Chapter 1
515words
This is "Mr. M's" tenth donation tonight.
The chat room erupts into chaos, comments scrolling too fast to read.
I stare at that black default avatar, steadying my breath.
My fingers fine-tune the sound settings.
I adjust my "Siren" voice—the one that drives the entire internet wild—to its perfect frequency.
"Mr. M."
I lean close to the microphone, my voice soft with just the right amount of husky texture.
"Here's the goodnight you paid for tonight..."
"Goodnight, my dear."
"May my voice bring you a moment of peace in this cruel world."
The livestream chat explodes!
Signal cut.
End broadcast.
A tired face stares back at me from the black screen.
No makeup.
Just a pair of eyes that must stay alert and calculating to pay off debts.
I am Siren, the most mysterious sleep-aid broadcaster on the internet.
I am also Ivy.
A "mute" wife with no presence, burdened with enormous debt, mortgaged to the Winterbourne Family.
One million.
With this money, I'm just 50 million short of clearing the debt left by my worthless gambling father.
I take off my headphones.
Lock them in the safe.
Pushing open the heavy door of the soundproof room, I transform from a goddess in the spotlight to a ghost in this mansion.
The corridor is dim.
As I turn the corner, the acrid smell of tobacco hits me.
"Walking without making a sound?"
The cold voice crashes down from above.
Theodore Winterbourne.
My husband.
The uncrowned king of this city.
He leans against the wall, collar open, skin taut below his collarbone.
His face is paper-white, with dark circles under his eyes from chronic insomnia.
Irritable.
Wrapped in hostility.
I immediately lower my head, press against the wall, and make myself as invisible as air.
This is the rule of survival: quiet, obedient, invisible.
Theodore despises noise.
Any sound above sixty decibels gives him splitting headaches, triggering his mania.
And I, the "mute" bride who never speaks, am a mere prop inserted by his family specifically to humiliate him.
"Get out."
He glances at me as if looking at a bag of garbage.
"Don't look at me with those dead eyes. You're making the air stagnant."
I take a step back.
No argument.
Theodore irritably loosens his tie and strides past me, knocking into my shoulder.
My shoulder throbs with pain.
I don't even flinch.
As long as he doesn't divorce me, doesn't cut off the guarantee for my father's debt.
Even if he tears down this entire floor, I'd hand him the hammer myself.
"Wait."
"Go to the study and get my sleeping pills. Now."
I nod.
I rub my shoulder and walk toward the study.
The study door is ajar.
This place is usually off-limits.
But he's clearly driven mad by his headache and can't be bothered with rules.
I quickly find the pill bottle.
Just as I'm about to leave, my gaze is drawn to the illuminated computer screen on the desk.
It's Siren's livestream replay page.
And the account he's logged into...
My heart skips a beat.
ID: M.
