The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 456

She muttered a complaint and pulled free.

Rubbing her cheeks, she said, "She is your mother, after all. I have to give her some face. If I just ran away... wouldn't she accuse me of being unfilial?"

Cynthia was undoubtedly overbearing. Due to her upbringing, she even carried a bit of... the archaic stubbornness typical of old-money aristocratic families.

But Silas didn't believe for a second that Vivian was the type to sit still and get bullied.

"Get out."

He pushed his door open, stepped out, and popped the trunk to grab her luggage.

The two walked through the entrance together. Cynthia sat gracefully in the courtyard gazebo, sipping tea.

Despite the freezing weather, she wore only a white, cinched-waist dress draped with a designer shawl. Her hair was pulled back into a flawless chignon, projecting the absolute picture of a dignified society matriarch.

Silas set the suitcase aside and motioned for a maid to take it inside.

"Mom, I brought Vivian."

Vivian wore heels today, paired with a long black dress and a trench coat. She stood there, looking incredibly elegant.

She gave a slight nod and greeted, "Mom."

Cynthia unhurriedly lowered her European-style teacup.

Looking up, she scanned Vivian from head to toe.

Seeing her again, Cynthia had to admit the woman was stunning. But it was precisely because she looked too good, combined with that sophisticated aura, that made Cynthia certain she was bad news.

She gave a tight smile. "You two certainly took your time. Anyone else would have been too ashamed to make me wait."

On the surface, it sounded harmless enough, but upon closer inspection, the words were dripping with intense dissatisfaction.

Cynthia had held onto her patience and badgered them for days—which was already a record for her.

Before Vivian could speak, Cynthia stood up.

During their previous encounter, Cynthia had worn heels, which easily masked her true height.

Today, she was in flats.

Comparing them now, Vivian realized the older woman was likely around five foot seven.

Vivian let go of his hand, her lowered gaze looking a little... pitiful.

Silas didn't know how much of this was an act, but a sigh still slipped through his heart. His eyes wrapped around her like warm water. "You're a smart woman. Think about how cleverly you schemed against me. This is just my mother. Make her like you, alright?"

"I don't have that kind of confidence."

Vivian mumbled the words so softly that she wasn't sure if he even heard them. She took a deep breath, looking like a soldier marching to her doom. "Fine, I'm going in!"

"..."

Silas stood at the entrance for a long time, listening to the absolute silence inside.

His brow furrowed slightly. The hand resting at his side clenched into a fist before he turned and walked away.

Upstairs, Cynthia was indeed showing Vivian to her room.

Except this room... was a little hard to describe.

The lighting was terrible, it was incredibly cramped, and it was probably worse than a guest room in an average middle-class house. Even the lightbulb was broken.