His Unwanted Mute Wife: Now His Obsession

Sienna POV

The private clinic reeked of antiseptic and sharp lemon polish, a violent contrast to the stench of rotting fish that still clung to my hair.

I sat on the crinkling paper of the exam table, shivering.

Not from cold.

It was from the sight of Dante pacing the hallway outside the frosted glass door.

His tuxedo jacket was gone. His white shirt was rolled to the elbows, marred by bright crimson.

Valeria’s blood.

She had collapsed twenty minutes after the chaos in the dining room. Foam spilling from her mouth. Seizures racking her body.

I had slipped the powder into her wine glass right before she threw it at the wall.

I thought I had failed.

I thought the wine dripping down the plaster was the end of it.

But she must have taken a sip. Just one fatal sip.

The door flew open with a bang.

The family doctor, a man named Dr. Moretti who had stitched up more bullet holes than surgical incisions, walked in. He looked ashen.

Dante followed him, sucking the air out of the small room just by stepping inside.

"She is losing blood fast," Moretti said, his voice trembling. "The toxin is destroying her red blood cells. We need a transfusion immediately or she goes into cardiac arrest."

Dante looked at me.

His eyes were voids.

"Test her," he ordered.

Moretti hesitated. "Boss, Sienna is severely anemic. Her records show—"

"I said test her!" Dante slammed his hand against the metal cabinet. Instruments clattered inside. "Valeria is O-negative. It's rare. Sienna is the only other O-negative in the family."

I shook my head.

My hands shook as I signed, No.

I signed, Let her die.

Dante crossed the room in two predatory strides.

He grabbed my face, his fingers digging into my jaw so hard I thought the bone would snap.

"You did this," he hissed. "I saw the residue in the glass. You tried to kill a Made Woman."

He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.

"You wanted blood, Sienna? Now you'll give it. Every drop if necessary."

He turned to the doctor.

"Hook her up. Direct line. Drain her until Valeria is stable."

"But she might go into shock," Moretti whispered.

Dante didn't even blink.

"Then she goes into shock."

They strapped my arm down.

I didn't fight. What was the point?

The needle pierced my skin. It was a thick gauge. It hurt less than his words.

I watched the tube fill with dark red liquid.

My life.

Flowing out of me and into the woman who made my existence a living hell.

Dante stood by Valeria’s bed in the next room, watching the monitor through the open door. He held her hand.

He didn't look at me once.

The room began to spin. Black spots danced in my vision.

My heart fluttered like a trapped bird against my ribs.

I was fading.

And as the numb coldness crept up my limbs, I realized the cruelest joke of all.

I couldn't even kill properly.

I wasn't a wife. I wasn't even human.

I was just a spare part. A blood bag for the King's whore.