The Womanizer's Mute Wife Chapter 5: I need rules

GENESIS

Three endless, suffocating days inside this cold mansion.

It was too quiet here. Too clean. Too perfect.

No Monica. No Mark. No Jimmy. No yelling. No fists. Just silence, sharp enough to cut through my skin.

I thought silence would feel safe. It didn’t. It felt like punishnt.

When I first arrived, I waited for rules. Soone to tell what to do, how to breathe, how to exist. But no one did. They just left food, plates piled high with soft bread, at glistening under strange sauces, and fruit that slled too sweet. I stared at them until they went cold.

I wasn’t supposed to eat like this. Monica’s voice still hissed in my head: "Filthy things like you don’t deserve good food."

So I ate only enough not to faint. My stomach twisted and begged, but I couldn’t. What if it was a test? What if touching the wrong thing ant punishnt?

The bathroom was worse. It was bigger than my old room. White tiles, mirrors, lights. I hadn’t dared step inside. I didn’t deserve it. I slept on the floor, wrapped in a bedspread I’d soiled.

The sll was unbearable now, sweat, urine, fear, but no one yelled. No one beat . That silence pressed down on harder than any hand ever had.

I wanted to ask soone, "What are the rules here?" but that was not possible . So I waited. Curled up on the cold floor. Waiting for sothing to break.

Then the door creaked open.

Light spilled into the room. My eyes snapped shut. Maybe if I stayed still, they’d think I was asleep.

A voice cut through the silence, deep, sharp, disbelieving.

"What the fuck."

My chest seized. Him. My husband.

My body went rigid. I didn’t breathe. That tone, I knew what ca next. Words like that always ca before pain.

I cracked my eyes open just enough to see him standing there. Tall. Still. His face a storm of confusion and anger as his gaze swept across the room, the untouched food, the filthy sheets, and , crouched in the corner like a broken thing.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. My heart hamred so hard I thought I might throw up.

"What the hell is going on here?" His voice was lower now, rough, like he didn’t trust himself.

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even look up.

Then I felt him kneel beside . The air shifted. Warm. Heavy. Close.

"Hey." His tone softened. "Look at ."

I couldn’t.

"Genesis," he said again, and my na sounded different in his mouth—less like a command, more like a question.

I turned my head, just enough to see his shoes. My body trembled.

He didn’t speak for a long ti. When he did, his voice cracked. "What the hell happened to you?"

The words made my throat ache. I didn’t know if he was angry, disgusted, or—worse—pitying .

Then his hand moved, and I flinched, curling back instinctively. But there was no blow. Only a long exhale and the sound of his voice, rough and tired.

"Richard!"

I jumped.

Richard appeared in seconds, pale and breathless. "Y–Yes, Young Master?"

"Get this room cleaned up," Kier barked. "Now. Clothes, food. Sothing fresh. And hurry."

Richard hesitated, startled.

"Now!" Kier snapped, voice echoing through the room.

When the butler scurried off, Kier turned back to . I stared at my hands, fighting tears.

"Co with ," he said.

I froze. My lungs burned. This is it, I thought. He’s going to hurt .

But I stood anyway. Because obeying was safer.

He led to the bathroom and opened the door. "Go in."

I obeyed. The floor was spotless. The air slled like soap. I didn’t belong here.

"Take a shower," he said.

My hands shook. Was it a trick? I hesitated, then began to undress—slow, careful, like I’d done sothing wrong. When I looked up, he was already turned away, muttering under his breath, "When the hell did you undress so fast?"

Sha burned through . I knew he’d seen the scars.

He dragged a hand down his face, voice lower now. "Step into the shower. Go on."

I moved toward the glass stall, confused by all the buttons. At Monica’s, there’d been only a bucket. I pressed one at random.

Scalding water shot out, blasting my skin. I gasped silently, stumbling backward—straight into his chest.

He caught instantly. His arms tightened, steadying .

"What happened?" he asked, voice sharp with alarm, not anger.

I trembled, unable to speak.

He guided gently back to the stall. "Easy. It’s okay. Just water. I’ll help you."

No one had ever said that to before.

And that was the mont the walls inside began to crack.