The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 367

Vivian pouted, sweeping her gaze across the hospital bed. She had assumed his wound was perfectly protected, but it wasn't. Blood stained the edge of his pillow.

She pressed her lips together, unable to pinpoint the exact emotion twisting in her chest.

Who knew what Silas was doing in the bathroom, but it took him ages to finally emerge.

She had to admit, Simon was practically a mind reader when it came to his boss's tastes. The outfit looked custom-tailored for him—a pitch-black dress shirt paired with matching slacks. He looked utterly untouchable and devastatingly aristocratic.

Looking like that, who would ever guess he was a patient?

Right.

This was Silas Sterling.

The kind of man who would act like absolutely nothing was wrong even if the sky were falling.

He walked toward her, meeting her gaze, and climbed straight back into bed. Because of the injury to his shoulder, any slight movement pulled at the stitches. He leaned back against the headboard, his complexion noticeably pale.

A few seconds later, Vivian circled to the other side and crawled into the bed.

She lay down, wrapping her arms securely around his uninjured arm.

Silas didn't push her away, nor did he make any move to reciprocate.

"Silas." She stared up at him, her eyes bright and shining. Facing the window, the reflection in her clear eyes was remarkably sharp. "Were you terrified something would happen to me? Is that why you were hiding in the shadows, waiting to save me the exact second that guy showed up?"

Honestly, the question didn't even need an answer.

The outcome was the best answer of all.

Silas met her gaze and countered with a question of his own. "When that man lunged with the knife, why didn't you dodge?"

Or rather, she had shoved him out of the way.

She had been in his arms at the time. She could have easily dodged it.

"I... panicked in the heat of the moment." Vivian put on a distressed face, her eyes brimming with regret and guilt. "I never expected you'd be the one taking a knife for me. I promise, okay? If there's a next time, I'll be the one protecting you!"

"You want there to be a next time?"

Silas scoffed coldly. "Next time, I can't guarantee I'll be lucky enough to survive."

Silas stared back up at the ceiling, letting out a breath of complete resignation.

This woman was clearly sent to be his karmic retribution.

An hour later, Vivian's restless sleeping habits finally caused her to roll over to the other side of the bed.

Silas slid out of bed, a sharp twinge of pain flaring from his wound as he moved. He didn't even furrow a brow. Grabbing his phone, he walked toward the door.

Simon, who had been waiting on a chair in the hall, immediately shot to his feet when he saw him.

"Boss."

"Report."

"The second beating Harrison took was indeed Jonah Granger's doing. However, Richard Fowler couldn't find a shred of evidence linking Jonah to it, so he placed the entirety of the blame squarely on Miss Fairchild's shoulders."

"He hired that hitman with the explicit goal of assaulting Miss Fairchild and securing compromising photos and videos..."

For a woman, if those kinds of materials were leaked to the public, her life would essentially be over.