Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 309

The banquet hall was a dazzling display of crystal chandeliers and clinking champagne glasses.

Staring at the opulent sea of high society, Cyril’s mind inexplicably drifted back to that apocalyptic fire in Merriton City.

It had been a night just like this. Thick, suffocating smoke had blacked out half the sky, only for the raging inferno to illuminate the darkness with a hellish, violent glow.

A soft, perfectly engineered smile touched his lips. In front of him was the pinnacle of wealth and power; in his mind, the agonizing, blood-curdling screams of a dying woman echoed relentlessly.

Dorian, deeply engaged in conversation with Sienna Markell, caught sight of Cyril entering the hall and immediately waved him over with a warm smile. "Cyril, come here."

The elegant scene superimposed itself over the burning woman in his memories. She was screaming, begging, "Cyril, run! Go find your..."

The hallucination shattered, the inferno instantly swallowed by the glittering lights, the intoxicating scent of perfume, and the soft pulse of classical music. The President's daughter was standing in front of him, blushing shyly.

Cyril's fingers gave a microscopic tremble before he smoothed his expression into a mask of flawless, captivating warmth.

Walking over with measured, graceful steps, he offered Sienna a polite nod. "Dad."

Sienna was completely captivated by his effortless, breathtaking smile. Before he even got close, her face burned as red as an apple.

Dorian didn't miss Sienna's obvious infatuation and his smile widened. "I was just chatting with Sienna. I hear you two went to the same university? It's incredibly busy tonight, and Mr. Markell isn't around. Why don't you take Miss Markell out for some fresh air on my behalf?"

Sienna looked up at Cyril, her eyes shining with pure anticipation.

Cyril 'froze' for a second, putting on a perfectly conflicted expression.

"What's wrong?" Dorian asked.

Cyril glanced over his shoulder. Edmund Blackthorne was cheerfully walking toward them, arm-in-arm with his granddaughter, Mina.

"I ran into Mr. Blackthorne on my way back," Cyril explained smoothly. "He mentioned that Mina was finding the banquet a bit dull and wanted me to keep her company. I... I couldn't exactly refuse, so I already agreed."

Having just dealt with the bullies, Talia returned to find Bianca sitting on the porch swing, staring blankly at the night sky.

"Why are you sitting out here? Waiting for me?"

Bianca snapped out of her daze, jumping off the swing and rushing over. "Mom, what's going to happen next? Are they—Lara and those other girls—going to face justice?"

Talia had assumed Bianca was furious over Vivienne's treatment tonight. She hadn't expected her to be fixated on the legal outcome.

Talia shook her head. "Most likely, no."

Bianca's face fell in deep disappointment. "Why? They were absolutely ruthless! What did those victims do wrong? Did they deserve to be tormented just because they were better than Lara?"

Talia paused, looking at her daughter with a newfound intensity.

"Mom," Bianca demanded, her voice trembling with righteous fury. "Do you actually think this is right?"