My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

My steps are faster now.

Faster. The echo of them bounces off the marble walls, chasing me down the hallway like accusations I can’t outrun.

Irritation rises in my chest—heat spreading, blooming, threatening to crack my ribs open.

How could he do this? Touch me without permission. Move me while I was asleep.

Like he has the right. Like I belong to him. Like the vows we spoke yesterday—empty, forced, hollow—already give him ownership over my skin.

I need to tell him. Clearly. Directly. The kind of clear that leaves no room for misunderstanding.

I don’t like you touching me. Don’t do it again.

So he remembers his limits. So next time, he doesn’t dare.

I open my bedroom door.

Step inside.

The room still glows with sunlight—golden, warm, almost mocking. Light pours through the curtains like honey, thick and slow, coating everything it touches.

White roses everywhere. Their scent hangs in the air—sweet, cloying, invasive. Like something alive. Watching me. Judging me.

My eyes shift to Silas.

He’s still sleeping on the couch. One arm tucked beneath his head. His chest rises and falls—slow, steady, unhurried.

Too peaceful.

Against the storm rising in my chest. The storm that wants to break things. The storm that wants to scream.

Who gave him the right to touch me?

I step forward. My hand lifts—ready to wake him, shake him, demand answers. A thousand questions burn on my tongue, smoke rising from the heat of them.

Then—

Silas shifts.

His lips part—just a little. A soft sigh escapes, barely a sound, barely a breath. More air than noise.

He rubs his head against the cushion, burrowing deeper into sleep—chasing something warm and safe that exists only behind his closed eyes.

My hand stops.

I stare at him.

His face is... relaxed. Soft in a way I’ve never seen on anyone awake. No tension in his jaw. No furrow between his brows. No mask. Just... peace.

The kind of peace I haven’t known since he came into my life.

My fists clench at my sides.

I should just leave him. Let him wake up on his own.

Then—then I’ll warn him.

Don’t touch me again. Or you’ll regret it.

I turn.

Walk out of the room.

The door closes behind me—soft. Final.

My steps stop.

Wait.

Why didn’t I wake him?

Why do I care about his sleep?

I press my fingers against my temple. Hard. Like I can force the confusion out of my skull.

Something is wrong with me. Something is off. I can feel it—a fog where there should be clarity, a hesitation where there should be action.

I need air. Real air. Not air thick with roses and wedding-night expectations.

I walk out of the mansion. Step into the garden.

The morning air fills my lungs—cool, clean, sharp as glass. It tastes like dew, earth, and something green growing.

My hair shifts in the breeze—light, restless, like it wants to lift away and disappear.

The grass beneath my feet is soft. Wet with night dew, soaking through my slippers—cold against my skin.

I close my eyes. Take a slow breath. Let the air settle somewhere deep inside me.

Relax, Ellis. Just calm down. Your mind is a storm, and you’re drowning in it.

Now. Think.

How do I get rid of this marriage?

How long until I can—

"Good morning, Mr. Groom."

My eyes open slowly.

Why does he always show up when my mood is already this bad? When my patience is this thin? When I’m one word away from breaking something?

I turn. Just a glance—barely a flicker—nothing more. Then I look away again. Toward the trees. Toward the sky. Toward anywhere that isn’t his face.

Everic stands beside me, a smile on his lips—that annoying, familiar smile.

His gaze moves over me, head to toe, taking in the stained shirt, the tangled hair, the exhaustion I can’t hide no matter how hard I try.

"Oh..." His smile widens. "What happened? Did you and your bride fight last night?"

My voice comes out flat. Cold. Like a door slamming shut.

"None of your business."

He leans closer, his voice dropping—almost gentle, almost kind, almost convincing.

"Come on, Lili. I’m your big brother. How is it not my business?"

I glare at him, letting the warning settle in my eyes. My voice drops too—low, dangerous, the kind of quiet that comes before an explosion.

"Stop calling me that. Or you’ll regret it."

He raises his hands, palms out in surrender.

"Fine, fine. I won’t do it again."

A pause. The birds keep singing. The breeze keeps moving. The world keeps turning—indifferent to my suffering.

Everic looks around casually, like he’s searching for something he’s lost.

"Where’s Silas? Is he still sleeping?"

I don’t reply. I let the silence answer for me.

A teasing smirk spreads across his lips—slow, deliberate, almost cruel in its playfulness.

"Ellis..." He leans in, lowering his voice, a wink slipping in. "Did you two... do it last night?"

I shift my gaze away. Annoyed. Tired. Done with him. Done with this conversation. Done with everyone.

"Do you have something else to say? If not—go."

He crosses his arms. His smile falters—just a flicker, just a crack in the mask.

"You’re getting ruder by the day."

I don’t look at him. My voice quiet. Sharp. A blade wrapped in silk.

"Didn’t you all cause this? You’re the reason I’m like this. Every single one of you."

Everic sighs—the sound of someone who’s explained something too many times.

"Ellis, stop being so dramatic. Stop pretending you’re not happy with this marriage."

He pauses, letting the words settle. Then— "Silas is beautiful."

"At the wedding, he didn’t even look real. Like something unreal. Something..."

Another pause. His voice drops.

"Everyone’s eyes were on him."

A beat.

"Honestly... I’m starting to regret—"

I turn my head. Look at him.

"Regretting what?"

Everic doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t need to.

Before he realizes—before he can put his walls up, before he can guard his thoughts—I slip into his mind. Quiet as a shadow. Silent as a breath.

his mind screams

{After seeing Silas... I regret it. Losing someone like him. If he hadn’t been promised to Ellis—if the proposal had been for me—I would have married him. At any cost. No hesitation. I would have said yes before they finished asking.}

My eyes widen—just a fraction. Enough for me to notice.

Everic turns, already walking back toward the mansion. His footsteps casual. Unbothered.

"Mom and Dad are waiting for you at the breakfast table," he calls over his shoulder. He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t see the expression on my face.

I stand there, staring at his back. Watching him grow smaller with each step.

Sum was right.

Everic has a crush on him.

...He wants him.