed as she fell into his arms, hiding her face.

"Oops, sorry, I get a bit carsick sitting in the back."

Men, being men, rarely resist an embrace, and he quickly wrapped his arm around her with a smile.

"No worries, I've got you."

"Thanks, you're so kind."

Freya fought back her discomfort to thank him, all while plotting to tarnish Sylvia's image in Rupert's eyes.

...

In the taxi, Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief. "Christine, thank you."

Christine patted her chest, explaining, "No problem, but you should watch out for your friend. She's been parading around the office since this morning, emphasizing that she's your BFF. A lot of the guys seem to think she's their way in to get close to you." "I'll keep that in mind."

Sylvia's expression remained unchanged; Freya's actions didn't surprise her.

"By the way, I saw Freya talking to that guy from work, and Ms. Simpson went up to them, said something, and then got into that fancy car up front. That's Rupert's car, right?" Christine gestured outside the taxi.

Sylvia followed her gaze just in time to see a man's hand sticking out of the car window.

The slender, pale fingers held a cigarette, its ember glowing ominously in the fading sunlight, sending a shiver down her spine.

It seemed Bridget was involved in the earlier incident as well.

Leaning closer, Christine whispered, "Ms. Simpson seems nice to everyone else, but she's always picking on you. Could she be jealous of your talent?"

Sylvia frowned slightly at this and glanced at Christine.

They had only known each other for a couple of days, with just a brief encounter at a competition before this.

Christine had mentioned more than once the different treatment Sylvia received from Bridget compared to others. Anyone with a bit of sense would know better than to gossip about such things to someone they barely knew.

Office politics were always a sensitive topic.

Sylvia didn't fully grasp Christine's angle, but she brushed it off with a smile. "You might be overthinking it." Christine pursed her lips. "Maybe."

Sylvia got out at the school gates, waved goodbye, and transferred her share of the taxi fare to Christine. However, upon reaching her dormitory, she realized she'd left her keys back at the Garcia household. With a sigh, she decided to look for her roommates, only to find on Twitter that all three were working late.

Not wanting to bother anyone and unwilling to return to the Garcias, she turned to the dorm supervisor for help.

To her surprise, the usually diligent supervisor was nowhere to be found. She ended up waiting at the door for over an hour until a substitute supervisor finally showed up.

"The regular supervisor had an

emergency at home and left in a hurry, taking the drawer keys with her. All the spare dorm keys are locked inside. Maybe you could call a teacher, and they can get in touch with the dean to help get you a spare key."

After all the back and forth, Sylvia had no idea when she'd get back in. Besides, she wasn't on the best terms with the dean, and contacting him this late was bound to lead to a lecture.

As a student about to graduate, she didn't want the hassle, so she decided to spend the night at a nearby hotel.

Walking down the path near the school, her phone rang. It was Warren.

"Sylvia, you back yet?"

"I... made it back to college," Sylvia decided to be honest.

"Good, I was about to call you. I can't drive you to the studio tomorrow; I've got to go on a business trip."

"A business trip? Didn't you just get back from one?" Sylvia asked, surprised.

"Uncle needs me to handle some negotiations, so I have to go."

"That's so sudden. Mrs. Fiona hasn't been well lately, so it's unusual for him to send you on a trip."

"It's fine," Warren replied, his tone a bit resigned.

Sylvia sensed something was off and ventured, "Is this... related to me? Is it because of the legal letters sent to Bridget's fans?"

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