Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 88

Aurelia Residences, the Everhart Estate.

The estate featured a classical garden with gray and white architecture, dense bamboo shadows, and dappled light, reminiscent of a picturesque southern landscape.

The Everhart patriarch, dressed in comfortable loungewear, with a pair of reading glasses hanging on his chest, was lounging in a rocking chair by the glass window with his legs crossed.

“Sir.” Simon stepped forward to take the phone.

Graham Everhart, with his eyes half-closed, shook his head. “Why did you stop? Don’t let me stop you. Keep the show going.”

In the center of the hall, a man in a gray suit wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, bowed his head, and then instantly adopted a professional air. He picked up a gavel from the long table and slammed it down with a crack!

“The story goes that after returning home, the Whitmore patriarch, Frederick, was filled with regret and immediately summoned a master of orthopedics to treat the young Mr. Whitmore…”

Simon silently refilled Graham Everhart's cup with hot tea. *Gossiping is one thing,* he thought, *but the old master actually wrote a script and hired a comedian to perform it as a dramatic tale. He's really one of a kind.*

With a chime, the elevator doors opened, and a young woman walked out.

“Grandpa.”

Graham opened his eyes and slowly sat up. “Oh, Sophia, you’re here. Was the noise too loud? Did I wake you?”

Sophia had short, neat hair and was dressed in black pants and a white T-shirt. She was taller than most girls her age, looking more like a boy than a young woman from a distance.

She scratched her ear and glanced into the main hall, a look of resignation on her face. “You've written a new play? What's the inspiration this time?”

Graham looked pleased with himself and beckoned to her. “Come and listen with me. I promise it’s absolutely brilliant!”

*Her grandfather's plays were more melodramatic than a primetime soap opera. She couldn't stand it.* Sophia shook her head without a second thought. “No thanks. I'm meeting Mina. She hates it when people are late. Her tongue is sharp, and I don't want to get chewed out.”

“Oh, that girl from the Blackthorne family?”

Graham looked a little disappointed. “Go on, then… Wait a minute!” Suddenly remembering something, the Everhart patriarch cleared his throat and asked, feigning casualness, “Is it just you and the Blackthorne girl? Is that little Ravenshire girl not with you?”

Sophia looked puzzled. “No. Why are you so interested in this, Grandpa?”

Graham took a sip of tea to hide his expression. “I’m just concerned about you. I heard you three used to hang out all the time. Why did you stop?”

“She was always the one clinging to us, but then Mina got tired of her and thought she was dumb, so we don't hang out much anymore.”

Sophia belatedly realized something. “Grandpa, why are you suddenly so interested in Vivienne?”

*Dumb?! Could someone 'dumb' make Frederick take such a huge fall?!*

Graham grew thoughtful and waved his hand. “I was just asking. Anyway, didn't you say the Blackthorne girl is waiting? You should go. I'll have Simon arrange a car for you. Be back early.”

Sophia nodded and turned to leave the main hall. After a few steps, she paused.

Was it her imagination, or did she just hear the name “Whitmore” in Grandpa's new story?

Frederick said, “Since it's come to this, you and Talia need to find a time to get divorced.”

“Never!” A vicious look flashed in Damien's eyes. “He thinks he can cripple me and walk away scot-free? In his dreams!”

Frederick frowned. “Put that aside for now. The priority is the matter of ‘Document No. 49’.”

Damien’s expression faltered, and he looked resentful. “Dad, we didn’t say anything back then. How did that little girl know? This whole thing feels… off. Maybe we should…”

Frederick raised a hand, silencing him with a sharp look. “Idiot! Do you really think that little girl came up with that on her own? Of all the things Caspian said, only one sentence was on the mark.”

Damien was confused.

Frederick’s gaze was deep and calculating. “‘She's just a child. She could never have fabricated a lie like that without someone coaching her.’ Since we didn't say anything, someone else must have. Caspian… oh, Caspian. I never expected you to have an ace like this up your sleeve.”

Damien was stunned. “Dad, are you saying Caspian is behind all this? Impossible! The ‘Document No. 49’ matter was handled so discreetly, it was practically seamless. Caspian couldn't have found out so quickly.”

Frederick shook his head, his expression one of a cunning, calculating veteran. “There are no airtight secrets in this world. Once you’ve done something, it's never seamless. That little girl was just a front. Caspian is sending us a message.”

Damien suddenly felt his father's analysis made perfect sense and began to panic. “Then… then what do we do? We’re already at odds with the Ravenshires. If Caspian knows, doesn't this mean the Whitmore family is finished?”

A dark current flickered in Frederick’s murky eyes. After careful consideration, he finally made a momentous decision.

“It seems our only option is to contact Mr. Lane.”