The Mute Heiress: My Ruthless Husband's Prize

urned a mottled purple. He slappe

pavement wi

n roared. The mic on the camera pi

of the scrubs. He shook he

lided with a lamppost. Pain shot through

e's having an episode! Grab

dug into her arm, bruising the skin

mouthed. No s

There was no plea in her eyes, no request for salvation. Instead, there was a cold, clear message: This cir

victim. But he woul

car door. He was s

the plan. This was not part of the plan. She closed her ey

the Rolls

buttoned his jacket. He took a drag of th

e the Red Sea. The aura of m

ked at Julian's hand, which wa

was conversational. "If your hand is stil

blinked

ne

took a st

e made of fire. He stumbled back,

forward, her

't hit t

her flush against his chest. The wool of his suit was rough

His eyes were hard, b

murmured, his voice low and mocking n