บททั้งหมดของ The Womanizer's Mute Wife : บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

GENESIS"You were so good today—way better than me and Calista," Stacy said, glancing down at me with a grin. Her arm was slung around my shoulders as we made our way toward the studio doors after class.My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and before I could do anything, Calista jumped in. "Hey! I wasn’t that bad!" she huffed, folding her arms across her chest in an exaggerated pout. I looked at her, worried they might think I believed I was better than them. I reached for her arm just as Stacy turned me around gently."Don’t mind her," she said with a playful eye-roll before turning to Calista. "Nobody said you were bad. Genesis was just really good today.”Calista's pout melted into a smile. “I know, I know—I was just teasing.” She looked at me with affection. “Our little cutie killed it today.”She ruffled her hand through my hair, and I laughed, pushing her hand away.We were only a few steps from the exit when Stacy reached for the door—but then a voice called my name from behin

Revelation slowly stepped back, her eyes locked on Damon. His expression was unreadable, cold, like he was dissecting her with his stare. For a few tense seconds, neither of them said anything. She scanned his face, trying to guess if he’d figured her out—if he knew who she really was and why she’d truly been brought here.“You don’t need to analyze me, kitten,” he said coolly. “I know you’ve got something up your sleeve. And I’ll figure it out soon enough.”His voice was low and biting, each word pushing her back like a force of wind. But then she stopped retreating, standing her ground, eyes blazing as the space between them disappeared until they were almost touching.A flicker of relief sparked inside her—he didn’t know yet. But it still irritated her. Damon was watching her too closely, suspecting too much. If he kept sniffing around, she’d never get the chance to meet with her contact. He was sand in the gears of her plans.She took a deep breath, jaw tightening. “I don’t know w

Kieran, Knight—leaned against the frame of the bee room door. About four maids were inside, clothes and shoes scattered across the floor like a storm had passed. They were all gathered around Genesis, who stood in front of the large mirror, flushed and flustered as the women fussed over her.“You look so gorgeous,” one of the maids cooed, brushing through Genesis’s long hair. Her cheeks went red, unaware that another set of eyes was already locked onto her from the doorway.“I wonder how the boss is going to react when he sees you,” another giggled.Genesis glanced down at herself, uneasy. The dress was revealing—dangerously so. It clung to her like a second skin, short, tight, and shimmering black. It hugged every curve, dipped low at the chest, and rode high up her thighs. Thin straps crossed her back, and a slit ran up one leg, revealing more skin with each shift in movement.“What do you think he’ll do? Rip it off?”Her ears burned as laughter bubbled around her. But Knight wasn’t

GENESIS "It's going to be fine, princess. It's time the world knew who you really are," Kieran said with a smile, his large hand squeezing my thigh. I smiled back at him, even though nerves twisted inside me. I kept biting my bottom lip, staring out the window while he gently stroked the skin on my neck, his finger brushing the collar fastened there.Kieran had told me it was time to take back what was mine, my father’s company. Time to silence the rumors that I’d been given to him in marriage when I was little, after my dad died. Time to show them that I was Genesis Esther Caldwell.I was scared. Scared the world would want answers about what happened to me—where I really was all those years. But Kieran said we’d play into my stepmother’s lie, the one she told everyone: that I’d been sent abroad to study.So now, here we were.Heading to—honestly, I didn’t even know. He’d said we were going to a press conference. I had no idea what that meant, so he explained it in the car using sim

“...This is highly unacceptable. You don’t just grab someone off the street, drag them down here, and keep them in this filthy—filthy—place!” Carmella Johnson, the reporter who’d been snatched right outside her house, squirmed in her restraints and glared at the men around her like they were roaches in her apartment.“Can someone shut her up? I can’t take it anymore,” Rico muttered, retreating to the far side of the dingy white room.He hadn’t even said it quietly.Carmella whipped her head toward him and shot him the nastiest look she could summon—one that could peel paint off a wall.Leonardo stepped forward.She turned her eyes to him, slowly. He towered over her, arms crossed—bulging muscle on full display. His tattoos were a mess of skulls and... whatever else, but it was the one crawling from his jaw to his neck and vanishing beneath his shirt that made her squint. Creepy.But she didn’t flinch. Not even a blink. She’d seen worse. Okay, maybe not this bad, but she was a crime re