The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 532

Before this, Vivian had never met anyone with such a toxic mouth. His insults weren't even targeted; he was equally ruthless to everyone.

Soon, Silas finished making breakfast. It was an open-faced sandwich that looked incredibly appetizing.

The drink was freshly blended oat milk, steaming hot.

"Silas."

Vivian took a huge bite, her cheeks puffing out. "If you ever go bankrupt, we should open a tiny catering studio. You can be the chef. What do you think?"

Silas glanced at her, pulled a tissue from the dispenser, and handed it over.

Having sauce smeared all over her mouth wasn't exactly a sophisticated look.

"And what will you do?"

"My job will be much harder than yours."

Vivian wiped her mouth and looked up thoughtfully. "For example, I'll handle the money. I'll also encourage you, keep you company, and make you laugh... A chef's mood is crucial to the quality of the food. You should know that."

Silas hummed in response. "That sounds so exhausting. What if you die from overwork?"

"..."

He couldn't say two nice words to save his life. Whatever. She wasn't going to talk to him anymore.

"Ah."

She swallowed contentedly. "This is really good."

In contrast, the man sitting across from her was far more elegant. He cut his food with a knife and fork, taking slow, deliberate bites. Watching him eat was like watching a visually pleasing, high-end film.

The only downside was that once he finished, he told her to wash the dishes.

Vivian leaned back in her chair, finally remembering to ask, "Where's Martha?"

"The farmer's market."

"Oh."

"Don't think about slacking off. Division of labor is only fair. Go wash them."

Silas saw right through her. His dark gaze carried a faint warning, as if there would be consequences if she refused.

Vivian pouted, trudged slowly into the kitchen, found the rubber gloves, and started cleaning up.

After washing the dishes, she went upstairs to find the man standing in front of his closet, buttoning his dress shirt. His phone was pinned between his ear and his shoulder as he took a call.

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