The Womanizer's Mute Wife

© Luciana Rielle 2026. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the author’s written permission.

GENESIS

“Wake up, you little freak.”

A bucket of freezing water hit my face, soaking through the thin blanket and biting into my skin. I gasped, teeth chattering, clutching at the sheets as my stepbrother’s shadow loomed above me.

Mark sneered. “Think you’re royalty while we serve you?”

Before I could blink, he kicked the bedframe. Pain exploded as I hit the floor, jaw snapping against the wooden boards. I pushed myself up, trembling, but I didn’t stay down. Staying down meant worse.

Jimmy’s voice came next—calm, dangerous. “Mother wants to see you.”

He stepped closer, brushing wet strands of hair from my face. His touch made my stomach twist. I held still, eyes down, fighting the urge to flinch.

“And don’t keep her waiting,” he murmured, voice dropping to a threat.

I slipped away, wiping my tears quickly before they could see. Crying only made things worse.

Downstairs, Monica was waiting, glass in hand, her sharp eyes bloodshot and cold. Even from the doorway I smelled the alcohol.

“What are you standing there for?” she snapped. “Get over here.”

I obeyed, keeping my gaze on the floor.

She looked me over, lips curling. “Pathetic. Your father must’ve been blind to leave someone like you in my care.”

My chest tightened. He hadn’t left by choice.

Monica stood, circling me like a hawk. “You’re nothing but a burden. A filthy little freak. If I had my way, you’d be rotting on the streets.”

I bit my tongue, silent. She shoved me toward the sink. “Scrub this kitchen spotless. And don’t embarrass me when you serve dinner tonight.”

Her hand slammed into my back. Pain sparked through my ribs, but I caught myself. Her laugh followed me as I reached for the rag. “Be grateful you even have a roof.”

I gripped the counter until my knuckles went white. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not where they could see.

Just one more year. Then I’ll be gone.

By nightfall, my body ached all over. Every step felt like walking on bruises. But at least I’d eaten—Monica had let me eat in my room tonight. That was mercy in her world.

I sat on the edge of my bed, a borrowed library book open on my knees. The words gave me a small escape, even when I stumbled on the hard ones.

So lost in the story, I didn’t hear the door open.

Didn’t sense him until I felt the air change.

Jimmy leaned against the doorway, eyes glinting with something dark. “Still awake?” he asked, stepping inside.

My pulse jumped. I shook my head quickly and stood, gesturing toward the doorbell that had just rung downstairs.

He smiled—a slow, knowing smile. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He reached for me, fingers curling around my wrist. I pulled away, heart pounding, but he grabbed harder, his voice turning low and taunting.

Then...

“GENESIS!” Monica’s furious voice thundered from below.

Jimmy froze. His grip loosened. I stumbled back, gasping for air.

“Don’t move,” he hissed before storming

I sank to the floor, shaking, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

It wasn’t over.

It never was.