The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact

ur of steel and ambition, but inside, the air was recycled and stale. She looked down at her feet. Her canvas shoes were frayed at the edges, the white rubber yellowed by time and the gr

ainst the pristine, deep-pile le

in the rearview mirror. He looked at her the way one looks at a stain on a silk shirt. He pressed a button,

hesitated. He checked his clipboard, looked at the car, then looked at the clipboard again. Three second

e and waited. Elara opened her door. The humidity of a Manhattan summer hit her, thick and suffocating. S

rded-stood at the top of the stairs. He did not bow. He did not smile. He extended one arm, his index

d she didn't plead. She simply looked through him, her eyes dark and unblinking, devoid of the deference he expected. She step

ightly. She locked eyes with him. It was a look she had perfected in the communal showers of the foste

n the heavy oa

pended from the three-story ceiling, refracting light into a thousand piercing daggers. Laughte

made no noise on the marble, but her prese

ter died

ops of Earl Grey. For a fraction of a second, Eleanor's eyes widened-a flicker of recognition, perhaps even guilt-before the mask of the obedient wife slammed back into plac

frowned, a deep vertical line appearing between his brows, as

there was

operational budget of Elara's last group home. She clung to Eleanor's arm, her head resting on her mother's shoulder. Her eyes, wide a

t Victoria Vance. The matriarch. She held a cane topped

chment crumpling. She scanned Elara from her messy bun t

let the insult wash over her, noting the way Eleanor flinch

n a theatrical display. "Is it true? Is she... does she not

ough her hand stroked Tiffany's hair s

a foot away, invading Elara's personal space. She smelled of vanilla and old money. She l

hispered. The venom in her voice w

blink. She didn't breathe. She just watched, dissecting the fear that lay beneath the aggression. Tiffany's

rd barked, breaking the tensi

at Elara's elb

fany's room was ajar. It was a cavern of pink silk

stopped at a narrow door at the end of the hall. He unlocked it and pushed it open. It was a converted st

Jeeves said. "Tardin

The loc

r. She walked to the window and looked down. A gardener was trimmin

, pried open the hidden compartment in the heel, and pulled out the small, silver digi

d slipped it into her pocket before entering the drawing r

n the empty room. She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. The sour, chemical tas