The Deaf Bride Isn't Deaf?

Ruby wrapped her arms around Grayson's neck, her face flushed, and her breath coming in uneven gasps.

"Grayson, no… I can't…"

He buried his face against her chest, his voice hoarse.

"That man touched you today. I need to mark every inch of you as mine. Until I say it's over, you won't be resting tonight."

Ruby arched her head back, panting.

"What if Miss Hudson sees us—"

Before she could finish, Grayson froze, his expression turning cold.

"She's deaf. She won't find out. You are not to mention this in front of her."

Ruby pouted, trailing lazy circles over his chest with her fingertips.

"I know… It's just… thinking about how she's about to become your wife, while I'll always be hidden in the shadows… it hurts."

His resolve wavered for a moment. Pinching her cheek, he sighed.

"You little jealous thing. I brought you into my home, isn't that enough?

"Don't worry. I won't leave you even after the marriage. Whatever I buy for Violet, you will have, too."

She finally smiled, her eyes gleaming.

"Then I want you to stay with me until the wedding."

He hesitated for two seconds, then, seeing the longing in her gaze, nodded.

"Alright."

Her smile widened as she leaned in, lips brushing against his ear.

"And right now, I want you."

His eyes darkened. Gripping her waist, he pulled her closer, and their bodies intertwined once more.

Outside, a flash of lightning illuminated the doorway, casting a pale glow over Violet's stricken face.

She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, forcing herself not to make a sound. Her vision blurred with tears. She had already seen Ruby's taunting video, but nothing compared to witnessing it firsthand.

Every gasp, every whisper, every murmur of pleasure drove a fresh blade into her heart, slicing it open, leaving nothing but raw, exposed wounds.

The sounds from within the room grew louder. She couldn't take it anymore. Turning swiftly, she fled.

Back in her bedroom, she curled up on the bed, hugging herself tightly, but no warmth reached her.

The echoes of their passion rang in her ears, relentless. She pressed her hands over them, but it was useless.

Barefoot, she stumbled downstairs and ran into the rain.

The storm poured over her, drenching her to the bone. Yet the cold paled in comparison to the weight in her chest. Behind her, the villa loomed like a gaping mouth, waiting to consume her.

She had to escape. As far as possible.

She wandered aimlessly through the empty streets, her soaked clothes clinging to her skin, rain blurring her vision.

And then, for a moment, the rain seemed to stop.

Looking up, she thought she saw Grayson from years ago, standing under an umbrella. His eyes held an unbearable sorrow.

"Violet," he said, "leave him. Leave the version of me that no longer loves you. Never forgive him."

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the man she had once loved.

'Alright,' she thought. 'I will leave. I will never forgive him.'

She wandered the streets until the first hints of dawn broke through the storm.

By the time she returned home, exhaustion had dulled the pain. She peeled off her wet clothes and collapsed onto the bed.

Moments later, Grayson entered the room, moving carefully as if not to wake her. As always, he tucked the blanket around her and pulled her gently into his arms.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he whispered, "Violet, I love you so much. In three days, you'll be my wife. We'll be together for the rest of our lives."

He spoke as if the words were a vow. As if saying them would make them true.

He never noticed the single tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

She had once read a quote: A man's sudden tenderness is often nothing more than guilt after betrayal.

Back then, she hadn't understood what it meant.

Now, she did.

She only wished time would move faster, so the day she left him would come sooner.