His Exclusive Silent Bride Novels & Stories

I cried and felt blurry for some time, while trying to move out I mistakenly hit a glass vase, this startled them. "Babe come back, it's nothing". Charlotte said, but Andrew didn't listen and by the time he got to the door, I had left , with my heart broken into a million pieces. How did I get here? It seems everything and everyone had a vendetta against me. What was my offense exactly, I have seen mute people leave a more fulfilling life than I will ever dream of. Out of nowhere, a man came calling after me. Like he knew me, but he looked old, very old for me, I took to my heels, running through the hallways of the hotel after he tried pressing his lips against mine, trying to ensure that I

That made him pause. Just for a second. Then he finally looked at me…The same look. Slow. Measured. I hated how my body reacted instantly….Fear. Awareness. Something else I didn’t want to name. “She’s mine,” he said simply. The room went quiet again…The restless one let out a low whistle. “That’s new.” The third man, the quiet one, just watched me longer this time. Like he was trying to figure me out without asking. I looked down quickly…I didn’t want their attention. Rai turned back to them. “This isn’t a discussion.”

RUE “Are you out of your ever-loving mind?!” I want to scream at him, but I clamp my lips shut. I avoid his eyes, staring at the floor. I want to be a supportive wife and tell him it'll all be fine, but I find myself at a loss for words. “You're silent,” he says, I look up. “I did not marry a silent woman. I married a ferocious beast.” A smile crawls up my lips. “I was stunned into silence,”

“Marked as taken now, so I guess it’s official.” The Justice of the Peace chuckled. “It is once you kiss your bride.” I lowered my head, our gazes locking. I brushed my mouth over hers, wrapping my hand around her neck, drawing her tight to me and kissing her deeply. It was my right, after all—she was my wife. When I drew back, she opened her eyes, and I was startled at the honest gentleness of her gaze. Her smile was a genuine one and I returned it fully, dropping another swift kiss on her full lips.

Smiled. “Instead,” he said, stepping back, “I’ve asked someone else to be my bride.” My knees nearly gave way but I stood still, every cell in my body screaming. Out of the crowd, she stepped forward. Clarissa. My sister. Wearing my dress. "Liam," I breathed. "What are you doing?" He didn’t answer me. He extended his hand, to her. “Clarissa, love, come here.” And just like a rehearsed pageantry, she strode down the red carpet, a smile carved on her lips as she walked towards him, confident, calm and cruel.

She inhaled slowly, then exhaled. This was marriage, Blackmere-style. No spectacle. No witnesses that mattered. No congratulations from anyone who loved her. The wedding no one saw. And for the first time since signing her name, Elara understood the strangest part of it all: The contract hadn’t been the coldest thing. The silence was.

A place built from silence and persistence and hope and love that refused to disappear even when circumstances suggested it should. Perhaps that was why the title had always fit. The silenced bride. The relentless love. Not opposites. Not separate stories. The silence had taught them how to listen. The love had taught them how to stay. And somewhere between those two lessons they had built a life larger than either of them had ever imagined possible.

I whispered, my voice already shaking. “I’m going to take my time with you tonight,” he murmured, looking up at me with eyes darkened by desire. “No interruptions. No deadlines. No more hiding.” His fingers moved to the zipper of my dress, slowly sliding it down as if unwrapping the most precious gift. He helped me out of it, careful and gentle, until I was left in only my bridal lingerie—white lace, soft silk, all picked to drive him crazy. And clearly, it worked.

In the photograph, she looked pale and startled, like an animal caught in headlights. Bride-to-be, the caption read. She felt something inside her go quiet. The door to her bedroom opened without warning. Silas walked in, his presence filling the room instantly. He did not look at the newspaper. He did not need to. He had approved every word. He stood behind her, watching her reflection in the mirror. His eyes moved over her face slowly, assessing. Searching for defiance. For cracks. “The press is downstairs,” he said calmly. “We are having a small engagement brunch. You will wear the blue dress. You will smile. You will hold Arthur’s hand.”

She couldn't help but hold his face, kissing it again and again, smiling, "Not tacky, but so silly!" No matter how cold and ruthless he is in front of outsiders, but in front of her, he has always been a silly boy who is willing to make her happy. She really loved him. The wedding caravan slowly marched forward amidst the boiling cheers, and countless cameras were focused on this magnificent wedding. In the unnoticed another intersection, a wedding car fleet of silent driving through ...... no flowers, no cheers, the hot sun shines, quiet through a thick sense of depression. The bride and groom sitting in the car, two people face are extremely ugly.