The Mute Heiress: My Ruthless Husband's Prize

d brushed an invisible speck of dust from h

racing. She wasn't just Elenor Becker, the mute heiress. She was "The Analyst." She moved millio

his hand. She made a gestur

"You want to read the fine

anded it

, but her touch was precise. She wasn't reading. She was testing the device's responsiveness, swiping to access the system's root directory, loo

stem process that looked su

ablet was rippe

d, her hand

his face inches from hers. He h

omething," he asked.

s. Had he seen? Did he recognize the p

Mrs. Blackburn?" he asked, h

she possessed. She pointed to the corner of the screen where th

ee long seconds. He was dissec

ing skeptical. "It's the 14th. You

two security guards at the door. 24/7. For your s

ent. That's w

thout turning around. "Fix this mess with Julia

r click

k against the pillows, letting out a shaky breath. She thre

er hand. A drop of bright red blood welled u

r feet hit the cold floor. She stumbled to the

as choked with vans. Sat

rd's guards at the door

bathroom vent. It was small

o decide her fate. She had to get to th