I didn't reply to the message.
Instead, I walked to the vanity mirror and stared at the woman reflected there.
Pale skin. Hollow eyes. A spirit ground to dust.
*Faith Delgado, you really are pathetic.*
For a man who doesn't love you, you've turned yourself into a ghost.
The door burst open.
Joshua stormed in, the flush on his face betraying the scotch before I could catch a whiff of it. His expression was a volatile cocktail—probing suspicion laced with a flicker of panic he couldn't quite hide.
"Isabella wants bird's nest soup. Go make it."
He barked the order. I read his lips, nodded, and stepped past him without a word.
No complaints. No hesitation.
But his hand shot out, snatching my wrist in a bruising grip.
"Faith, what game is this?"
He yanked me closer. "Before, if I so much as glanced at another woman, you'd burn the house down. Today, Isabella is sitting in my lap, and you're *smiling*?"
His fingers dug into my chin, forcing my face up to meet his glare.
"Do you think playing the obedient wife will make me change my mind?"
I watched his lips shape the cruel words.
Inside, I felt nothing but dry amusement.
*Joshua, you're wrong.*
I'm not calm because I'm trying to win you back. I'm calm because I can no longer hear the venom you spit at me.
Since I can't hear it, why should I let it hurt me?
I gently pried his fingers from my wrist. Typed a quick line on my phone. Held the screen up to his face.
**[Mr. Sawyer, should I add sugar to the bird's nest?]**
Joshua stared at the screen. His face turned an ashen shade of gray.
His phone vibrated. A voice message from Isabella.
I couldn't hear the audio, but I watched his expression soften instantly. The ice melted, replaced by warmth.
Then he looked back at me.
The disgust returned, sharper than before.
"No sugar. Add arsenic. Poison yourself and be done with it."
He slammed the door on his way out.
I watched the wood vibrate in the frame.
A strange sense of relief washed over me.
*Arsenic?*
If it offered a release from this, it wouldn't be such a bad prescription.
The next morning, violent vibrations jolted me awake.
Someone was pounding on the door.
Isabella.
She stood in the doorway wearing my silk robe, holding the bowl of bird's nest soup I'd prepared the night before.
"Big Sister, this soup smells disgusting. Are you trying to murder your husband?"
Her lips moved in exaggerated motions, her face twisted in mock horror.
Before I could react, she splashed the bowl's contents directly into my face.
Sticky. Cold. The liquid dripped down my hair, pasting my eyelashes together.
I didn't flinch.
Didn't even wipe it off.
Just stared at her. Dead-eyed.
My silence enraged her.
"Why are you pretending to be so high and mighty? Do you think Joshua still loves you?" She stepped closer, her face contorting. "He held me all night. He called me 'baby.' He told me you're like a dead fish—just looking at you kills his appetite."
Every vicious insult she could conjure, thrown like knives aimed at my heart.
Unfortunately for her, I couldn't hear a single word.
To me, she looked like a mime in a silent film—baring her fangs, waving her claws, looking utterly ridiculous.
I stepped around her, heading for the bathroom.
Isabella lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back.
"I'm talking to you! You deaf bitch!"
*Deaf.*
Well. She got one thing right.
I spun around.
My gaze turned to ice.
I might be deaf, but I wasn't stupid. And I certainly wasn't a punching bag.
I raised my hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had left.
*Crack.*
I couldn't hear the sound, but my palm stung from the impact.
Isabella froze, clutching her cheek, staring at me in disbelief.
