Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 614

An hour later.

Having collected their emotions, the grandfather and granddaughter arrived at the entrance of Crown Hospital.

"Have you thought it through?" Edmund asked.

Isolde nodded.

She had been trapped in relentless nightmares for days, but even so, she had never regretted her decision.

It had been her final, desperate gamble. Even if it meant shattering into pieces and being despised by everyone, she had accepted her fate.

She thought her life was set in stone, but today, Edmund showed her that she had other choices.

His words had moved her. For the first time, she wavered on the path she had chosen.

People usually embraced darkness only when they had no other way out. If given the choice, she actually wanted to be kind, just like Mina.

So, she wanted to try.

Edmund understood her intentions and pointed out gently, "Isolde, the family cannot make decisions for Mina. Whether she wants to see you is entirely up to her. You cannot force this."

Isolde nodded. "Don't worry, Grandfather. I understand."

The two made their way to Mina's room. Edmund stepped inside first, only to find the room empty.

His expression darkened instantly. He summoned the bodyguards stationed outside, but after intense questioning, no one knew where Mina had gone.

Furious, Edmund immediately deployed all his men to search the city. Since the Blackthornes were currently locked in a power struggle with the Whitmore family, they naturally suspected the Whitmores had made a move.

In an instant, paranoia swept through Stormhollow. Everyone was on high alert.

*

Merriton City.

Vivienne cautiously peeked her head out of the bedroom. After waiting a moment and hearing no movement, she snuck out, gently pulling the door shut behind her. Just as she turned around...

The doors on both sides opened simultaneously, and two tall figures stepped into the hallway.

Cyril was wearing an ultramarine knit sweater. He rarely wore such vibrant colors, but it looked strikingly good on him. Even though Vivienne had been startled, she couldn't help but stare.

Alaric glanced down at his own plain white shirt, his eyes darkening slightly.

The spacious hallway suddenly felt incredibly crowded.

Cyril noted the backpack slung over Vivienne’s shoulder. "You're going out?"

"Yep."

"Where to?" Alaric asked.

Suppressing her annoyance, Vivienne replied, "The port."

Alaric had wanted to ask who she was meeting, but seeing her irritation, he swallowed the question.

Cyril pulled out his phone. "I'll have Moira accompany you."

Vivienne shot him a sideways glare, her rebellious streak flaring up.

Cyril took a rare, authoritative stance. "This is Merriton City. The port is crawling with shady characters. Moira must go with you."

Vivienne thought for a second and didn't reject the idea outright. "But I'm about to miss the time I agreed on. If I wait for Moira, I'll be late."

"I'll drop you off first," Cyril offered. "Moira can meet you there."

It was a perfectly reasonable arrangement. Vivienne reluctantly nodded. "Fine."

Both of them froze. Alaric awkwardly steadied her shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Vivienne shook her head and quickly sat back up.

The amusement in Cyril's eyes vanished. "Lennox, keep your eyes on the road."

Lennox hurriedly apologized. "Yes, Boss. Sorry about that, Miss Lexton."

Vivienne didn't want to make a fuss. "It's fine. I'm running late, so just hurry."

"Yes, ma'am."

It was only a ten-minute drive from Cyril's apartment to the Merriton Port. To avoid the red lights, Lennox kept taking right turns.

But for some strange reason, pedestrians dashed out at three consecutive intersections. In just ten minutes, Vivienne had tackled Alaric three times. The final time, her face planted squarely against his chest.

Alaric noticeably stiffened.

Vivienne felt someone grab her wrist, forcefully pulling her upright.

Cyril pushed the door open and stepped out, a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "We're here. Get out."

Vivienne felt genuinely bad for Alaric. Others might not know, but she knew he was a germaphobe. Being crashed into three times probably had him fuming inside.

She really hadn't meant to torment him today.

"Uh, I'm gonna go."

She gave a vague wave, clicked her tongue at Cyril, and bolted into the crowd.

Alaric looked down at his chest. A faint pink lipstick mark was stamped perfectly onto his pristine white shirt.