The Silent Bride's Forced Tech Marriage

The Silent Bride's Forced Tech Marriage

Duwu Qingyang

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I was the "broken" daughter of the Winters family, a mute girl hidden away in a conservatory while our legacy rotted. To my parents, I wasn't a person-I was a liability they couldn't wait to liquidate. The betrayal came in a cold study. My grandfather sold me to Florian Mercado, the most ruthless shark in Silicon Valley, as collateral for a secret ledger. I wasn't a bride; I was a business acquisition. The humiliation started at the courthouse. My mother smeared bloody red lipstick on my face like a brand, and Florian signed our marriage license with enough force to tear the paper. He looked at me with pure disgust, seeing a "defective product" he'd been tricked into buying. He threw me into his high-tech penthouse, a smart-home prison where everything was voice-activated. Because I couldn't speak, I couldn't even open the fridge. I was left starving in the dark for days while he ignored my existence. At a high-society gala, he finally cornered me. In front of a swarm of paparazzi, he forced me to sign a legal declaration of my own mental instability. He didn't just want my family's secrets; he wanted to own my very sanity, publicly branding me a "fragile" bride to strip me of my rights. I sat in that glass cage, burning with a rage they never saw coming. They thought my silence was a weakness, a blank space they could fill with their own cruelty. They forgot that a vault is silent for a reason-it's protecting the only thing that matters. I shoved my tablet into Florian's chest, revealing the truth: I had every illegal account number and encryption key from the secret ledger memorized since I was twelve. I gave him a choice: sign my new terms, or watch me leak the data and turn his billion-dollar empire into a federal prison sentence. "Deal," he whispered, finally seeing the predator behind my quiet eyes. The war had just begun.

The Silent Bride's Forced Tech Marriage Chapter 1 No.1

The shears made a crisp, satisfying snip as they severed the stem.

Alessandra Winters held the sprig of Belladonna up to the filtered light of the Victorian conservatory. It was poisonous, deadly if ingested, yet beautiful in its deceit. Just like the Winters family name.

Through her noise-canceling headphones, the monotone voice of a financial news anchor detailed the morning's market crash. Liquidity crisis. Winters Trust under investigation. The words meant nothing to the plants, but they meant everything to the delicate ecosystem of her survival. She didn't react. Her pulse remained steady, a flat line in a chaotic world.

The glass door to the conservatory slammed open. The vibration traveled through the floor tiles before the sound registered.

Alessandra didn't flinch. She kept the shears hovering over a particularly stubborn branch of nightshade.

Mrs. Winters marched in. Her heels clicked against the stone like gunshots. She looked at her daughter-really looked at her-with the same disdain she reserved for a withered orchid.

"Take those ridiculous things off," her mother snapped, though Alessandra couldn't hear the words, she read the violent movement of her lips.

Alessandra lowered the shears. She slid the headphones down to her neck. The silence of the greenhouse was replaced by the angry, ragged breathing of a woman losing her grip on high society.

"Your grandfather is waiting," Mrs. Winters said, stepping forward and snatching the shears from Alessandra's hand. The metal blades clattered onto the potting table. "Stop pretending you're deaf. We all know you're just broken."

Alessandra slowly peeled off her gardening gloves. Her hands were pale, the veins visible beneath the skin like a roadmap of a place she'd never left. She raised her right hand.

Good morning, Mother, she signed. The movements were fluid, sarcastic in their exaggerated grace.

Mrs. Winters' face flushed a blotchy red. She hated the sign language. She hated that it required her to pay attention. "Silas is in the study. Now."

Alessandra didn't argue. She walked past her mother, smelling the cloying scent of Chanel No. 5 trying to mask the scent of gin.

The walk to the study felt like a funeral procession. The Winters estate was a mausoleum of dark wood and darker secrets. When she entered Silas Winters' study, the air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

Silas sat behind a desk that cost more than most people earned in a lifetime. He didn't look up. He slid a thick document across the polished mahogany. The friction of paper on wood was a hiss.

"The Trust is in the red," Silas said. His voice was gravel grinding on glass. "The audit from '09 is resurfacing. We need liquidity, and we need a shield."

Alessandra stood still. She knew this. She knew the ledger of illegal wire transfers from that year by heart. She'd memorized it when she was twelve, right before the silence took her. That knowledge was her only currency, but she felt as powerless now as she did then, unaware of the legal authority she secretly held.

"Florian Mercado," Silas announced.

The name landed in the room like a grenade. The tech mogul. The shark of Silicon Valley. New money, ruthless, and currently looking for a way to legitimize his empire with old-world connections.

"He wants the physical black ledger and its encryption keys," Silas continued, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers. They were cold, dead things. "We are giving him a merger. You are the collateral."

Alessandra's stomach tightened. A physical knot formed beneath her ribs. She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out her tablet. Her thumbs flew across the screen.

A mechanical, genderless voice filled the room. "I am a person. Not a liquid asset."

Silas let out a short, dry laugh. It sounded like dry leaves crumbling. "You are whatever I say you are."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the document. "If you refuse, the payments to the care facility stop today. Your nurse... what was her name? Martha? She'll be on the street by noon."

Alessandra's fingers froze over the glass screen. Martha. The only person who had held her when she cried, before the silence took over. The only person who knew she wasn't stupid, just terrified.

The threat wasn't a bluff. Silas Winters didn't bluff; he executed.

Alessandra looked at the document. Transfer of Assets. Her name was listed under liabilities.

She lowered her eyes. The fight drained out of her, replaced by a cold, heavy stone in her chest. She tapped the screen one last time.

"Deal."

Thirty miles away, in the glass-and-steel spire of the Mercado Group headquarters, Florian Mercado stood looking out over the San Francisco skyline.

"They agreed?" Florian asked, not turning around.

Arthur Mercado, his grandfather and the only man Florian respected, sat on the white leather sofa. "Silas is desperate. He's handing over the girl and the keys."

Florian adjusted his cufflink. "The girl. The public one, I assume? The one always in the society pages?" He wasn't asking about a potential partner, but about the piece on the board. He'd crossed paths with Chloe Gutierrez, a sharp-witted executive from a rival firm, and knew ambition when he saw it. If the Winters had any sense, they'd put their most competent player forward.

He had seen Chloe Winters in magazines. Sharp, ambitious, loud. A strategist. A worthy opponent, perhaps even a useful partner for a merger. She was the only Winters who seemed to have a pulse.

Arthur hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. "He said the Winters daughter."

Florian turned. His eyes were dark, intelligent, and predatory. He didn't like ambiguity. "Fine. As long as I get the ledger. That family is a sinking ship, and I'm just buying the wreckage for parts."

"And the marriage?" Arthur asked.

"It's a transaction," Florian said, walking back to his desk. He pressed the intercom button. "Get legal to draft the papers. I want the acquisition completed by Friday."

He looked at his reflection in the darkened monitor of his computer. He looked like a man who had won.

"Once I have what I need," Florian said, his voice devoid of emotion, "I'll liquidate the asset. I don't have time for a wife."

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The sterile white ceiling of the hospital room was the first thing I saw when I woke up, a dull ache throbbing at the back of my head. The kind nurse told me I' d fainted at the clinic, and that my son, Leo, was in the pediatric ICU. My son. Leo. The name alone brought back a flood of terrifying memories: his pale, sweaty face, his eyes wide with a terror that seemed to swallow the light. And Jake' s voice, cold and hard: "My son shouldn' t be weak and afraid of the dark! His bad habits need to be cured." I, no, Ava Miller, as I had been for the last five years, had clawed at the locked therapy room door. "Leo is terrified of the dark, and extreme fright can be fatal. If you need to punish someone, punish me…" Jake just laughed, his arm around Chloe Davis, the woman he claimed was the "real" Ava Miller, the one who needed a kidney. A news report on a private island wedding flashed on the hospital TV: "Billionaire heir Jake Hayes is celebrating his wedding to Chloe Davis." Chloe Davis. My name. The name I hadn't heard in five years. Memories crashed down, violent and agonizing: a rainy night, a car accident, my mother' s terrified face, and then Jake, whispering "You' re Ava Miller. You were in an accident. You need a kidney. You feel so guilty, don't you?" He had twisted everything. He wanted my kidney for the real Ava Miller. He stole my identity, my health, my memories. And now, he had stolen my son. Leo. "Mom… if I overcome my fear… will Dad love me?" His voice message, garbled and frantic, echoed in my mind. Rage pulsed through me. I was Chloe Davis. The woman on that island, wearing my name, had my kidney. And they were trying to steal my son. I ripped the IV from my arm. I had to get to Leo. When I found him, his chest wasn't moving. His eyes were wide open, fixed in terror. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, who had once pitied me, was sobbing. "Mom," I said, my voice flat, holding back tears. "I remember everything. I am Chloe Davis. It' s time for me to leave." His eyes finally, slowly, drifted shut as I whispered, "Mommy's here, Leo. Mommy will take you away from here. We'll go somewhere far away, and we'll be together forever." The nurse in the hallway sighed, envying Jake Hayes's "love." If only they knew that his real wife and son, lying dead in a hospital bed, couldn' t earn a fraction of that look. Not even in death. Later, in the house I had shared with Jake, I held Leo's urn tightly. Jake and Ava Miller were on the sofa. "Did you leave Leo with my mom again?" he asked, a condescending edge to his voice. "Bring him back to apologize to his aunt immediately." I turned to him, my eyes direct. I articulated each word with chilling clarity. "Leo is dead."

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The Silent Bride's Forced Tech Marriage The Silent Bride's Forced Tech Marriage Duwu Qingyang Modern
“I was the "broken" daughter of the Winters family, a mute girl hidden away in a conservatory while our legacy rotted. To my parents, I wasn't a person-I was a liability they couldn't wait to liquidate. The betrayal came in a cold study. My grandfather sold me to Florian Mercado, the most ruthless shark in Silicon Valley, as collateral for a secret ledger. I wasn't a bride; I was a business acquisition. The humiliation started at the courthouse. My mother smeared bloody red lipstick on my face like a brand, and Florian signed our marriage license with enough force to tear the paper. He looked at me with pure disgust, seeing a "defective product" he'd been tricked into buying. He threw me into his high-tech penthouse, a smart-home prison where everything was voice-activated. Because I couldn't speak, I couldn't even open the fridge. I was left starving in the dark for days while he ignored my existence. At a high-society gala, he finally cornered me. In front of a swarm of paparazzi, he forced me to sign a legal declaration of my own mental instability. He didn't just want my family's secrets; he wanted to own my very sanity, publicly branding me a "fragile" bride to strip me of my rights. I sat in that glass cage, burning with a rage they never saw coming. They thought my silence was a weakness, a blank space they could fill with their own cruelty. They forgot that a vault is silent for a reason-it's protecting the only thing that matters. I shoved my tablet into Florian's chest, revealing the truth: I had every illegal account number and encryption key from the secret ledger memorized since I was twelve. I gave him a choice: sign my new terms, or watch me leak the data and turn his billion-dollar empire into a federal prison sentence. "Deal," he whispered, finally seeing the predator behind my quiet eyes. The war had just begun.”
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Chapter 1 No.1

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Chapter 2 No.2

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Chapter 3 No.3

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Chapter 4 No.4

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Chapter 5 No.5

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Chapter 6 No.6

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Chapter 7 No.7

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Chapter 8 No.8

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Chapter 9 No.9

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Chapter 10 No.10

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Chapter 11 No.11

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Chapter 12 No.12

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Chapter 13 No.13

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Chapter 14 No.14

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Chapter 15 No.15

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Chapter 16 No.16

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Chapter 17 No.17

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Chapter 18 No.18

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Chapter 19 No.19

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Chapter 20 No.20

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Chapter 21 No.21

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Chapter 22 No.22

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Chapter 23 No.23

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Chapter 24 No.24

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Chapter 25 No.25

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Chapter 26 No.26

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Chapter 27 No.27

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Chapter 28 No.28

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Chapter 29 No.29

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Chapter 30 No.30

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Chapter 31 No.31

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Chapter 32 No.32

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Chapter 33 No.33

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Chapter 34 No.34

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Chapter 35 No.35

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Chapter 36 No.36

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Chapter 37 No.37

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Chapter 38 No.38

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Chapter 39 No.39

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Chapter 40 No.40

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