The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 466

Silas immediately rushed Vivian to the hospital. She remained unconscious throughout the entire night, her fever stubbornly refusing to break despite the IV drip, prompting the doctors to administer an additional shot.

By seven o'clock the next morning, Cynthia's call finally came through.

"Silas, do you have any respect for me as your mother at all?"

"Does respecting you mean I have to let you act like a lunatic?"

"A lunatic?"

Cynthia scoffed harshly. "Where is she?"

"She's with me."

Silas glanced at the pale woman in the hospital bed, then stood and walked over to the window. "Don't bother asking. I won't be sending her back."

"You—!"

Cynthia was absolutely furious, spitting out a string of bitter laughs.

"Your wings have certainly grown strong. Let me ask you, what exactly is wrong with me teaching your wife some basic etiquette and respect?"

Silas was genuinely speechless.

He let out a dry, mocking laugh.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he said, "Ms. Gifford, I told you when I dropped her off not to cross the line. Furthermore, she isn't exactly brave, yet you not only crossed every possible line, you locked a sick woman in a freezing storeroom... Do you honestly think you're some untouchable royalty who can play god with other people's lives?"

"...That is complete nonsense!"

Cynthia was trembling with rage.

But the haughty pride of a wealthy heiress was baked into her bones. She was talking to her own son; why should she hold back?

"You really are something else! You'd speak to your own mother this way over some outsider? She stayed at my manor for three days, and we shared the same meals under the same roof! In what universe did I mistreat her?!"

"It's 2025. We're far past the era where eating at your table is considered a divine blessing. And she is my wife, not an outsider."

The line fell dead silent. The quiet was so absolute it was deafening.

After a long time, Cynthia's voice came through, thick with suppressed breathing. "Silas, are you seriously going to turn against me again over her?"

"Mother."

Silas stared out the window, his voice turning somber and hollow. "I had hoped that after I left everything behind to return to the country and live with Grandpa, you might have finally reflected on why I did it."

With that, he hung up.

"Silas..."

Her voice was as raspy as sandpaper. She swallowed hard, her throat burning like it was on fire.

The man set his laptop aside and looked up. With only his eyes visible, his dark gaze appeared even more bottomless and intense.

"Do you want water?"

Vivian blinked in confirmation.

Silas brought the cup over, complete with a straw. The water was the perfect, soothing temperature.

Vivian drained half the cup in one go. Her very first sentence carried a hint of annoyance. "Why are you wearing a mask?"

"You're highly contagious."

"You're repulsed by me."

"If I get sick, who's going to wait on you hand and foot?"

"...Oh." That was a fair point.

Vivian stole a quiet glance at him and mumbled, "But I can't see your face, and that makes me unhappy."