The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 363

Vivian held her breath instantly. Before she could react, the bedroom door clicked open. She swiftly ducked down by the headboard, finding a blind spot where she wouldn't be immediately seen.

But it only bought her a fleeting moment.

A man stepped inside quickly, his predatory instincts locking onto her location in seconds.

Vivian scrambled to make a run for it, but he lunged, seizing her wrist with a crushing grip that held zero mercy.

"Silas—"

Her scream had barely torn from her throat when the man snatched her phone and hurled it across the room.

"Silas? I had it checked out. He's out of state and can't do a damn thing to help you right now. Even if you died right here, he wouldn't know until your corpse was cold!"

Vivian's breathing grew erratic as she forced herself to look at his face.

The man wore a cap and a mask that obscured most of his features, leaving only a pair of sinister, shadowed eyes visible.

"Make one more sound, and I'll kill you right now!"

His grim voice dripped with menace. His hand clamped down on her shoulder, pinning her completely.

His technique was flawless. It was obvious he was professionally trained.

Vivian's scalp prickled, her eyes wide with terror.

"Who sent you? However much he's paying you, I'll double it."

"Heh." The man let out a cold laugh, casually tossing her down hard against the mattress. "Miss Fairchild is certainly generous. But there are rules in this business. Once I take the money, I don't betray the client. If you cooperate, I promise you'll keep your life. But if you don't..."

The implication was crystal clear.

If she fought back, all bets were off.

He started to strip off his clothes.

The warmth drained from Vivian's eyes. This was a private estate with detached villas. There was no one around... Even if she screamed until her throat bled, nobody would come to save her.

Just as the man's weight pressed down on her again, a deafening crash echoed through the room!

The man was kicked violently to the floor.

Vivian's trembling gaze shot toward the doorway. There stood Silas.

But before relief could wash over her, the intruder shot back to his feet.

The moment he ripped the bedroom door open, he collided heavily with a wall of bodyguards rushing up the stairs.

"Grab him!" Simon ordered sharply.

No matter how skilled the attacker was, he couldn't fight off an entire squad. Within seconds, the man was slammed against the wall and pinned.

Inside the bedroom, half of Silas's crisp white shirt was soaked through. The suffocating, metallic scent of blood saturated the air.

Vivian froze, staring at him in a daze of guilt.

"You're... hurt."

Silas leveled a frigid gaze at her.

"Uh... I'm so sorry. I didn't do it on purpose. It was just a reflex, you know?"

In the chaos, she had seen the glint of the knife and the man's lethal thrust, so she had instinctively yanked Silas toward her.

"Thanks to you. If you hadn't pulled me, neither of us would have a scratch."

Vivian rubbed her nose, thoroughly consumed by guilt.