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I won't be an Understanding Wife

Penulis: Garnet
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-07-20 20:25:43

Wren

I stared out at the skyline through the floor-to-ceiling glass, watching a distant crane pulse red against the dark, while my back remained resolutely turned to the rest of the room. I didn't dare close my eyes. I was too busy listening.

Behind me, the mattress groaned under a familiar weight. The distinct, heavy scent of expensive whiskey drifted over the sheets as Leander settled into his side of the bed.

Usually, this was the part where the contract blurred.

He would lie down, his l
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  • Signed In Silence    Home

    Wren The rumble of the private jet’s engines smoothed out into a quiet as we cut through the cloud cover on our final approach into Boston. By the time the wheels touched down at sunrise, the storm that had battered all night had completely dissolved. I had spent the last hour of the flight half-asleep against Leander’s shoulder, lulled by the vibration of the cabin and the steady, grounding rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. When the seatbelt sign chimed, signaling our arrival, I had reluctantly pulled away, smoothing down my wrinkled blouse and feeling a strange, hollow chill where his body heat had been. I fully expected our black town car to take us straight back to the penthouse in to drop us into our respective wings so we could collapse after seventy-two hours of unrelenting adrenaline. Instead, Leander leaned forward in the leather passenger seat, speaking quietly to the driver before looking back at me with a subtle, unreadable glint in his dark gray eyes.

  • Signed In Silence    My Safe Space

    WrenLeander brought me home after the little stunt Raphael pulled. Everything had settled back to how it was. It was the first time my firm was fully in session. In as much as I was so giddy for what the start holds, a part of me felt nervous. Dr. Rosina Blay, no relation to Raphael, though the shared name felt like an uncomfortable ghost hanging over the room... sat across from us, her trembling hands wrapped tightly around a paper cup of lukewarm water. She was the Chief Research Officer for a pharmaceutical giant, and thirty minutes ago, she had been ready to walk out the door, paralyzed by the fear that exposing her company’s rigged clinical trials would utterly destroy her life. "They will bury me, Mrs. Voss," Dr. Blay whispered, her voice cracking as she stared blankly at the glowing tablet in front of her. "They have forty corporate lawyers. They will freeze my accounts. They will paint me as a disgruntled employee suffering from a psychological breakdown." I leaned forwar

  • Signed In Silence    Wrong Bait

    Wren The peaceful sanctuary of the bookstore shattered precisely hours later. It was ten in the morning on Thursday. I was standing in the center of Horizon’s raw construction site. Currently a massive, historic granite building downtown with exposed brick walls, towering arched windows, and concrete floors littered with architectural blueprints and steel framing. My firm was two weeks away from our official opening, but the air inside smelled like fresh paint and sawdust. "Wren! You need to see this!" My lead paralegal, Miracle, came running across the dusty floor, her heels clicking loudly against the concrete as she handed me a tablet. On the screen was a live broadcast from the City Zoning Commission. Standing behind a podium, wearing a sharp, oily blue suit with a silver tie, was Raphael. My hands tightened around the edges of the tablet until my knuckles turned white. "As a concerned civic investor," Raphael’s smooth, arrogant voice boomed through the tablet speakers, a

  • Signed In Silence    Sweet Listener

    Wren By three in the afternoon the next day, Jose’s strategy had worked like a charm. The press had seized on the "administrative oversight" narrative, painting Uncle Jose as a well-meaning executive who had mishandled inter-company paperwork. The board’s emergency meeting was pushed back, the stock stabilized, and my legal team was given a clean 48-hour window to release our independent financial audit to the press. But the atmosphere inside the penthouse was suffused with heavy, suffocating tension. Leander had been on conference calls since dawn, his voice low and dangerous as he tore through the internal security teams trying to find the source of the server leak. Around four o'clock, as I was sitting at the dining table reviewing Horizon's lease contracts, Leander walked out of his private study. He had changed into a dark charcoal wool sweater and black trousers, holding a pair of heavy leather car keys in his hand. "Get your coat," he stated softly. I looked up, blinking

  • Signed In Silence    Again ?

    Wren A few minutes after we left the penthouse, we finally arrived at where Damien said was the right spot. I was a bit taken aback by the fact that someone like him knew a place like this. It was buzzing just as I wanted. And looking around, everyone was busily either eating or just being themselves. I felt my heart settle. Leander looked wildly, absurdly out of place. He had ditched his tie and unbuttoned his crisp white collar, but his dark trousers and tailored coat practically screamed high finance. Yet, as the elderly Italian hostess led us to a small, cramped booth near the back, Leander didn't complain once. He slid his massive frame into the booth, his long legs brushing against mine under the narrow table. Every time his knee touched mine, a sharp static charge shot up my spine. "You've been here before?" Leander asked, his gray eyes tracking the frantic movements of the waiters carrying towering plates of pasta. "Not really, but my mother used to bring me he

  • Signed In Silence    His Smile ☺️

    Wren The memory of Uncle Jose’s visit three nights ago kept playing in the back of my mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard I tried to focus on the cold reality in front of me. It was eight in the evening when the private elevator chimed, echoing through the penthouse’s vast. Leander hadn’t even looked up from his tablet, sitting rigid at the head of the dark dining table. His long, calloused thumb mechanically tapped the edge of the screen. He was drowning in whwtever he was working on, his sharp face shadowed by the blue light of the display, looking every bit the emotionless titan the media painted him to be. Then the elevator doors slid open, and the cold, suffocating air of the suite seemed to warm up instantly. "Leander! My boy, look at you—you’re starving yourself again! Do you ever turn those damn screens off?" Uncle Jose walked in carrying a heavy bag, his tailored charcoal wool coat unbuttoned and dripping slightly from the downpour outside. His silvered hair w

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