The Mute Wife's Silent Revenge

emical comfort she had known since childhood. She held the scalpel with a steadiness that defied the tremors in her chest. This was a seventeenth-century Dutch oil pai

She exhaled slowly, placed the scalpel on the velvet tray, and tapped the monitor on

pad. She did not speak. She had

orn yesterday. Magda hung it in the master closet with the reverence due a religious artifact. Edlyn watched from t

leaning, but underneath, there was a faint, metallic scent. She reached out, her fingers brushing the fin

against her ribs, a frantic bird trapp

nai Hospital. VIP Wing. The tim

were sharp against her thumb. Last night, Arno had

ad l

it. She took a photo of the pass and moved it to a hidden, encrypted fol

n. An automated email from the nursin

y thin. The walls were closing in.

ypassed the elevator that led to the private garage and took the service exit. She walked fou

high. She navigated the lobby, blending into the stream of worried relatives and tired staf

e doors. They were not hospital security. They

n her ears. A nurse pushed a cart filled with rare, white orchids past the guards

well

. Arno never sent flowers. He consid

the closing doors behind the cart, using the bulk of the flowers

chinery. A ventilator hissed rhythmically. There was a team of doctors in white coats, their voices

ned his head. His gaze swept t

nct was to run, but he

rd said, stepping forward.

t no sound came out. She made a series of frantic, no

nto annoyance. He assumed she was lost and di

is tha

k prickling with the sensation of being watched. Only when the doors slid shut did she allow herself to gasp for air

buzzed in

me for

ed at the message, then up at the floor indicator as it descended. She had seen the