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"Arabella Butcher!"

The voice that tore through the silence was thick with fury, jolting Arabella from her slumber. As her eyes snapped open, a vice-like grip clamped around her throat.

"How dare you take advantage of my drunken state and sneak into my bed?"

Horror widened Arabella's eyes as she met the icy, threatening glare of her husband, Owen Murray.

Flashbacks of the previous night surged through her mind—Owen staggering through the door, reeking of alcohol. She had tried to assist him to his room, but in a blur, he had pushed her onto the bed. His next actions were swift and harsh—a searing kiss that she was powerless to stop.

Her muteness had left her voiceless, unable to protest or explain, as Owen's overpowering presence pinned her down.

Last night had unfolded in a whirlwind of his unrestrained desires, and Arabella couldn't recall when she finally slipped into sleep.

Snapped back to the presence, Arabella mustered the strength to gesture, eager to offer an explanation, but Owen's harsh shove sent her tumbling off the bed.

The morning chill wrapped around her naked body, forcing her to burrow into the sheets, seeking their fading warmth.

"Three years ago, you and your mother conspired to force me into marrying you, expecting me to forgive your father's atrocities. Now, here you are, attempting your twisted games once more. Every one of your family members is a crooked, backstabbing piece of trash!" Owen's voice was a low, dangerous hiss, curling around the room like a sinister whisper.

The blood drained from Arabella's face, leaving her looking like a lifeless porcelain doll.

Three years ago, Owen's one true love, Aria Jenkins, had been mercilessly kidnapped. Following her harrowing escape, a tragic car accident left her in a vegetative state, a dire situation tied back to Arabella's father, Kristian Butcher.

Kristian had been vehemently professing his innocence, denying all allegations of kidnapping or intending harm to Aria. Yet, it was his number that the ransom demands traced back to, and he was undeniably present at the accident that befell her. The evidence against him was overwhelming, leading to a ten-year sentence behind bars.

During that tumultuous time, Arabella's mother, Khloe Butcher, desperate to save Kristian and cement ties with the influential Murray family, had resorted to drugging Owen and Arabella.

Under the haze of narcotics, Arabella had been coerced into Owen's bed, an act that sealed their fates together. They spent that night intertwined, and by the next dawn, under the stern gaze of Owen's grandmother, Julissa Murray, the reluctant groom was pressed into a marriage with Arabella.

Arabella could never erase the image of Owen's face from that day. It was a visage marred by revulsion, seething rage, and a deep-seated loathing.

Today, his face reflected that same storm of emotions from three years ago.

Back then, Arabella had been just as much a victim of Khloe's schemes as Owen, yet Owen had dismissed her attempts at explaining the truth.

Last night's events only compounded their strained relations. Owen, convinced Arabella had schemed against him again, dismissed her frantic gestures and the pleading in her eyes as mere acts of deception.

Observing the hickeys that marred her skin only darkened Owen's gaze further, his lips twisting into a scornful sneer. "You may be mute, but your actions scream louder than words ever could. What's your angle this time, Arabella? After getting laid with me yet again, what is it that you're after?"

Arabella clutched her chest, a dull ache blooming deep within. Her muteness wasn't something she was born with—her voice was cruelly stolen from her by a tragic accident years ago. Yet, in his eyes, she was nothing more than a conniving figure. Since that was the case, she might as well...

Desperate, Arabella communicated through swift, emphatic sign language, her hands painting the urgency in the air—her father was gravely ill, and she pleaded for his medical parole. Her eyes, brimming with a plea for compassion, met only a chilling coldness in return.

Owen's face darkened as he understood Arabella's gestures, an intimidating aura emanating from him as he seized her chin. His fingers, long and usually graceful, now exerted a painful pressure, forcing her to meet his stormy gaze.

"Medical parole? Your father's the reason Aria lies comatose, trapped in an endless night! I want him to suffer in a cell for the rest of his miserable life. And you honestly believe one night with you would sway me?"

Arabella flinched under his iron grip, fear flickering through her as she felt her jaw threaten to give way under his force. Frantically, she signed again, her movements sharp with desperation—Kristian was innocent!

Arabella's mind raced through memories of Kristian, a beacon of honesty and integrity. He had always been the gentle soul who had tirelessly juggled multiple jobs to keep them afloat, never once succumbing to the easy escape of debt. Kidnapping, extortion—such crimes were unfathomable, completely out of character for him.

For years, Arabella had investigated tirelessly behind the scenes, chasing every clue to prove Kristian's innocence.

Just yesterday, Arabella's visit had shown her how much Kristian had withered under prison's merciless grip—frail, hollow-eyed, plagued by relentless nosebleeds and violent coughs that left bloodstains on his handkerchief. The sight of his suffering ignited her determination—she couldn't, wouldn't let despair win. Petrified, she desperately wanted to secure medical parole for Kristian, but without Owen's approval, no one had the guts to set Kristian free.

Arabella's unyielding belief in Kristian's innocence only fueled Owen's fury.

"Really, Arabella? Even with the evidence staring you in the face, you choose to ignore it?" Owen's voice was laced with incredulity.

Arabella attempted to explain once more, her hands moving in earnest, but Owen, his patience fraying, pushed her roughly aside. "Enough with the damn gestures, Arabella! They're pissing me off."