Unspoken Hearts: My Neglected Mute Wife's Escape Novels & Stories

“Okay. Give him what he came for. Aren’t you tired of this? Give him what he wants and let him be on his way.” But Wilbet didn’t move. He just... Stared. And that was when Malcolm said it casually, like he was talking about the weather. “Why your husband is suddenly mute, my darling... is because the priceless thing he gave up—was you

Somewhere in the dark, the woman’s heels scraped across the floor—fast, purposeful. Then… nothing. A sharp crackle broke the silence—Jax’s laptop, still open. Static fuzzed across the speakers, followed by a distorted male voice: “She’s not your problem, Knight. Leave her… or we all burn.” Jax’s gaze shot to Leo. “Okay, I don’t know who that is, but I’m guessing we’re not listening to him, right?” Leo didn’t answer. He was staring toward the faint outline of the door. It was ajar again… and she was gone.

The entire room was holding its collective breath as he spoke the words that destroyed my world into smithereens. "Wait…," he stuttered, stunned. "I recognize you." I could sense Nicholas's body tauten beside me. Vincent stepped forward, his gaze on my face as if to confirm his deduction. "You're… you're Patrick Hilton's ex-wife. The slave wife." Those Words stabbed me like a knife. There was silence in the room. Silence that killed. Then there was muttering. "Patrick Hilton's slave wife?" "Marry him on a contract?" "Is she? She was a servant?"

Arriving at room 107, Haven rushed to push open the door to room 107. However …. What Haven Clark saw was heartbreaking. His wife was making out in the lap of a mulatto man with a pure white face and handsome looks on the bed. They pressed their lips together. A box of bread, wrapped in a red gift with a ribbon on it, fell to the floor and was scattered about. The sound of the falling box made the two people who were making love on the bed flinch and separate their bodies from each other. "Honey, what are you doing?" shouted Haven Clark through trembling lips.

Leaving Arabella behind. Again and again. Her ambition grew. She didn’t just want the child. She wanted my name. My position. My life. And now I was telling her the truth— I never loved her. I kept her because my wife couldn’t give me an heir. Her eyes went wild. The room filled with her sobs. “You can’t do this,” she cried. “That’s your child.” I looked at her without emotion. “Tomorrow morning,” I said evenly, “you’ll go into surgery.”

I sank to the floor of the closet, the journal clutched to my chest, and finally let myself break. Not quiet tears or controlled grief, but ugly sobs that tore through my chest like claws. Because I'd had a wife who'd married me with hope. Who'd tried to love me despite everything. Who'd pressed a flower in a journal to mark what could have been the beginning of what she'd believed could be a real partnership. And I'd killed her slowly over four years of dismissal and neglect and choosing someone else again and again. I'd killed her hope first. Then I'd killed her.

After that, I became his prisoner, and his trophy wife. I told him about the nudes he took of me. The ones he cropped to hide my face before uploading them to the dark web. Then about the infertility: my so-called failure, when it was his body that was broken and how he refused IVF treatment because he didn’t want his father to find out.

I needed to protect her, to get away, to bring her into a world that had just shown me how awful it could be. Another contraction hit, even harder, and my water broke. Three weeks early, in the doorway of my ruined marriage, with my husband and best friend watching the mess I was in. "Oh God," I whispered, sliding down the doorframe. "She's coming. The baby's coming." The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Mikel jumping out of bed, naked and scared, reaching for me like he could undo what I'd seen. Like he could change what had just wrecked everything. But some betrayals can't be fixed. And some disasters leave nothing but ruins.

While my husband introduced Willow Collins as his fiancee and denied ever marrying another woman, I was busy cleaning dishes. Life is cruel and beautiful. But why do I have to witness the cruel part? At this point, I couldn't even cry anymore. The party would end and Stewart would beg me for what he did to me today. He wouldn't intentionally hurt me. I could swear that circumstances pushed him into it. I will wait until the party ends so that he can explain to me. * Lines of wrinkles were scribbled on my hands and they were freezing. It was finally the end of the party. Agatha and the two men guarding me finally let me go. Without checking my white hands twice, I rushed out of the kitchen an

Justin shared his desire to build a family someday, a life filled with laughter and love. His vulnerability opened a door inside me. I wanted that life too, despite the storms we faced. As the night deepened, I felt a rare sense of hope. But just as we were about to leave, my phone buzzed with an unknown number. I glanced at the screen and hesitated before answering. “Hello?” A distorted voice whispered, “You can’t hide forever, Joanna. The past always finds a way.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. Justin noticed immediately, taking the phone gently from my hand.