Novel & Cerita The Silent Wife Drama

She felt stupid. She felt painfully, painfully alone. And the worst part? Her husband sat beside her like a stone. His silence was permission. His silence was agreement. His silence was betrayal. She pressed her fingers against the table, trying to anchor herself. The edges of her vision shimmered, but she blinked hard, refusing to let a single tear fall here. Not in front of them. Not now. Camilla set down her glass, eyes settling on Sienna like she was something rotten at the bottom of her shoe.

Inder is now in his study, his hands can be seen busy putting signatures on white sheets of paper that can earn hundreds of millions of money. His face looked serious reading sheet after piece of precious paper, the activity took place two hours ago. Soon Inder's gaze was diverted to the door leaf that suddenly opened, showing the figure of a beautiful girl who came in her nightdress, who else if not his wife, Amayra. Inder frowned in confusion at his wife's expression at this time, looking tired, annoyed and frustrated. It was obvious by looking at the condition of his disheveled hair and gloomy countenance.

Sydney, Australia. The city glittered beneath the evening sky. Inside a modern apartment overlooking the harbor, Stephen Wao stared at his phone. It had rung seventeen times in the last three hours. Colleagues. Relatives. Former friends. Even people he hadn't spoken to in years. The latest message flashed across the screen. IS IT TRUE YOUR WIFE IS CONNECTED TO THE NAKURU CASE? Stephen closed his eyes. Slowly. Painfully. For twenty-six years, he and Mercy had lived with secrets.

The portraits watched. The door clicked shut behind her. For a long minute I just stood there. Listening to the silence. To the faint wind outside the tall windows. To the sound of my own breathing, too loud, too uneven in a house meant for a family. Then I sank onto the couch. Put my head in my hands. The leather was cold. Lyara’s favorite spot used to be this couch. Marriage. Lila said marriage like it was a solution. Like saying ‘I do’ would fix debt. Would fix Cross Industries. Would fix me.

Pinned down, I could only raise my head to lock eyes with Krystal as blood trailed along my lips. “Krystal, you promised to love and protect me for so long as we shall live. Is this what your word is worth?” Keeping her face deadpan, Krystal said callously, “You got it coming for attacking your father-in-law and talking smack about your wife.” With Krystal speaking up, the Markham extended family echoed her sentiment. “It’s about time. He needs to be kept on a tight leash, so he knows his place. Who does he think he is?”

"You walked away. Which means you finally figured out what actually matters." "I figured out too late," Silas said. "That's not the same as actually understanding." Julian was quiet for a moment. Then: "She's something, isn't she? Your wife. The way she moves through the boardroom like she owns it. The way every single investor in that room hangs on her next word." Silas felt something violent surge through his chest. He stood up abruptly, his hand clenching into a fist. "Don't," he said quietly. "Don't even look at her like that."

Brandon's management team, the bodyguards, and that arrogant property manager were all instantly pinned to the ground, crying and wailing. Cassie watched the dark gun barrels aimed at her and finally broke down completely. She screamed at me hysterically, "Arthur! You can't do this to me! I'm your wife! I was wrong! I was really wrong! Make them let me go! Please! Don't you love me? You've sacrificed so much for me. You can't be this heartless!" However, the only response she got was the soldiers coldly pulling her arms behind her back and binding them tightly with restraints. Her precious designer dress was pulled out of shape. Her carefully styled hair hung in disheveled tangles, making he

My head swinging back and forth like I was watching a tennis match. Sienna sat on the white leather sofa. Both hands resting on her belly. Perfectly calm. The silence stretched. I counted. Seventeen seconds before Flynn moved. He set down his briefcase with careful precision. Loosened his tie. Buying time. "Sienna." His voice was measured. Controlled. "I didn't expect to see you." "Clearly." She didn't smile. "Though your wife did." The way she said "wife." With just enough emphasis to make it a weapon.

I wanted to die with something beautiful around me instead of these white walls and the smell of antiseptic. "I'll arrange it," Whitmore said quietly. "But Mrs. Vale, please. Let me come with you." "No." I tried to smile, though my cracked lips made it painful. "I want to see my husband alone. Just us. The way it should be." The way it never was, some traitorous part of my mind whispered. I silenced it.

The elevator doors closed. I was still standing there when they opened again and Adrian stepped back out, moving toward the exit. He was halfway across the floor when his eyes found me. He stopped. Then he changed direction and walked straight toward me. "I don't know who you are," he said, his voice low, "but I am going to say this once. Stay away from my wife. Whatever you think is happening here — parading yourself around a married woman like it is acceptable — you should be ashamed of yourself."