Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 473

The study was a semi-open space, its frosted glass walls facing directly toward his bed, where the black silk pajamas he had originally intended to wear were still resting.

He paused for a moment, walked over to the bed, and quietly tucked the pajamas under the duvet as he continued to dry his hair.

"What are you doing?"

Vivienne popped up right beside him.

A sudden, intoxicating floral scent washed over him. The warm, intimate proximity made his mind go completely blank for a second. The white towel slipped from his fingers, landing softly against his damp hair. When he finally snapped back to reality, the space between them had vanished.

The closeness of her body, their mingled breaths, and the memory of touches hidden beneath tangled sheets—the primal desires he had forcibly locked away with reason were suddenly and effortlessly reignited.

Cyril unconsciously leaned back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His hand, still hidden beneath the duvet, gripped the silk pajamas tightly.

Vivienne noticed his tense posture and tilted her head. "What's wrong with you?"

He turned his head away, his voice perfectly level. "I'm not feeling well today. I don't have the energy for your nonsense. You should leave."

"I'm not here for nonsense. I actually need you for something important." She pulled out her phone, opened the forum, and tapped on the latest image dump. "Here. Look at this."

Cyril cast a fleeting glance at the screen, and a dark storm brewed in his eyes. "This is your idea of something important?"

It was nothing but explicit garbage.

Annoyed by his dismissive tone, Vivienne frowned. "Look at it properly."

Cyril turned away.

"I said look!" She grabbed his face, forcing him to face the screen. "I told you it's serious. These people are posting new batches every thirty minutes. If this keeps up, Lara is going to be completely ruined."

Vivienne nodded fiercely. "They think they can hide behind their screens, that there's safety in numbers. I'm going to drag every last one of those disgusting roaches into the light."

Cyril studied her quietly, his gaze unreadable. "I recall you absolutely despising Lara. Why are you helping her?"

"Is it that strange?" She tilted her head in thought. "How does the saying go? If I stand back and watch today, there will be no one left to speak for me when the fire reaches my door. I'm not helping her; I'm defending a victim. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a woman to build a reputation? Destroying it, on the other hand, takes absolutely nothing—just one unverified, filthy rumor.

Lara might be an awful person, and she deserves to pay for the things she's done. But she shouldn't be destroyed like this."

She had once been dragged through the very same mud. She knew exactly how suffocating it felt to be drowning in public disgrace.

She wasn't saving Lara. She was refusing to bow to the tragic fate of her past. No matter how much she loathed the girl, she refused to stand by and watch a mob tear someone to pieces.

...