The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 278

Chapter 278

Before long, a wave of heavy dizziness assaulted her brain.

She drifted off to sleep.

But her temperature began to spike once again.

The moment Silas felt her forehead, his brow furrowed deeply. He went into the bathroom, filled a basin with warm water, and came back to place a warm, damp towel over her forehead.

Her temperature kept climbing until Vivian was flushed as pink as a cooked shrimp.

The VIP suite had been placed under strict isolation. All deliveries had to be left at the nurses’ station, and only fully geared nurses were allowed to bring them into the room.

When Simon brought over Silas’s daily necessities, the nurses blocked him at the desk. He was completely baffled.

“What is this supposed to mean? Are you trying to lock our boss up?”

The nurse gave him a look like he was an absolute idiot.

“Who could possibly lock Mr. Sterling up? He chose to stay in there to take care of Miss Fairchild. It’s obvious you’ve never been in a relationship, have you?”

He was just asking a question-did she have to make it a personal attack?

Simon stood there, pounding a fist against his palm as he thought it over. He hadn’t realized Miss Fairchild was this sick, nor did he expect his boss to be so fiercely devoted. Should he still try to talk him out of staying?

He finally concluded that there was no point.

Once the boss made a decision, a few words from him weren’t going to change it.

Simon let out a long sigh and pulled out his phone to call Silas.

“Mr. Sterling, I dropped the supplies off. Is there anything else I can do?”

“You’ve been working for me this long, do I still need to teach you how to do your job?”

‘Ah…’

Simon froze for a second. “I meant, about you and Miss Fairchild…”

“Don’t worry about the hospital. Just keep the company running smoothly. Send the daily briefings to my email, and attend all necessary meetings in my place.”

“Understood.” Simon respectfully agreed, only able to offer one last piece of advice. “Mr. Sterling, please take care of yourself.”

By that afternoon, news of Northside’s first viral infection case had hit the headlines, urging the public to sanitize regularly and maintain good hygiene.

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10:38

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As evening approached, Vivian’s fever still hadn’t broken.

The soup they had delivered earlier had gone cold, so a fresh batch had to be sent in.

Silas sat by the bed reading his work briefs, his gaze frequently darting up to check on the sleeping

woman.

Her striking face was currently settled in soft tranquility. The unnatural pallor mixed with her high fever seemed to create a strange chemical reaction, making her skin look even more flawless and delicate.

This was the very first time he had shared a space with her without enduring a constant stream of chatter.

A subtle ripple passed through Silas’s dark, enigmatic eyes before he looked away.

At 8:00 PM.

Vivian jolted awake from a nightmare.

Her throat felt as if it were coated in ash, dry and unbearably scratchy.

There was a glass of water on the nightstand. She managed to drag it over, took a sip, and set it back down.

She had just caught her breath when her phone started ringing. She blindly answered it, leaning her head back against the pillows. “Hello,” she answered, her voice completely raspy.

“Vivian.” The man on the other end breathed a sigh of relief. “Where are you? I’m coming to see you right now.”

Vivian scanned the room. She didn’t see Silas, and it was dead silent outside the room, as if the entire

floor were deserted.

She replied faintly, “I don’t even know where I am right now. It’s fine, Vincent, don’t worry about it.”

Vincent paused for a moment. “Do you have to be so distant with me?”

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