Sewn Lips: Her Silent Cry For Justice
My husband told me I was a contractual obligation, an irritant he was forced to endure after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a social media influencer, a woman whose lies were as polished as her feed.
But when her baby was found with a small cut on her lip, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous monster who attacked an innocent child.
My husband, the man I had stood by through everything, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he ordered a guard to take a needle and thread and sew my lips shut.
"She needs to see nothing. Hear nothing. Say nothing," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy.
He then had me hung upside down in the lobby of my own wellness retreat, a public spectacle for the world to condemn.
As I dangled there, bleeding and broken, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me.
But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I' d planted in the baby's room. And they had no idea that my family could crush his entire empire with a single phone call.
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Chapter 4
Audrey Wallace POV:
I woke up to the distant hum of the house, a sterile quiet that felt wrong. The blinding white ceiling of my bedroom stared down at me. My body ached with a dull, persistent throbbing, but the blood was gone. Someone had cleaned me up. Jake. It had to be Jake.
Jake stood at the foot of my bed, his face pale, eyes shadowed. He had dismissed his fleeting suspicion, I knew. Elliot? Nonsense. A hallucination from pain. He' d always dismissed anything that didn't fit his narrow, amnesiac view of the world. He preferred to believe Jada's carefully crafted narrative, the one where I was the villain.
His gaze was cold again. "You are my legal wife, Audrey. A contractual obligation. Nothing more, nothing less. And you will remain so." His voice was flat, devoid of the earlier confusion. "Don't ever mention that name again. Or any other name from a past that doesn't exist for me."
He paused, a calculated glint in his eyes. "Behave, and your family's logistics empire, the one I've been investing in and subtly expanding for you, will continue to thrive. Disobey, and you will lose everything. Understood?"
I turned my head away, my jaw clenched. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response. My silence was my only weapon now.
My heart clung to a single, burning hope: the car my father had arranged would be here soon. My escape. Real. Imminent.
Five years. Five years of this living hell. The casual cruelty, the dismissive words, the physical and emotional abuse. Each passing day had chipped away at my spirit, eroding the vibrant woman I once was. The pain was a constant companion, a dull ache that never truly subsided. I had endured it all, clinging to the phantom of a love he couldn't remember.
But that phantom was gone. Replaced by a monster.
I was done. Utterly, irrevocably done.
Suddenly, Jake's phone rang. He glanced at the screen, a soft smile touching his lips. It was Jada. He answered, his voice immediately softening.
"Jakey, darling!" Jada's voice, shrill and tearful, cut through the phone. "The baby! Something's wrong! She's bleeding! Audrey must have done this! She's always been so jealous!"
Jake's face hardened. He slammed the phone down. His eyes, now blazing with a terrifying rage, fixed on me. "You demon!" he roared. He yanked me from the bed, my still-tender skin screaming in protest. "What did you do?!"
He dragged me, half-dressed, out of the house and shoved me into his car. He drove like a maniac, tires screeching, leaving a trail of rubber on the pavement. The silence between us was thick with his fury, and my own growing despair.
We arrived at the retreat in moments. Jada rushed out, her perfectly made-up face streaked with feigned tears. Her eyes, however, were triumphant as they met mine.
"You monster!" she shrieked, her hand flying to my face. Her nails raked across my cheek, leaving angry red marks. "How could you hurt my baby?!"
"I didn't do anything!" I cried, trying to push her away. "Check the surveillance cameras! I was in my study!"
Just then, a young woman, one of my employees, stumbled forward, her face pale and trembling. She dropped to her knees before Jake, sobbing. "Mr. Foster! It's true! I saw her! Ms. Wallace… she told me to do it!"
My blood ran cold. Betrayal.
"She said… she said she was so jealous of Ms. Floyd and her beautiful children," the employee wailed, her voice cracking. "She offered me a large sum of money to… to hurt the baby, just a little. To make it look like an accident. She said Ms. Floyd needed to know her place!"
My world spun. This was a nightmare. A carefully orchestrated, malicious nightmare. "That's a lie!" I screamed, my voice hoarse. "She's lying! I would never!"
But no one was listening. A crowd of customers, drawn by the commotion, had gathered. "Monster!" someone yelled. "How could she?!" Another shouted, "I want my money back! I can't believe I trusted her with my baby!"
Someone was live-streaming the whole thing. My phone buzzed with notifications. My retreat's social media accounts were being flooded with hate. Calls for boycotts. My business partner, the one who had just confirmed the transfer, called, his voice tight with panic. He was backing out. The deal was off. My escape route, my future, was crumbling before my eyes.
Jake, his face a mask of primal fury, gently took the injured baby from Jada's trembling arms. The infant's lip was swollen, a small cut visible. He stared at me, his eyes burning with an inferno of hatred. "You call yourself a woman?" he growled, his voice a chilling whisper. "You call yourself human?"
"She deserves to be punished, Jakey!" Jada cried, clinging to his arm. "She tried to hurt our baby!"
"Oh, she'll be punished," Jake said, his eyes never leaving mine. His voice dropped to a terrifying calm. "Bring me a needle and thread."
My blood ran cold. Dread, a suffocating blanket, descended upon me. "No," I whimpered, shaking my head. "Please, Jake, no."
But he wasn't listening. A security guard, always silently obeying, appeared with a needle and thick, black thread. Jake watched, his eyes devoid of mercy, as the guard grabbed my head, forcing my chin up. The first stitch. The needle pierced my lip, a sharp, excruciating pain. I screamed, but no sound came out. Only a ragged, tearing noise. Another stitch. And another. The thread wove through my flesh, pulling my lips together, sealing them shut. Tears streamed down my face, hot and agonizing. My mouth was a raw, bloody mess. My cries were reduced to guttural mumbles.
Blood bloomed on my pure white dress, a stark contrast against the fabric.
Jake watched, his expression unyielding. "Still not enough," he muttered, his voice cold. "She needs to see nothing. Hear nothing. Say nothing." He turned to the guard. "The eyes. The ears. Stitch them too."
My body convulsed, a silent scream trapped within my stitched lips. The guard hesitated, a flicker of horror in his eyes.
"Do it!" Jake roared, his voice cracking with fury. "She tried to hurt my child! She needs to understand that she will never speak, never see, never hear again if she dares to cross me! This is for trying to destroy my family! This is for trying to hurt my baby!"
A choked, gurgling sound escaped my stitched lips. It was a laugh. A broken, hysterical laugh. I thought of my past choices. My blind love. My foolish hope. My unwavering loyalty to a man who had forgotten me, replaced me, abused me.
I loved the wrong man. I loved him with everything I had. And he had broken me. Utterly. Completely.
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9.2
Jacqueline Blackburn, a desperate Ivy League tutor, walked into the sleazy Veridian VIP club just to save her job.
But her billionaire client, the ruthless Christian Montgomery, mistook her for a cheap escort, blowing cigar smoke in her face and treating her like trash.
When she furiously turned to leave, a drunk former client attacked her in the hallway, tearing her white dress open and pinning her by the throat.
She fought back, stabbing the man's hand with a pen, only for Christian to emerge from the shadows and brutally crush the attacker's bleeding hand under his heel.
Instead of letting her go, Christian draped his heavy suit jacket over her exposed skin, trapped her in his dark suite, and forced her to sign a suffocating contract.
"You have exactly ninety days, or I will personally ensure you cease to exist in my city."
She thought she could just keep her head down, teach his nephew, and survive.
But she didn't understand why this terrifying underground tyrant was suddenly so fixated on her.
Why did he use his immense power to isolate her, publicly claim her at a billionaire gala, and track her every move?
When she received a chilling midnight text demanding she pack her bags and move into his sprawling estate by 8:00 AM, the terrifying reality set in.
She hadn't escaped the wolf. She had just walked directly into his cage.
9.4
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
9.2
Clara was drowning in student debt and barely making rent when she downloaded a fantasy mobile game to escape reality.
Inside the game, an exiled prince named Alex was freezing to death. Pitying him, she spent her last few dollars on microtransactions to fix his shelter and cure his poison.
But the game was far too real.
Every time she paid, the prince reacted. When she complained aloud about going broke, the in-game army suddenly halted, as if the prince had heard her voice.
Then, the terrifying real-world consequences hit.
Clara woke up to find her water glass and a box of Kleenex had vanished from her locked bedroom overnight.
She frantically searched the tiny apartment, her heart pounding in her chest.
She thought she was losing her mind. Had she thrown them out in her sleep? Was there a stalker hiding in her home?
How could physical objects just disappear into thin air behind a deadbolted door?
Until she looked at her nightstand.
Sitting exactly where her missing items used to be was a glowing, weightless crystal cup that defied all logic.
And on her laptop screen, the exiled prince was carefully holding her Kleenex box, offering a mountain of real gold on an altar.
She hadn't just downloaded a mobile game; she had opened a cross-dimensional trade route with a desperate future king.
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
9.4
My retirement was finally approved, and I was supposed to be sipping drinks on a sunny beach.
Instead, a cold system voice forced me into a nightmare scenario: "Cursed Mates Who Want Me Dead." I woke up in a stinking cave, trapped in the body of a psychopathic tribal princess.
The memories that flooded my brain made me sick. The original owner of this body had forcibly marked seven of the continent's most powerful beast-men and reduced them to tortured pets. She had ripped the shimmering scales off Jordi the Merfolk prince, gouged out a proud wolf-man's power crystal, and snapped an eagle-man's magnificent wings.
Now, Jordi was a mutilated, terrified mess hiding in a corner. He was so traumatized that he tried to slit his own throat just to escape me. His sister was actively trying to assassinate me.
To make matters worse, the system warned me that if I didn't heal these seven ticking time bombs, my soul would be erased. Yet the future timeline clearly showed that these men would eventually unite, burn my tribe to the ground, and dismember me alive.
I was paying for a monster's sins. Every time I tried to show mercy, they thought it was a sick new torture method. Words were useless, and my very presence was a trigger.
But I am a Tier-S operative, and I don't play the victim. I forced the system to unlock my powers and strapped on my tactical gear.
"Stay here and don't starve."
I left the trembling Merfolk behind and walked into the deadly primitive forest, heading straight for the powerful Oasis Tribe to take back his stolen scales by force.
9.2
When Alma's father stood in front of the bulldozers to protest, the energy company's thugs beat him half to death in the mud.
Instead of arresting the attackers, the police handcuffed her bleeding father and threw him into a cruiser.
"Stay back, kid," the officer barked, shoving Alma away.
Her father was denied bail and framed for assaulting an officer. The corrupt mayor just smiled and told her not to cause a scene. Meanwhile, the company mailed her weeping mother a severance check that barely covered a month of groceries.
Alma was forced to watch her family be completely destroyed by men with money and power.
Kneeling in the cold dirt where her father's blood had spilled, she didn't shed a single tear. The panic in her chest died, replaced by a cold, absolute hatred.
She realized that crying wouldn't do anything. In this world, justice didn't exist for the weak.
Years later, Alma stepped onto a prestigious Ivy League campus, her cheap backpack slung over her shoulder.
She was surrounded by the arrogant children of the very executives who ruined her life.
She lowered her head, hiding her dead eyes, and put on the perfect mask of a timid, helpless charity case.
Undergrad was just a training ground, and these elite kids were just her practice dummies. The hunt was officially on.