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The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 877 | Released on: 04/01/2026

rch and fear. He was ushered into the morning room where Tiffany was already holding

" Eleanor cooed, c

into the beige wallpaper. The tail

other one?" th

Last season. Modest. She doesn't need to shine; she just

er attention sharpened to a raz

bottom of his pile. He handed Elara a grey dress. It was shapel

," Victori

ric was itchy. It hung off her frame,

god, she looks like she

look smaller, more pathetic. She looked at t

wo-story room filled with books no one in this family read. She

heavy mahogany doors

in. "Since the accident. He's paralyzed from the w

orne family needs a wife for him to secure his trust fund release. They don't

dle him?" Richard asked.

to the press. She just has to survive a year until the merger is com

er fingernails dug into her palms until skin broke.

il they left.

He had written his passwords on a sticky note tucked under his blotter-a security flaw she had noted in her foster father's

pped photos of the blood type reports. A, A, and B. Impossible biology. She didn't know the full s

let. She bypassed the family's parental

: Julia

h res

all Stre

ent two y

ury. Wheel

t him one m

t outbursts at t

iny paparazzi shots. Julian in a wh

e zoomed in on a photo taken three months ago.

ilter to enhanc

les were white. The

. The triceps definition was extreme. But it was the legs that caught

within months. Julian had been in that chair for

There was no glaze of alcoholism. No dullnes

as f

of pearls. "Here," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweet

lastic. She could

morrow," Tiffany smirked. "Good

looked in the mirror and gave

d that her terror campai

pearls off and tossed them into the trash can. Sh

t need to be charming. She needed to be th

to be his

Chapter End

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The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact

Alma Modern

“I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.”