Chapter 1 She Couldn’t Speak
Lilian Rossum stared at the clock on the wall, and the hour hand reached 12.
The food on the table had gone cold again, so Lilian took them into the kitchen and reheated them.
At twelve fifty in the morning, the front door opened. Lilian turned her head and saw Francis Landau coming back.
With his suit jacket hanging on his arm and his handsome face showing a hint of drunkenness, he walked towards Lilian.
Lilian stood up and poured him a glass of sobering fruit juice. However, just as she handed the glass over, he knocked it over.
Then, he grasped her chin and kissed her lips.
The smell of alcohol filled the air, mixed with the scent of a woman's perfume. Lilian pushed Francis a few times but couldn't push him away, and he lifted her up and headed straight to the bedroom.
He turned her face towards him and gazed at her with his deep eyes. While caressing her face with his fingers gently, he asked, "Why don't you speak?"
Lilian stared at him intently.
He knew she couldn't speak.
She was mute.
But he would always ask, without getting tired of it.
Sometimes, Lilian couldn't distinguish if Francis was humiliating her or lamenting.
She held his hand that was touching her face, tilted her head towards his palm, and rubbed against it, like a little cat trying to please its owner.
The light in Francis' dark eyes dimmed a little, as if there was a surging undercurrent feeling about to burst out. He held her hand, lowered his head, and kissed her on the lips.
...
When Lilian opened her eyes again, it was already bright outside. The other half of the bed was empty, but she could hear the sound of water from the bathroom.
She picked up the clothes from the floor and put them on. Then, as she put on the last piece, the phone on the bedside table buzzed. It was Francis' phone.
Lilian glanced at the blurry figure through the frosted glass door of the bathroom, and then looked at the phone screen. There were a few messages from Julian Quinn.
"Did you go back?"
"You do this every time. Do you have to go to that dummy to disgust and annoy me?"
Lilian's eyelashes trembled a bit.
The bathroom door opened, and Francis walked out, wrapped in a towel.
There was still steam rising from his body, and his wet hair hung down. The tips of his hair were still dripping. The drops were falling onto his chest and then gathering into a line along the contours of his abs.
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