The Mute Wife's Silent Revenge

a stagnant, golden mirror. Edlyn sat at the end of the long mahogany table, her hands folded in her lap. Th

ece that cost more than her fat

disengaging was like a gunshot in the quiet room. Edlyn

degrees. He didn't look at her. He loosened his tie with a shar

e dutiful wife greets the husband. She walked t

old night air. It was antiseptic. Sharp, medicinal, chemi

avoiding her touch as

ly, devoid of warmth. "I don't recall a cl

lip. She raised her hands

cold soup on the t

I don't ea

't ask about her day. He didn't ask why she was awake

moment, her hands empt

k was a landscape of tense muscle. He threw the shirt into the ha

tablet was gone, likely in his briefcase, but his personal phone

lert, but the timi

in the shower. Through the frosted glass, she cou

Her finger hovere

stopped

to the phone. She brought it to her lips just as Arno stepped out, a towe

eyes narrowed. They were the col

re you

reached out, placing her hand on his damp arm. It was a t

did nothing. Then, he grabbed her wrist. His grip was hard,

ed. His voice was low, mocking.

ook into his eyes, to find the man s

opped h

," he said. "I have to man

e called the woman in the hospita

rabbed a fresh set of loun

suite. The bed was huge and empt

his watch. But in his haste, or perha

ack rectangle. It was

it up. The metal was cool