The Silent Wife Kindle Novels & Stories

I take another bite of my food. He chuckles and claps his hands like it’s super funny. “A live-in... damn... I love Hollywood.” *Silas* “I heard you were here,” I say, walking into the small dimly lit room where my wife is sitting cross-legged on a padded bench, meditating. She holds up a hand, telling me to be quiet, and I slowly walk in, sitting down beside her. She looks at me, her voice annoyed. “I thought this was a room where I could find some peace.”

She may not have spoken the words out loud but her face said something about the others being fake. Mae Darkthorn. Silas Darkthorn's first wife. People referred to her as Madam Chief. She had a huge disgust for maids because her maids coveted her husband and he made them his wives right under her nose. News had it that Silas Darkthorn indeed respected and valued her more than the other wives and never clipped her wings. Mae never appeared in magazines or newspapers. You won't see her. Not one single picture of her. Because she made it so. The truth was that she was not just married to a powerful husband but her family was equally powerful.

Georgia's POV I learned early in my marriage that silence had weight. It could crush you slowly, press the air from your lungs until breathing became an act of rebellion. As Josiah's wife, I wore silence like couture. Custom fitted. Exquisitely tailored to strangle me inch by inch, a noose constructed from the finest silk by the most patient hands. I was at my vanity for forty minutes before he appeared in the doorway.

Fenris wanted to go wild with my wife, whose scent of rosewood and honey was alluring to me. “I am sorry, Silas. I am so sorry.” She squeaked, and my hands craved to touch my beautiful wife. I ran my fingertips over my wife’s face and said sultrily, “It’s okay, Bruna.” Bruna passed a sharp glance at me, her eyes looking so beautiful. She shrilled, “It’s not okay, Silas.” She unbuttoned the last button of my shirt, untucked it from my pants, and pushed it open. She looked down at my bare chest before looking up at me. In a tone filled with worry, she said, “Let me get some wet wipes for you.”

Every so often, she glances up, but the moment our eyes meet, she looks away again. I tell myself to let it go—to bury the anger and play the part of the composed husband. But the image of her whispering into that phone, her voice soft in a way I’ve only heard when she speaks to me, keeps replaying in my head like a film I can’t stop watching. The longer the silence stretches, the heavier it becomes. Finally, she exhales and sets her cup down, the porcelain clinking softly against the table. “Im your wife, Vex,” she says quietly, breaking the silence that’s been suffocating us both.

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,”

The precise, unhurried way she had signed I want a divorce in my living room, like a woman who had made a decision so completely that there was nothing left to negotiate. I put my hand down from the door frame. "Alright," I said quietly. "I am going." I stood there for one more moment anyway. Then I walked back down the corridor to the elevator and pressed the button and waited, and the whole time I was aware of the silence behind her door — steady and absolute and telling me everything she had not written on any of those pieces of paper. The car was where I had left it, parked slightly badly in my haste to get inside the building. I got in, closed the door, and sat.

A few minutes later, I lay down beside Mercy. “So cold…” she whispered while shaking. I pulled her closer to me so she could feel my warmth. Her eyes opened slightly. She looked confused and weak. Seeing her like that stirred something inside me. I leaned closer to her. “Haah…” she let out a soft sound. I looked into her eyes and spoke firmly. “Remember this. I am your husband. No other man is allowed to touch you.”

"You think understanding women is an easy job? I'd rather run through a desert than have to understand another woman again. It took me a very long time to understand my wife, and the process... Wait! I don't want to remember it. It's challenging to make her honest with me. Too much is hidden by women—especially when they're silent." Clay's advice turned into half a complaint, and it certainly didn't bode well for Wolf because Zoe was very silent. Zoe didn't even need to try to be silent. "I just want to know what can make her comfortable. That's it. Why is it so hard?!" Wolf drank his cocktail in frustration. "I have one way. I can't give a definite answer, but this might help you get an ans

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?”