The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 402

The two exchanged a knowing smile.

Working out naturally required activewear. Since Vivian hadn't brought a change of clothes, Old Mr. Sterling told her to check the upstairs bedroom. "We didn't throw away his old clothes. Might be something you can wear."

"..."

After sitting there for so many years, wouldn't they be moldy?

As if reading her mind, Old Mr. Sterling rolled his eyes. "The housekeeper washes them regularly. Did you think we were as sloppy as you young people?"

"...Since when are we sloppy?"

"Enough talking. Go find something. It's in the closet of the second room on the left."

Vivian agreed and headed upstairs.

The room was mostly used for storage, filled with Silas's belongings. Trophies and awards were neatly arranged on the shelves, far more numerous than what she had seen in his current room.

She browsed casually before turning to the wardrobe.

She opened the doors.

True to Old Mr. Sterling's word, the housekeeper clearly maintained them. A fresh scent of laundry detergent wafted out immediately. Rummaging through, she actually found a set of gray casual sweats that seemed to fit.

Judging by the style, they were likely from his high school days.

Vivian held them up against her body. They would do.

Struck by a sudden burst of inspiration, she pulled out her phone, struck a pose, and snapped two photos, firing them off to Silas.

Locking her screen, she quickly changed into the outfit.

Just as she was about to head downstairs, she noticed a vintage oak cabinet tucked in the corner. Her pupils constricted slightly.

Downstairs.

Old Mr. Sterling was in high spirits, holding a cup of tea by the pond as he watched the koi fish.

George brought out his coat and draped it over his shoulders, smiling. "Your mood has improved significantly with Vivian here. Why don't we just have her move in?"

"What do you know?" Old Mr. Sterling chuckled, his tone a mix of admiration and regret. "Once their wings harden, they have to fly. Young people shouldn't be cooped up with an old man all day. It drains all the energy out of them."

Vivian didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I'm not a kid. Can you stop scolding me like one?"

"Hmph, even if you were fifty, you'd still be a kid to me!"

"..."

While that was technically true, this was exhausting.

Panting, Vivian suddenly bolted for a nearby bench and collapsed onto it. "I don't care, I need a break! If you're going to be a dictator, you might as well just beat me to death."

Old Mr. Sterling was speechless.

He looked at Vivian, then turned to George.

"Do you see this? What do you call this?"

George bowed his head slightly. "Sir, what is it called?"

Old Mr. Sterling roared, "Throwing in the towel without a shred of perseverance!"