The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 427

Once they settled into the new hotel, Vivian felt sticky and uncomfortable, so she immediately went to take a shower. When she came out, Silas had just finished a phone call. Seeing her, he said, "Rest here by yourself for a bit. I need to head out."

"Where are you going?"

"I have business to attend to."

"What kind of business? You're not sneaking off to see other women, are you?"

Silas shot her a sidelong glance, entirely unwilling to dignify such a ridiculous question with a response, and strode toward the door.

Vivian called out to his retreating back, "You can see other women if you want, but don't you dare bring their perfume back with you!"

...

The door clicked shut.

Vivian's lips curled into a smirk. She collapsed back onto the sofa and opened a candy-crushing game on her phone.

Staying in a luxurious suite with panoramic views always put her in a good mood. Just lifting her eyes gave her a breathtaking sweep of Bayport Harbor.

After playing for a bit, she got bored and casually opened iMessage.

Right on cue, a message popped up from a blank profile picture.

[I've left.]

Vivian paused, her slender fingers tapping out two words on the screen: *Stay safe.*

Then, she deleted the chat history entirely.

She lounged around in a hazy daze until the afternoon. Finally, she heard a noise at the door. Her eyebrows shot up, and she skipped over cheerfully to open it. "How did you—"

Before the words could leave her mouth, a large hand clamped violently around her throat. The man forced her back two rapid steps, slamming her into the wall next to the door with a deafening crash.

"I'll ask you one more time. Where the hell is Darcy!"

"Cough..."

Vivian was completely caught off guard. Even though Marcus wasn't using his full strength, it was enough to cut off her air. Within seconds, her face flushed crimson, and she couldn't make a sound.

A couple walking past down the corridor froze in horror at the scene, unsure whether to intervene or call the cops.

Marcus snapped his head toward them, his voice roaring like an enraged lion.

Silas shook out his hand, his movements clean, sharp, and ruthless.

—Naturally, Vivian was in no position to admire the view.

She slumped against the wall, gasping violently for air, unable to suppress a few dry heaves.

Silas stepped silently in front of her. His dark, smoldering gaze locked onto Marcus. "What do you think you're doing?"

The punch had packed enough force to make even a man of Marcus's stature stagger backward. He stabilized himself and glared back, his eyes practically burning with hellfire. "Back off!"

Silas didn't move an inch. Even the look in his eyes remained entirely static.

"Touch one more hair on her head. I dare you."

Marcus swiped his thumb across the corner of his mouth. Only then did Vivian notice he was bleeding. The cold, ruthless sneer on his face made him look like a wild beast pushed past its breaking point. "You're awfully confident. But you'd do well to remember whose territory you're standing on."

The tension was explosive, ready to ignite at the slightest spark.

Finally, Silas's brow furrowed in disdain.