Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 55

The next day, Vivienne woke up early, intending to ask Caspian how to get smart—and grow a new brain—in the shortest amount of time.

She set off full of ambition but returned in defeat. The staff at Northwing Court told her that the old master had gone out.

Her goal unachieved, Vivienne slumped against the windowsill like a deflated ball.

“Mr. Cyril.”

As she was wallowing in boredom, Cyril led a group of people into the parlor. The staff in the courtyard greeted him, then let his people begin moving the flowers and plants from the front garden.

“Hey,” Vivienne called over one of the housekeepers, pointing at the activity near the parlor. “What are they doing? Grandpa spent so long tending to that Peonielle. Aren’t they afraid of damaging it?”

The housekeeper glanced over and replied with a smile, “The old master already promised those flowers to Mr. Cyril. He even gave instructions this morning before he left.”

He gave them to Cyril?

Vivienne felt a pang of jealousy. That was Grandpa’s favorite flower. How could Cyril have the audacity to ask for it? Grandpa was way too nice to him.

A few nimble workers from Blackbriar Wing arrived, each carrying a pot of peonies. Cyril observed for a long time before finally selecting the Peonielle, which was still just a seedling. Seeing that the selection was nearly complete, Cyril was about to head back to Blackbriar Wing when he heard someone call his name.

“Hey! Cyril!”

The boy stopped in his tracks. Holding the flower, he turned to see a girl leaning out of a latticed window under the covered walkway, smiling and waving at him. “Come here.”

Cyril fell silent for a moment before changing direction and walking under the walkway.

“You called me?” His eyes shimmered, and even a casual glance gave the illusion of focused affection.

“Hey!” Vivienne launched herself halfway out of the window and grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Come back, I’m not done talking.”

Cyril stopped again and glanced at her. It wasn’t that he was being obedient; it was that another step and the shorty would have him in a chokehold.

Vivienne tilted her chin up, pointing at the Peonielle in his arms. “That’s Grandpa’s favorite flower. You can’t take it. Give it to me.”

Was this shorty addicted to giving orders? Cyril raised an eyebrow. Seeing that no one was around, he leaned in closer. “Grandpa doesn’t like it, and I couldn’t care less about it.”

Vivienne looked up, her eyes wide with shock. What was with this guy? He was the original wolf in sheep’s clothing, the absolute master of hypocrisy. Was he dropping the act already?

Cyril automatically interpreted the shock in her eyes as stupidity and offered some gentle advice. “You’re young. If you start reading more now, maybe there’s still hope for you.”

Vivienne frowned. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”