My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

I step out of the bathroom, steam following me—curling around my shoulders, reluctant to let go. The bathrobe hangs loose, barely tied, my chest still damp under the low light. Droplets slide down my collarbone, disappearing into the fabric.

The air is cool against my skin. A sharp contrast. A reminder that I’m here. Alone.

I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs, letting it settle.

Just sleep, Ellis. A long, deep sleep. Let your mind rest. Forget everything. Just... rest.

I sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips slightly beneath me—firm, structured, built for comfort without softness. Everything about it feels deliberate.

The sheets are cool against my skin. Smooth. High-thread, untouched by time. The pillows rest behind me—perfectly arranged, undisturbed.

I lean back, letting my head rest against the headboard. Upholstered. Clean lines. No imperfections.

The room is dim.

A recessed strip of warm light runs along the ceiling, casting a soft glow across polished surfaces—glass, marble, metal. The light doesn’t spread. It stays controlled. Contained.

Nothing feels out of place. Nothing ever does.

I close my eyes.

Then—

A knock.

Soft. Almost hesitant. Like whoever’s on the other side isn’t sure they have the right to be there.

My eyes open. I look at the door.

Is he still out there?

My expression shifts. Just a flicker. Something I don’t want to name passes through me—surprise, maybe. Or something worse.

I turn my face away.

Who cares.

I lie down and pull the blanket over me—the fabric cool against my skin, smooth as water. I rest my head on the pillow, adjust it once, then close my eyes.

Sleep, Ellis. Just sleep.

KNOCK...

My eyes open. My jaw tightens, teeth pressing together until my temples ache.

I already told him to leave me alone. I made myself clear. What is his problem now?

I close my eyes again, forcing my breathing to slow.

Ignore it. He’ll go away.

KNOCK...

My fists clench in the blanket, the fabric twisting between my fingers.

KNOCK...

I shift, turning onto my stomach. I press my face into the pillow—the cool side—and push my forehead against it.

KNOCK...

I sit up. Fast. Jerky. The blanket slides off my chest.

"Do you have a death wish?"

My voice cuts through the room—sharp, loud, shattering the silence. Even the dim light seems to hold its breath.

"If you knock one more time—" My voice drops. Low. Dangerous. "I will kick you out of this house. Do you understand me?"

I stare at the door.

Silence. No knock. No sound. No movement.

The quiet stretches. Thickens. Becomes something solid between us.

Maybe he’s gone.

I sigh. The anger drains out of me like water from a cracked vessel. I lie back down, pulling the blanket to my chin. My eyes stay on the door.

Then—

I see it.

A corner of white.

Sliding in from beneath the door. Slow. Careful. Deliberate.

A paper note.

I stare at it.

Is he still there?

Seriously?

I ignore it and turn toward the glass wall. Heavy curtains hide most of the night—but not all of it. A thin gap reveals darkness outside, endless and quiet, scattered with faint stars.

A soft shuffle. Another note slides through.

My brows tighten. A line forms between them.

This is so annoying.

I throw the blanket aside and stand. The marble floor is cold against my bare feet—sharp enough to send a shiver up my spine.

I walk to the door. Look down at the papers. Then bend and pick them up.

The first note:

Are you okay?

My eyes trace the letters. Neat. Careful. Deliberate.

Please eat something.

The second note:

Please open the door. Just for a moment.

I crush both notes in my fist. The paper crumples—loud in the silence, harsh in a way that feels good. I throw them aside. They land on the floor like nothing.

After forcing his way into my life. After ruining everything—he asks if I’m alright?

What confidence.

Another note slides beneath the door. I watch it appear, inch by inch—white against the dark wood.

I pick it up.

Just once. Open the door. Then I’ll go back. I won’t bother you again. I promise.

My fist tightens. The paper crumples—smaller, smaller, a ball of white in my palm. My voice comes out cold. Flat. A blade wrapped in silk.

"Then stay there all night. I don’t care."

I turn and walk back to the bed, then sit down.

The mattress dips slightly beneath me—firm, precise, adjusting to my weight without losing its shape.

What is he thinking? Who does he think he is? Walking into my place. Cooking for me. Waiting for me. Asking if I’m okay.

I’m not okay.

I haven’t been okay since the day they told me about this marriage.

I lie back, pulling the blanket to my chin, and close my eyes.

Sleep, Ellis. Just sleep.

I lie there.

Time passes—but not gently. Each second drags, stretching longer than it should. The room stays quiet. Too quiet. No sound but my own breathing.

But sleep doesn’t come.

I shift, turning onto my side. The pillow warms beneath my cheek. I flip it over, pressing against the cooler side. Nothing.

I turn onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Clean lines. Soft, recessed lighting. No shadows moving—just stillness.

Why can’t I sleep?

Everything is quiet. The lights are dim. The room is silent.

So why—

I sit up, running both hands through my hair. My fingers catch, tugging roughly. Frustration burns behind my eyes—hot, sharp, useless.

I reach for my phone on the bedside table. The screen lights up, blue cutting through the dark.

Midnight.

Maybe a drink will help. Maybe then I can sleep.

My gaze shifts to the door.

It’s late. He’s gone back to his room by now.

He should know when to stop.

I set my phone down and step off the bed.

The marble is cold against my bare feet. My steps are quiet in the stillness as I walk toward the door.

I unlock it. The click is loud—too loud in the silence.

I just want a drink. Enough to empty my mind. Enough to sleep.

I open the door. Step out.

And freeze.