Chapter 159

The morning had barely begun when Adrian arrived on set, only to discover Vivian was sick. His focus shattered, he stumbled through scenes he normally aced in one take. By noon, he hadn’t touched his own lunch, too busy packing something light and nutritious for her.

She stretched toward the door, but a glance in the mirror froze her. Her face—once elegant and refined—was puffy, the faint outline of a slap still visible. It felt like a brand of shame. The thought of Sebastian seeing her like this made her chest constrict.

Her fingers hovered over the blanket before she pulled it tighter around herself. Instead of opening the door, she sent him a quick text: "I’m okay, just exhausted. Not up for visitors. You should go back."

Outside, Sebastian frowned at the message. The clipped tone only deepened his concern.

He stared at the door, debating whether to push further, when a voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned to see Isabella at the top of the stairs, cheeks flushed from the climb. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her jacket sleeves rolled up haphazardly, and walked toward him.

"Perfect timing!" he exclaimed, relief softening his expression. "I brought lunch for Vivian, but she says she’s too weak to get up. Could you take it in for me?"

Isabella hesitated, a faint blush coloring her cheeks before she nodded. "Of course."

Sebastian handed her the bag with a grateful smile, then turned back toward his room, his mood noticeably lighter.

Isabella steadied herself and knocked softly. "Vivian, it’s Isabella."

Before the door could open, Ethan appeared from the opposite hallway, arms laden with bags.

Isabella offered him a polite smile. "You’re Mr. Blackwood’s assistant, right?"

"That’s correct. Ethan Caldwell," he replied with a courteous nod.

"Isabella Thornton," she introduced herself, awkwardly recalling the whispers from last night.

Vivian opened the door just as they finished exchanging pleasantries. Her gaze flicked between them, assessing the scene.

Ethan, who had been Adrian’s assistant for years, was usually a quiet presence—barely noticeable. But up close, he was surprisingly striking, with sharp, refined features.

Isabella, in contrast, had a bold, arresting beauty, her long hair swept into a high ponytail, eyes bright and expressive.

Her vibrant energy clashed intriguingly with Ethan’s composed, understated aura.

Isabella lifted the lunch bag Sebastian had given her, shaking it slightly. "Sebastian sent this for you."

"This is from Mr. Blackwood," Ethan stepped forward, presenting his own bag. "Along with some ointment."

Before Vivian could respond, he added smoothly, "The ointment was overnighted to reduce swelling quickly. Mr. Blackwood is concerned about your on-camera appearance. He takes your career very seriously."

A flicker of guilt crossed Ethan’s face as he recalled Adrian’s instructions—just deliver it, no unnecessary explanations.

But he couldn’t help himself.

Not when Vivian looked like this.