ALPHA ORIONS MUTE BRIDE

“I will not have a mute, backwoods nobody marrying into this family.”

Eleanor Sterling’s voice cut through the living room’s heavy silence like broken glass. She shot up from the silk sofa, her stiletto heels digging into the priceless rug.

Aria Sinclair didn’t flinch. She stood in the middle of the room, still as a stone in a storm. Her faded jeans and plain gray T‑shirt screamed defiance against the crystal chandeliers and gold trim. She kept her head slightly down, a curtain of dark hair hiding her face.

At the far end, Theodore Sterling Sr. sat in a throne‑like armchair. He slammed the base of his oak cane against the marble floor. The thud was dull and final.

“This is not a negotiation, Eleanor. It’s a promise I made to her grandmother long ago.” His voice was old and gravelly, but hard as iron.

Eleanor’s gaze swept over Aria, venomous and cold. “A promise? Look at her. She’s from Appalachia. A savage who can’t even speak for herself. She’ll ruin our name.”

In her jeans pocket, Aria curled her fingers into a tight fist. Her nails bit into her palm. The pressure kept her grounded, like a small secret anchor. On the outside, she stayed a statue—calm, blank.

Theodore sighed, a faint rasp. Some of the fire in his eyes faded, replaced by tired resolve. “Fiona is dying. This is the last thing I can do for her.”

The mention of Aria’s grandmother shut Eleanor up. She couldn’t argue with that. But her fury didn’t go away. It just shifted, focusing like a laser on the silent girl in the middle of her perfect room.

The old man turned to Aria, his expression softening just a little. “Child, from today on, consider this your home.”

The butler, Mr. Holloway, appeared beside her—silent, efficient, like a ghost. “Miss Sinclair, allow me to show you to your room.”

Just as Aria was about to move, the heavy oak doors swung open.

A man walked in, bringing a chill from outside and an air of absolute authority. Tall, in a tailored charcoal suit that fit him like a second skin. Dark hair perfectly combed. Features so sharp they could have been cut from ice.