The Silent Lie Chapter 2

The storm raged outside, rain lashing against the windows.

There was a time when Seraphina would cuddle up to me during a thunderstorm, covering my ears and whispering, “Darling, are you scared?”

Now, she was probably lost in another man’s arms.

The bedroom door opened, and the mattress dipped beside me.

In the darkness, I could smell the alcohol on her breath as she leaned close, her lips brushing my ear.

“Hyde, darling, don’t worry,” she murmured in her sleep. “I’ve made you wait for five long years. I’ll make that pathetic mute give you back everything that was rightfully yours.”

A wave of revulsion washed over me.

Night after night, she had held me just like this.

And all this time, it was never me she was holding.

Tears welled in my eyes.

Beside me, her breathing evened out into a deep sleep.

I didn't sleep at all.

My mind drifted back to our first year of marriage. Seraphina had gotten pregnant with my child, and had it terminated without a second thought.

“A mute has no right to be the father of my child,” she had said.

I woke with a start, my shirt soaked in cold sweat.

My phone rang. It was my father, his voice frantic.

“Adrian, what is going on? Did you and Seraphina have a fight? All of our contracts with the Beaumonts were just cancelled overnight!”

I wiped the sweat from my brow, a cold fury hardening in my eyes.

I hadn’t expected her to move so quickly, to sever ties with my family to protect her son’s future.

My mother’s tearful voice came on the line.

“Adrian, your sister… she went to a club last night, and she hasn’t come home!”

“What if something’s happened to her?”

Before I could respond, another call came through, from an unknown number.

I answered, and my sister’s terrified voice screamed from the other end.

“Adrian, help me!”

The line went dead. A moment later, a photo appeared on my screen.

My sister’s hand was pinned to a table, a knife resting on her finger.

It was poised to slice it off.

Hyde’s voice, smooth and demonic, came through on a new call.

“Mr. Alistair, your sister is being a bit… difficult. Should I take the index finger, or the ring finger?”

“You know what, maybe I’ll just take them all. Oh, that’s right, you can’t talk. If you take too long, I’m afraid she might lose the whole hand.”

Just before he hung up, I heard a sickening crack, followed by my sister’s bloodcurdling scream.