The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 150

Chapter 150

Harboring these suspicions, Vivian spent the entire breakfast covertly assessing the man sitting across from her. Unfortunately, she didn’t spot anything definitively out of the ordinary.

Instead, it was Grandpa who caught her staring, his sharp eyes crinkling with sheer

amusement.

After breakfast, Silas headed out first.

Grandpa immediately pulled Vivian aside.

“Vivian, my girl. Are you wondering if Silas’s eyes can still be cured?”

“Can they?”

“No.”

“…”

Grandpa cast a glance out toward the courtyard. Silas was currently on the phone and hadn’t left yet.

“The doctors said back then that the nerves in his eyes had completely died. The chances of recovery are virtually nonexistent. Why else do you think that Gifford girl rejected him?”

Vivian followed his gaze. The man standing there was undeniably exceptional. Both in terms of looks and aura, he was absolutely top-tier.

“Grace rejected him solely because of his eyes?”

Grandpa let out a cold snort. “What else could it be?”

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that girl. She was arrogant to a fault, practically treating herself

like royalty.

“Just relax and follow the path Grandpa pointed out to you. If he can be cured, great. If he can’t, it’s even better for you. You won’t have to worry about him catching the eye of other / women.”

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By the time Vivian walked outside, Silas had just finished his call.

Simon was probably stuck in traffic, as he hadn’t arrived yet.

“Done conspiring?”

His cold, detached voice was laced with obvious mockery. Whether it was his own grandfather or his wife, this man showed zero mercy.

Vivian stared into his eyes for a long moment, ultimately concluding that she was just

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cverthinking things.

If this man could actually see, there was no telling how much more arrogant he would be than he already was.

“We weren’t conspiring about anything.”

She walked up beside him, her gaze innocent and bright. “Did Simon get held up by something else? Should I drive you?”

The words had barely left her mouth when a black Mercedes rolled through the gates.

Simon rolled down the window, grinning sheepishly.

“Sorry, Mr. Sterling. Hit a bit of traffic on the way. Does Miss Fairchild need a ride since it’s on the way?”

Vivian stole a glance at Silas. If she dared to say yes, this man would probably chop her into pieces and make soup out of her.

“No need,” she said with a smile. “Your boss has been waiting for you for a while now. Doesn’t he have a morning meeting? Get going.”

“Right away.”

Simon hopped out and respectfully opened the rear door.

Vivian stood with her hands clasped behind her back, watching the man duck into the car. She pulled one hand free, spread her fingers, and gave him a little wave.

Tilting her head, she said, “Bye. Come home early tonight.”

The man merely lifted an eyelid, his gaze flat and utterly indifferent.

The car pulled away, kicking up a faint layer of dust in its wake.

Vivian watched the vehicle disappear into the distance, the playful expression vanishing entirely from her face. She let out a sudden, inexplicable scoff, turned around, and got into

her own car.

Arriving at the company, she drove straight into the underground parking garage.

Vivian had just parked when a familiar woman stepped directly into her line of sight.

She raised an eyebrow and stepped out of the car.

“What, waiting specifically for me?”

Amara Fairchild looked awful, sporting two heavy dark circles under her eyes. “Vivian, what the hell is it going to take for you to stay away from Jonah?”

“Oh?” Vivian’s tone was deliberately dramatic, dripping with the relish of a spectator watching a trainwreck. “From the sound of it, it seems Amara has been tossed aside by Mr. Granger…”

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Amara’s face cycled rapidly between ghost-white and furious red. Humiliated and enraged,

she raised her hand to strike.

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