Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 633

Stormhollow, the Everhart Estate.

Frederick Whitmore stood up to take his leave. "Well, it's getting late. My old bones need to get some rest."

Graham Everhart chuckled, his tone half-joking. "I told you ages ago, a man has to admit when he's old. When it's time to step down, you step down and give the young blood a chance." He cast a meaningful glance at Gideon. "Isn't that right, Gideon?"

Gideon pretended not to catch the underlying jab, offering a polite, hollow smile. "You're joking, Mr. Everhart."

Graham laughed and, after a few more pleasantries, personally walked them out of the estate.

Once inside their car, the polite facades vanished from both Frederick and Gideon's faces.

Gideon stared at the shrinking Everhart Estate in the rearview mirror, his voice dripping with resentment. "Dad! That old fox Graham is too greedy. Asking for half the light rail lines in North and South Merriton City right out of the gate? He's completely exploiting the situation."

Frederick was far more composed than his son. Despite his own annoyance, he replied coolly, "If we want an old fox like Graham to show his tail, we have to bleed a little. But now that the Everharts have given their word, our position is much stronger. I'll just have to collect this debt from the Blackthornes."

Hearing this, Gideon's expression softened slightly. "You're right, Dad."

"Edmund thought he could take me down with him. We'll see who the real winner is at the end of this," Frederick said coldly. "Gideon, notify the rest of the alliance. Since the Ravenshires are too big to swallow in one bite, we start with the Blackthornes. The Everharts are on board, so proceed exactly as planned."

"Understood."

"Those people are nothing but a pack of wolves," Frederick added, his eyes narrowing. "They want the meat but refuse to stick their necks out. There's no free lunch in this world. Tell them that at this feast, the Whitmores are taking the head of the table."

*

Graham stood beneath the grand white archway, quietly watching the Whitmores' car disappear into the night.

"So you agreed to the Whitmores' terms, Grandfather?"

Preston stepped out from the shadows of the archway, following his grandfather's gaze. "I thought you were going to wait a bit longer."

Graham finally pulled his eyes back and looked at the young man standing before him. "Wait for what?"

Graham smiled, his eyes dark and profound. "When a whale falls, a whole ecosystem thrives. Remember this, Preston. The higher you climb, the less you can afford to fall, because the ground beneath you is swarming with opportunists waiting to climb over your corpse. Today it's the Blackthornes. Tomorrow it could be the Warrens or the Lancasters."

"Does that mean the Blackthornes have already lost this match?"

"From where we stand, yes."

Because when a pack attacked together, they always had a lethal backup plan.

*

The Blackthorne Residence.

Edmund leaned back in his padded chair, looking utterly exhausted.

Sterling, overwhelmed with guilt, stood up and poured his elderly father a cup of hot tea. "Dad, have some tea."