The Womanizer's Mute Bride

GENESIS

“Wake up, you little freak.”

That was my morning greeting before a bucket of freezing water drenched me, soaking my thin bedding and making me shiver uncontrollably.

“What do you think you’re doing, sleeping this late? Do you think you’re royalty while we serve you?” Mark, my stepbrother, sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Before I could fully wipe the water off my face, he kicked my bed, sending me tumbling to the floor with a painful thud. My jaw slammed against the wooden boards, sending a jolt of pain through my skull.

But I knew better than to stay down. If I valued my life, I had to get up—quickly.

Without a second thought, I pushed myself off the ground, ignoring the ache in my jaw as I stood upright. My shoulders instinctively hunched as I faced them, bracing myself for whatever came next.

Mark was bad enough, but Jimmy, the older of my stepbrothers, was far worse. His cruelty wasn’t just physical—it was insidious, calculated.

Jimmy stepped forward, and I stiffened, my stomach knotting with dread. He reached out, tucking a strand of my wet hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering far too long. My skin crawled at his touch, but I forced myself to stand still.

Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I didn’t dare let them fall.

“Mother wants to see you,” Jimmy said, his tone deceptively soft. He didn’t pull his hand away; his fingers brushed against my cheek in a way that made my heart race with panic.

“And don’t keep her waiting,” he added, his voice dropping an octave—a warning I knew not to ignore.

I flinched back, slipping out of his reach as quickly as I could. The tears escaped despite my efforts, but I wiped them away furiously before descending the stairs.

Monica couldn’t see them. Not her.

When I entered the kitchen, I froze in the doorway. Monica, my stepmother, sat on a stool, a glass of something amber in her hand. Even from across the room, I could smell the alcohol.

Her sharp eyes were fixed on a stack of papers in front of her, but the moment she noticed me, she sneered.

“What are you standing there for like a useless statue? Get over here,” she snapped.

Startled, I nodded and stepped forward, keeping my eyes on the ground.

“Pathetic,” she muttered as her gaze swept over me. “You look like something the cat dragged in. Your father must’ve been blind to leave someone like you in my care.”

My head snapped up at her words. My father hadn’t left me with her because he didn’t want me. He was taken away from me.

But Monica wasn’t finished.

She rose from her stool, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You’re nothing but a burden. A filthy, good-for-nothing little freak. If I had my way, you’d be out on the streets where you belong.”

Her words cut deep, but I bit my lip and stayed silent. Any response would only make things worse.

Not that I could even speak.

“You’ll scrub this kitchen from top to bottom,” she ordered, shoving me toward the sink. “And when you’re done, you’ll serve dinner tonight. Try not to embarrass me, though I doubt you’re capable of anything else.”

Her hand shot out suddenly, pushing me hard enough that I stumbled into the counter. The pain in my ribs flared, but I caught myself before I fell.

Monica’s cruel laughter rang in my ears as she returned to her papers.

“Get to work. You’re lucky to even be under this roof.”

I turned away, gripping the edge of the counter tightly as the tears threatened to fall again.

But I wouldn’t cry. Not where she could see them. Not where any of them could see them.

*It will be over soon. Just a year. I just need to get through it and I’ll leave.*

---

I found myself in my room at the end of a long day, every inch of my body aching as if I had been repeatedly slammed against a wall. The pain was relentless, and I had no medicine to ease it.

Asking Monica for help would only lead to her typical response:

“I provide you with food, clothes, and a roof over your head, yet it’s still not enough for you. You want money for your filthy ailments? Just stay away so you don’t pass anything on to me.”

She would say it without fail, making it clear there was no point in asking.

Yet, amidst the discomfort, I felt a small sense of relief—I had managed to eat.

Dinner was different today. The usual shouting echoed around the house, but I was allowed to eat in my room instead of the dining area. Honestly, I doubted I could have kept any food down if I had to sit with them.

Once my meal settled, I pulled out a book I had borrowed from the library without my stepmother’s consent and began to read silently. Some of the larger words tripped me up, but I was determined to make sense of it.

As I immersed myself in the pages, I didn’t notice when he entered my room. I was so focused on reading that I didn’t feel the shift in the atmosphere until I sensed his presence.

I looked up to see Jimmy leaning against the door, a smirk playing on his lips, his gaze filled with a familiar hunger.

In a panic, I tossed the book aside and shook my head as he approached.

Just then, the doorbell rang—but it didn’t deter him.

I stood up and tried to signal that I needed to answer the door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his hand snaking around my waist.

Tears I had been holding back spilled down my cheeks as he pushed me onto the bed. I attempted to escape, but he yanked me back by my hair, and I felt some strands tear away from the force.

He chuckled as he ripped the delicate fabric from my shirt, revealing my breast to him.

“Looks like someone’s in a feisty mood today,” he remarked, his hand starting to glide toward my core.

But just as things were about to escalate, a furious shout echoed from downstairs.

“GENESIS!”

Monica yelled suddenly, her voice filled with rage.

Jimmy leapt off me as if I were on fire.

My body trembled—not just from what almost happened.

But from what was waiting for me downstairs.

KIER

“Welcome back, fam! You know what it is—live and loud from my favorite spot in the city.”

I tilted my phone, the live stream capturing the pulsing lights and packed dance floor of the club. The chat exploded with messages—half drooling over me, half trying to get noticed.

I leaned back against the VIP booth. My tailored black shirt clung perfectly to my chest, the top few buttons undone to show just enough skin for effect. I raked a hand through my tousled hair, pretending not to notice the camera lingering on my face.

“In case you forgot, you’re tuned into the Kier Blackwood channel, where you watch me live a life you’ll never afford. But hey, at least you can pretend.”

I scanned the chat, smirking at the flood of comments.

*Kier, you’re a god!*

*Notice me, please!*

*What’s tonight’s drink of choice?*

I swirled the champagne in my glass, holding it up to the camera.

“Champagne, because why settle for anything less? And before you ask—no, it’s not the cheap stuff. But you probably can’t tell the difference.”

“And you all have been asking for the secret of my glow,” I teased, lowering my voice for dramatic effect. “It’s all about good lighting… and good company.”

My gaze shifted to the two sexy models seated beside me, laughing and clinking their glasses.

The chat flooded with more emojis—some hailing me as a king, others calling me a jerk—but I just chuckled.

“Oh, and for those of you asking if I’ll ever settle down? Hate to break it to you, but love’s just a marketing ploy. I’m here for the good stuff: money, power, and a damn good time.”

I took hold of one of the models, pulling her close as I pressed my lips against hers, kissing her as if it were our last moment on Earth. She settled onto my lap while I flashed a cheeky grin at the camera and winked at my followers.

After ending the live stream, I tossed my phone aside and turned my full attention to the stunning girl in front of me, along with the others beside us.

I celebrated as if the night would never end—completely unaware of how I found my way back home.

****

The alarm was ringing like crazy in my throbbing head. I opened my eyes and grabbed it.

Why the hell was there an alarm on my nightstand? I didn’t know, but it had to go.

“Shut it!” I screamed, hurling the alarm at the wall and watching it shatter to pieces.

I smiled as silence filled the room, ready to spread out comfortably on the bed—when I felt someone beside me.

Thinking it was one of the girls, I wrapped my hand around the torso. But the body I touched was clothed.

That was the number one red flag—no woman on my bed should ever be clothed.

And the biggest red flag was the hard muscles I was feeling.

“I do not like being groped, Mr. Blackwood,” a very male voice said.

My eyes snapped open to see my driver-slash-bodyguard on my bed.

“What the fuck, Damon?” I yelled. In my haste to get away from him, I fell hard onto the floor.

“Shit!!!” I muttered.

“Mr. Blackwood, I sent your guests away because—” He was about to explain, but I cut him off.

“I didn’t tell you to do that! Who gave you the right?” I shot back.

But then I was caught short by the one person I did not expect to see this morning.

“I sent him, so get yourself together and meet me downstairs,” my father—the great Donald Blackwood—said, without waiting for anyone. He moved away and shut the door behind him.

“What the hell? It’s too early for this. It’s barely morning,” I gritted out, raking a hand through my hair.

“It’s twelve in the afternoon, young master…” Damon started, but I shot him a glare.

“Shut up, and get out. And I’ll say this once: don’t ever be on my bed if you weren’t part of my fuck list,” I snapped.

He grimaced and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

I sighed, rubbing my face.

“What does that man want this morning?”

“What?” I spat out the juice I’d just sipped as my father spoke the most dreaded words I’d heard in a long while.

“Do I have to repeat myself? I said you are getting married to Genesis Caldwell tomorrow.”

I gaped at him. He was definitely tripping. He had to be joking, right?

“Dad, you’re tripping. There’s no way I’m getting married to some random woman I don’t know tomorrow. Where is all this coming from?”

My father’s face was set in a frown, his gray eyes hard and cold as he looked at me with disgust.

“It’s coming from your disgusting behavior that I can no longer tolerate. You’ll do as I’ve said, or else you’ll be stripped of all your privileges—your money, the company, this very expensive penthouse, everything.”

What the hell was going on? Was this a nightmare? If it was, I needed to wake up. Now.

“Dad, you can’t do that,” I said, standing up and pacing. It felt like the whole world was crumbling under my feet.

“Oh yes, I can. So tomorrow, if you don’t show up at court, every one of your assets will be frozen.”

“Fuck!”

“I’m tired of your behavior. I can’t take it any longer. It’s time you man up. You’re almost thirty, and all you do is party like some party animal,” he said, dropping another bombshell. “If you want to inherit the company and everything else, you’ll marry this young woman and give me an heir.”

“An heir?” I gasped, my stomach turning. I never wanted kids or to settle down, and now this was happening to me in one day?

I approached the counter and gazed at the image of the young woman. To my astonishment, she seemed oddly familiar, though I couldn't quite place why.

“Dad, this girl is just a teenager! Isn’t that illegal? Am I really expected to marry a teenager?”

“No, I just don’t have a recent photo of her, but you should recognize her,” he replied.

I stood frozen, fixated on the picture.

“That’s Genesis Caldwell. You were close friends when you were little, though she was just a toddler back then.”

I shook my head in disbelief, yet there was something about her that tugged at my memory. She was stunning, but people change as they grow older. Would she even appeal to me now?

“I don’t remember her, Dad. Can’t you think this over? Please, I promise I’ll do better. Don’t put me in this situation,” I pleaded.

But he simply shook his head, rising from his chair and brushing off his suit. He cast one last glance my way, and I realized my destiny was set. I was to marry someone I barely knew—yet she felt like a ghost from my past.

As my father reached the door, he hesitated, turning back to me with a knowing grin.

“Tomorrow, Kier. You’ll remember her. And believe me, she won’t be easy to forget this time.”

The door clicked shut, and his words lingered in the air—heavier than any hangover I had ever experienced.