The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 98

Chapter 98

Vivian couldn’t help but raise her hand to touch her forehead, still feeling the lingering warmth of his fingertips.

Her probing gaze fell on the man. He ate slowly and elegantly, every frame looking like an exquisite oil painting, unbelievably handsome.

Blind?

Did he have a third eye or something?

Vivian felt a bit frustrated and deliberately didn’t put food on his plate, wanting to see how he managed to eat.

Silas clearly hadn’t planned on relying on her anyway. His long fingers traced the edge of the tableware, likely memorizing the position of each dish.

Even this simple action made him look absolutely appetizing.

Vivian stared at him and suddenly chuckled.

This marriage seemed like a pretty good deal for her.

After dinner, Vivian followed him upstairs.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice when the man ahead stopped, and she bumped squarely

into a solid wall of muscle.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?”

Silas turned to look at her, a slight frown on his face. “Didn’t Mrs. Gable prepare a room for you?”

“I’m not a guest, why should Mrs. Gable prepare a room for me?”

They were both wearing slippers, making their height difference especially apparent. Vivian had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. “I want to sleep with you.”

The man scoffed coldly. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Since your brain seems a bit slow, Miss Fairchild, let me remind you once more: this marriage is just a charade for both of us. Don’t take the act too seriously.”

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Chapter 98

With that, he turned and went into the master bedroom.

Watching the closed door, a slow smile curved Vivian’s lips.

Silas Sterling… wasn’t as cold as he appeared.

That afternoon, Mrs. Gable had shown her all the rooms, and she knew one of them had been

used by Grace Gifford. She would never stay there. Even if she did, she’d throw out

everything inside first.

Pivoting on her heel, Vivian went to another room.

She slept surprisingly well.

She was a light sleeper, and the moment she heard tires rolling into the yard, her eyes snapped open.

As a multi-talented assistant, Simon wasn’t just responsible for Silas’s work schedule but also his daily life.

He arrived on time every morning to pick out Silas’s clothes and match his ties.

He had even taken a week-long styling course just for this.

Vivian threw on some clothes and stepped out, bumping right into Simon at the door.

“Miss Fairchild… morning.”

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