Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 93

Half an hour later, the group of young men emerged from the Talos Club's VIP exit, laughing boisterously.

“Julian, you were incredible! Looks like you didn’t waste your summer. That serve was amazing. The look on that bastard Harrison’s face was priceless.”

“Haha, damn right! Julian’s serves are more powerful than bullets. Did you see how that bastard dropped his racket at the end?”

“That’s our Julian for you. Tristan Whitmore just stood there and watched his buddy get destroyed without daring to say a word.”

Julian had heard this kind of flattery many times before. He just smiled, not even bothering to acknowledge it.

Just then, his phone rang. He tossed his racket to his friend and pulled out his phone. His expression flickered for a second, and he shot a look at his posse, who immediately fell silent.

“Dad.”

Julian listened to the person on the other end.

His face grew impatient. “I’m not going. And stay out of my business from now on.”

He listened again.

His expression shifted, and his tone became lazy again. “What’s in it for me?”

He listened once more.

Apparently satisfied with the offer, he grunted in agreement and hung up.

The friend, seeing Julian's sour expression, asked cautiously, “What’s wrong? Did you get into another fight with your old man?”

Julian shook his head, his brow furrowed into a tight knot. “There goes my summer. I have to go to Obsidian Estate.”

It was no exaggeration to say that in Athelvia, Obsidian Estate was as much a symbol of power as Solenforth Sovereign Hall.

Vivienne nodded. “I understand. Your health is more important. Please take care of yourself.”

Deeply touched, Elise asked, “Were you waiting for Mr. Ravenshire just now? With everything that happened at the estate today, all the sons, daughters, and sons-in-law have returned. I’m afraid it will be a while before he comes back.”

“Is that so?” Vivienne sipped her milk sullenly. “The Whitmores seemed really aggressive. I wanted to ask Grandfather what happened to them.”

Elise glanced around before leaning in and whispering, “I heard old Mr. Whitmore called a doctor. They say Mr. Damien Whitmore’s leg can’t be fixed.”

Vivienne frowned. “Just a broken leg?”

Elise stared, confused. “Oh, you sweet child, that’s a Whitmore scion we’re talking about! A broken leg isn’t enough? It’s only because it was our Mr. Ravenshire. If it were anyone else, wouldn’t the Whitmores have skinned them alive?”

Vivienne’s eyes flickered. She smiled, looking fragile and harmless, then finished her milk in one gulp and handed the glass back to Elise. “I don’t understand these things. I only know they’re bad people, and bad people should be punished.”

The remark was childish, and Elise didn't think much of it. She took the glass, agreeing wholeheartedly. “You’re right, Miss Lexton. They were so menacing, of course they’re bad people. People like that will eventually get what’s coming to them…”