His Unwanted Mute Wife: Now His Obsession
Chapter 4
Sienna POV
I cornered him in the narrow hallway near the restrooms, where the orchestral music from the ballroom was muffled to a dull, rhythmic thrum.
Desperation clawing at my throat, I slammed my hand against his chest to stop him.
Dante looked down at me, his expression tightening with annoyance.
"What is it now, Sienna?"
I held up my cracked phone, my hand trembling as I showed him the photo.
Then, I let my hands speak for me. I signed aggressively, my movements sharp and jagged.
She did this. Valeria sent this.
Dante glanced at the photo for barely a second.
He didn't look angry. He looked utterly indifferent.
"It's a picture of you working, Sienna. It's the truth. Why are you ashamed of where you come from?"
My mouth opened in a silent scream of frustration. The sound died in my throat, choking me.
It's humiliation! I signed, my fingers flying. She is mocking me to the entire Family!
Dante caught my hands again, stilling my voice.
"Valeria is the daughter of a Made Man. She has class. She wouldn't stoop to sending petty texts. This was probably one of your old friends from the docks looking for a shakedown."
He released me, dusting off his suit jacket as if my touch had soiled it.
"Fix your face. It's your birthday dinner in ten minutes. Stop acting like a victim."
He walked away.
He defended her.
He would always defend her.
The dinner was held in a private dining room off the main hall, a space reserved for the elite.
The table was long, laden with crystal and silver, and filled with the inner circle.
Valeria sat across from me, perfectly poised.
As the waiters brought out the antipasto, the wife of a soldier next to me leaned in.
She sniffed the air theatrically, wrinkling her nose.
"Do you smell that?" she asked the table, her voice pitched just loud enough to carry. "Smells like... low tide."
The table erupted in polite, cruel laughter.
Valeria covered her smile with a linen napkin, her eyes dancing with malice.
I stared at my plate.
I gripped my fork so hard the metal dug into my skin, anchoring me to reality.
Suddenly, the large screen on the wall—meant for a slideshow of my life—flickered.
Static hissed through the speakers.
But it wasn't a picture of me that materialized.
It was a picture of Valeria.
She was naked. Tied to a bedpost.
And she wasn't alone.
She was with a man who was definitely not Dante. It was a rival soldier.
The room exploded.
Chairs scraped violently against the floor as men jumped to their feet.
Valeria shrieked, shattering the glass-fragile atmosphere.
"Turn it off! Turn it off!"
She looked at Dante, her eyes wide with panic.
Then, finding her scapegoat, she pointed a trembling finger at me.
"She did this!" Valeria screamed. "She hacked the system! She's trying to frame me!"
Dante stood up.
His face was a mask of thunder.
He looked at the screen, then at Valeria, and finally, he turned his cold gaze upon me.
He didn't see the truth.
He didn't see that I lacked the skills, the resources, or the access to do this.
He only saw his mistress humiliated.
And his wife sitting there, stone-faced.
"Sienna," he said.
It was not a question. It was a warning.
A sentence.
He believed her.
Again.
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