Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 379

Just as Balthazar had said, as long as the stakes were high enough, there was no deal that couldn't be struck.

Victoria stood up and reached for the list on the table. "We cannot do this inside Athelvia. You must take them to international waters tonight."

Balthazar stood and gentlemanly extended his hand. "A pleasure doing business with you."

*

Back in the grand hall, the party raged on.

Vivienne wandered around but found nothing interesting to occupy her time. Lethargy set in, and she let out a long yawn.

"Miss Lexton, Mrs. Ravenshire would like to see you."

With tears of boredom pricking her eyes, Vivienne looked utterly listless. "Oh, you're the one who works for Victoria..."

She recognized the woman but hadn't bothered to remember her name.

Moira bowed her head slightly. "Miss Lexton, my name is Moira. I'm Mrs. Ravenshire's personal secretary."

"Right," Vivienne mumbled. "Did you say Victoria is looking for me?"

"Yes. It's too crowded in the hall. She asked if you could speak in private in her suite."

"No," Vivienne rejected the invitation without a second thought.

Moira seemed prepared for this reaction, her tone remaining steady. "Mrs. Ravenshire said that if you refuse, she'll dispose of Mr. Cyril however she sees fit."

Vivienne frowned and glanced around. Come to think of it, Cyril had been gone for quite a while.

Moira took a step closer, lowering her voice. "Surely you don't want anything bad to happen to him."

Vivienne gave the woman a sideways glance. "Go tell Victoria that if she wants to dispose of Cyril Bean in private, I have zero objections."

Moira froze, completely caught off guard.

Just a moment ago, the girl had torn the room apart defending him. How could she suddenly not care whether he lived or died?

Vivienne let out another lazy yawn. "This gala is so boring. Hey, tell Victoria I'm going home."

Cyril was more than capable of handling Victoria. If he was dead set on walking into her trap, why should she interfere?

Vivienne waved dismissively and walked right out of the hall.

Moira stood rooted to the spot. After a moment of hesitation, she pulled out her phone. "It's me. Miss Lexton is leaving. She has three bodyguards with her."

Cyril lifted his gaze, looking at the woman before him.

Finally.

"Mrs. Ravenshire has requested you join her in her suite."

Cyril stayed silent for a moment before standing up. Moira lowered her head and stepped aside to lead the way.

Over the past three years, she had witnessed nearly every humiliation this young man had endured.

Knowing how obsessed the elite socialites were with Cyril, Victoria frequently hosted high-society mixers. Her official excuse was asking Cyril to entertain them, but in reality, she was serving him up to be harassed and mocked by spoiled girls.

True heirs like Alaric, Julian, or Preston would never tolerate such degradation. Victoria used these methods to broadcast a clear message: even though Cyril was a Ravenshire, he would forever be a cheap imitation.

But youth is fragile and easily broken. Everyone assumed Cyril would snap within days. Instead, he shattered their expectations. Covered in mud, he never lost his composure. He treated every arrogant heiress with polite sincerity, effortlessly deflecting even their most humiliating demands.

The ultimate twist left everyone breathless. The vicious socialites stopped mocking him entirely. Instead, they fell over themselves fighting to marry him, turning against their best friends, running away from home, and rebelling against arranged marriages just for a chance with him.

As Cyril walked past her, Moira looked up. A beam of moonlight caught the bridge of his nose, highlighting his impossibly gentle features.

Moira's heart skipped a beat. No wonder he was labeled an absolute heartbreaker among the heiresses; even the moonlight seemed to favor him. Such a pity...