Rebirth In Divorce My New Mr. Perfect (by Summer Knowles) novel Chapter 874

Still in the car, Vivian sat in silence, her mind racing with questions.

What exactly was Grandpa doing?

Her assistant’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his voice trembled slightly.

“Miss Wilson… the company just sent out an email.”

Vivian’s eyes sharpened. She leaned over and locked her gaze on his screen. The moment she saw it, her pupils constricted.

“Why?”

It was an official company-wide message—and she knew without a doubt that it came from her grandfather. Aside from herself, he was the only one with the authority to send something like that.

It was a notice of personnel changes.

Her title had been removed. Her position was now listed as vacant, and all her responsibilities were being handed over to the vice president.

But why?

She had just been thrown out of City Hall not long ago. How had Grandpa found out so quickly—and already made all the preparations?

As soon as she got home, she rushed inside, desperate to find him. But Marianne stopped her at the stairs.

“Miss, Mr. Wilson’s busy right now. I think it’s best if you wait. He probably doesn’t want to see you at the moment.”

“Where is he?” Vivian asked.

Marianne didn’t try to hide it. She pointed upstairs. “He’s in the study.”

Vivian didn’t listen. She brushed past her and hurried up the stairs. Once in front of the study, she knocked.

“Grandpa, it’s me.”

There was no answer. No sound at all from the other side.

She knocked again. Still nothing.

She tried the handle—it was locked.

Tears streamed down her face as she choked out,

“Grandpa, I know I let you down again. But I really did try. I’ve worked so hard to grow the Wilson Group.”

She stood there pleading through the door, pouring her heart out.

Then, finally, the door creaked open—just a sliver.

Vivian wiped her tears, gently pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind her, locking it.

“Grandpa,” she said softly.

Mr. Wilson stood in front of his desk, holding a large calligraphy brush. He was writing one word: “Endure.”

“Don’t talk,” he said coldly.

Vivian fell silent.

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