Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 239

"Exactly." Graham let out a hearty laugh. The boy he had raised was certainly cut from the same cloth.

"However..." Graham paused for a moment. "Those three Ravenshire boys are not to be underestimated. You need to watch your back around them."

Preston shrugged it off. "That sounds like Caspian's future headache. Why should I care?"

Graham paused, then shook his head with a quiet chuckle.

The boy had a point. Having one exceptional heir in a generation was like hitting the genetic jackpot. Having three at the same time? Whether that was a blessing or a curse was yet to be seen.

They were all fiercely proud and brilliant. Who among them would be willing to bow to the others? How Caspian planned to balance that scale was going to be a massive problem.

Meanwhile, in a luxury van headed in the opposite direction.

Harrison Montclair was sobbing, his face a mess of tears.

"Dad, look at what they did to me! And you still want me to publicly apologize to Cyril?"

Reginald looked at Harrison's plaster-cast leg, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes. But when he remembered that this broken leg had single-handedly reversed the Montclair family's fortunes, the guilt vanished without a trace.

"Stop whining. I am not asking for your permission. I am giving you an order."

Harrison felt a surge of indignation. "No! I am not bowing down to some illegitimate bastard! How am I supposed to show my face at school after this?"

"School!" Reginald's temper flared. If Harrison weren't already battered, he would have slapped him across the face.

"I sent you there to get an education, not to act like a street thug! You better cut ties with whatever toxic crowd you're running with. If I find out you're associating with trash again, you can say goodbye to your other leg!"

"Grandpa."

"Shut up! Are you eating again, you chubby waste of space?! Eat, eat, eat! That's all you do! You're gaining fat, not brain cells! I'm warning you, you are going on a diet starting tomorrow. Our family has excellent genes, there is no reason for you to look like a potato. If you lose weight and you're still ugly, I am sending you to get plastic surgery! I've already picked out the reference photo. I want you looking exactly like Cyril Ravenshire!"

Meanwhile, on a warship in the West Gulf, a decorated military commander with a five-star insignia stared blankly at the twenty subordinates standing in front of him.

"Who the hell is Cyril Ravenshire?"

In the World Trade Center, a two-hundred-pound man chewing on a massive steak hung up the phone with tears in his eyes, looking completely innocent.

"Seriously, who is Cyril Ravenshire?"