My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

The sunlight presses against my eyelids like a whisper. Soft. Golden. Insistent. It pulls me from the darkness I’ve been drifting in, coaxing me back to the world.

A sigh slips from my lips as my body stirs—slow, reluctant, heavy. The weight of unconsciousness clings to my limbs like waterlogged silk, dragging at my bones, making every movement feel like swimming through honey.

I open my eyes, and the world rushes in too fast. Everything is bright. Blurred. Unforgiving.

I blink once. Twice. Slowly, the ceiling comes into focus. The chandeliers hang like frozen waterfalls of crystal, catching the morning light and scattering it across the room in shimmering fragments. Each shard of light dances across the walls, across the sheets, across my skin, as if the sun itself is trying to piece together what happened to me.

Sunlight pours through the glass wall, warm and relentless, spilling across the floor like liquid gold. It pools around the furniture, climbs the curtains, and settles over the bed like a second blanket. The room is quiet. Still. Familiar in a way that makes my chest ache.

Silas’s room.

I’m in Silas’s room.

The realization settles over me slowly, like ash after a fire.

My body feels strange—light in a way that unsettles me. The pain is gone. The sharp, foreign ache that had been clawing at the base of my skull, the burning sensation that spread through my veins like wildfire, the strange heat at the back of my neck—it’s all retreated. Faded into nothing.

But in its place, there’s only weakness. A hollow, bone-deep exhaustion, as if something vital has been siphoned from me while I slept. Even the simple act of breathing feels like effort.

My throat is parched. My tongue feels thick and useless in my mouth, like I haven’t spoken in days.

Slowly, I push myself upright. The movement is heavier than it should be. My arms tremble with the effort, and a faint ache pulses through my lower body—dull, distant, but unmistakable. I lean back against the headboard, my breath shallow, my heart still unsettled.

Then my gaze shifts to the space beside me.

Silas lies next to me, sleeping.

Peacefully.

His breath is slow and steady, his chest rising and falling with the quiet rhythm of undisturbed sleep. A strand of brown hair has fallen across his face, soft and careless, catching the morning light like spun silk. His features are relaxed, vulnerable in a way that would have once made me want to reach out and brush the hair from his face.

And the scent—

That scent.

It fills the room. Strong. Present. Everywhere. It clings to the air, to the sheets, to my skin—to every inch of my body. It curls around me like a living thing, wrapping itself around my senses, making my head spin. The same scent I’ve been searching for, chasing through the shadows of my memory, unable to name or place.

The source is lying beside me.

The person I never expected.

I stare at him, and the truth settles over me like a cold, heavy shroud, tightening with every breath I take.

It was you.

The hotel room. The darkness. The hands that held me down. The voice that called me "my Alpha." The one who made me weak, made me burn, made me lose every shred of control I thought I had.

You.

The same person who smiled at me. Who made me breakfast. Who held my hand in the snow. Who looked at me with those soft, shining eyes like I was the only thing in the world worth seeing.

I let myself fall for you.

I fell for the silent glances. The gentle touches. The puppy pouts. The stubborn silences. The quiet warmth of you beside me in bed.

Soren’s voice slithers back into my mind, unwelcome and venomous, curling through my thoughts like smoke.

He’s not mute.

He’s not a Beta.

He’s an Enigma.

Is it true? Or was that just another nightmare, another layer of this waking hell?

But I know it wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

I saw him with my own eyes—the burning gold in his gaze, the way the air itself seemed to bend around him, the way he made everyone kneel without lifting a finger.

And I heard his voice.

Low. Commanding.

The voice that called me "my Alpha." The voice I hate. The voice I can’t forget.

"Sorry for being late, my Alpha."

Why?

Why the lies?

Why the mask?

Why everything?

Why did he let me believe he was someone fragile? Someone breakable? Someone who needed protecting...

...when all along, he was the one who could have broken me?

A sharp, splintering pain slices through my skull.

I hiss through my teeth, my hand rising instinctively to press against my temple. There’s a bandage there—small, carefully wrapped, neatly applied. Someone took the time to tend to me while I was unconscious.

Silas’s eyes open.

Slowly. Softly. The way they always do, like he’s rising from somewhere deep and peaceful.

The moment his gaze meets mine, he sits up, moving with a quiet urgency that doesn’t match the ease of his sleep. He reaches for a pillow and gently places it behind my back, making me comfortable before I’ve even decided I want to be comfortable.

His hand reaches for mine.

I shove it away.

Hard.

The motion sends a dull throb through my body, but I don’t care.

I can’t.

Not anymore.

I shift farther away from him, putting as much distance between us as the bed allows. My lower body aches—a dull, lingering throb I refuse to acknowledge.

Without a word, he picks up the glass of water from the bedside table and offers it to me. His eyes are soft. Pleading. Patient.

I don’t take it.

Instead, I push his hand away, making the water tremble inside the glass without spilling.

Silas quietly sets it back on the table before shifting closer again. Hesitantly, he reaches for the sleeve of my shirt, tugging it gently—a silent plea, the same gesture I’ve seen a thousand times.

I slap his hand away. The sharp crack echoes through the quiet room.

"Stay away from me."

His eyes stay on me. Unblinking. Unmoving. Unreadable.

My furious gaze pins him in place.

"Aren’t you going to explain yourself?"

Silence.

He says nothing. He just looks at me with those brown eyes I once believed held nothing but sweetness.

"Oh, I forgot." My voice is cold. Cruel. Deliberate—a blade sharpened with every word. "You’re mute. You need a notebook and pencil to answer me."

He lowers his gaze. His lips part, as if he’s about to speak—but they close again, sealed by a secret I can no longer ignore.

My chest burns.

The anger inside me coils and twists like a living thing, demanding to be unleashed. I don’t know how I’m still sitting here without tearing this room apart.

His hand reaches for mine again. I pull mine back before he can touch it, as though his touch might burn me.

"Don’t touch me."

My voice trembles with restrained fury.

"You liar."

He slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine. Something flickers in his eyes—something I have no intention of understanding.

"Your brother was right." The words taste like poison. "You’re a lying bastard."

I force myself to my feet. My body protests, but my will is stronger. The room tilts for a moment, yet I refuse to let it stop me.

My voice is cold. Clear. Final.

"Don’t show me your face again."

I turn and walk toward the door. My steps are quick despite the weakness in my limbs, despite the exhaustion dragging at my bones, despite the ache in my chest that has nothing to do with the poison still fading from my veins.

I’m almost there.

The door is only inches away.

Two arms slide around my waist.

I freeze.

His chest presses against my back. His arms tighten around me, holding me in place. His breath brushes warmly against my ear.

When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. Fragile.

"Please... don’t go."

A pause. A shaky breath.

"I can explain."

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