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