My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot! Chapter 42: Close Again

The hallway stretches before , long and gleaming, polished marble reflecting the chandeliers above like a thousand tiny suns trapped beneath my feet.

The Roselle mansion glows tonight—sa as every night—drenched in golden light that pretends to be warmth but never reaches the skin.

Servants press themselves against the walls as I pass, bowing at precise angles, their murmured greetings fading behind .

I don’t turn my head. Don’t slow my pace.

"Where is my father?"

"In the living room, sir."

Of course he is. Where else would he be? Sitting in his throne, nursing his wine, pretending the world bends to his will—while my mother strokes her Persian cat like it’s the only living thing in this house that still loves her.

I keep walking. The corridor breathes around —tall windows framing the night, gardens beyond swallowed in darkness, the faint scent of white roses drifting through the air.

Why did they call now?

Another lecture? Another eting I didn’t ask for? Or did Everic complain about again?

My fingers find the door handle. Cold brass beneath my palm. Familiar.

I push it open.

Let’s see what they have to say this ti.

The living room exhales warmth—not the warmth of welco, but the warmth of bodies arranged in familiar positions around familiar furniture.

Mom sits in her usual place, her Persian cat draped across her lap like a fur stole that breathes. Her fingers move in slow, rhythmic strokes—through the fur, over the ears, down the spine. The cat’s eyes are half-closed, purring sothing that almost sounds like contentnt.

Almost.

Dad sits beside her, wine glass balanced between his fingers, the dark red catching the firelight like sothing too close to blood. He doesn’t look at when I enter. He doesn’t need to. He knows I’m here.

Everic is here too.

And beside him—

Ken.

Of course.

My cousin. Less a man, more a fox wearing human skin. Clever in the way predators are clever. Sly in the way snakes are sly. We’ve been circling each other since childhood—him looking down, never needing to look up.

So they called here for him?

Seriously.

I have no patience for this.

I step forward. The cat lifts its head, blinks at , then settles back into Mom’s lap. Mom looks up. Her smile unfurls slowly—warm, practiced.

"Son. You ca."

They all look at . Everic—careful, neutral. Dad—still focused on his glass. Ken—with that smile that never reaches his eyes.

I return the gaze. Unimpressed. And let it settle over them like a cold front moving in.

Ken’s smile spreads slowly—like oil on water, sothing that shouldn’t be there. "Hey, Ellis." A pause, just long enough to land. "Long ti no see."

I don’t reply.

I cross the room and settle onto the couch opposite them. Calm. Deliberate.

I look at Dad. My voice is flat. Controlled.

"Why did you call ?"

Dad sets his glass down on the table. Slow. Careful. The clink echoes in the quiet. His eyes stay on the wine. Not on .

"Ellis." A faint sigh. "You’re forgetting your manners. No greeting?"

I lean back, letting the silence stretch.

"So you called here for greetings?"

Everic shifts in his seat, irritation cutting through his voice.

"Ellis—"

"It’s fine." Ken waves a hand, dismissive. "Everyone knows Ellis’s behavior is like this." His smile widens. "I know better than most."

I don’t look at him. My gaze stays on Dad. Dad still won’t et my eyes.

He’s hiding sothing.

His voice is calm when he speaks—too calm. "Why didn’t you bring Silas with you?"

"He was busy."

Ken sighs, just loud enough to be noticed.

"What a sha." He tilts his head slightly. "I really wanted to et your partner. I couldn’t make it to your wedding."

My gaze shifts to him.

Cold.

Sharp.

Ken’s smile is still there—fake, stretched thin across his face like a mask that doesn’t quite fit. But behind it—

His mind screams

{I want to see that Beta. The one who can’t even speak. A mute—standing beside Ellis, calling himself his partner. Let’s see how long that pride lasts.}

My eyes stay on him. Unblinking.

Just as I thought.

This bastard has nothing better to do than circle, waiting for sothing to break.

Ken tilts his head. Innocent. Poisonous.

"I hear your partner is from X Country." A pause. "I’m currently living there. Maybe we know each other. By chance."

I say nothing.

Everic shifts beside him, stepping in without realizing he shouldn’t.

"No, you wouldn’t know him." His voice is easy, unguarded. "His na is Silas. From the Stoneheart family."

Ken’s eyebrows lift. His smile shifts—still there, but sothing else flickers behind it.

"The richest family in X Country?"

Everic nods.

Ken looks back at . His smile returns. Wider now. Sharper.

"So Ellis’s partner is from the Stoneheart family." A pause. "How lucky."

His voice drops. Just slightly.

"But I hear he can’t speak." His tone softens. Almost sympathetic. "How unfortunate."

I stare at him. The room holds its breath. Then—

The living room door opens.

Everyone’s gaze shifts.

Mom and Dad’s faces light up—not the practiced smiles they give , but sothing warr. Real.

Footsteps echo on the marble.

Soft. asured. Familiar.

I don’t turn.

I already know who it is. I can feel him—his presence slipping into the room, quiet but impossible to ignore.

Everic’s voice brightens. "Silas is here."

Ken looks toward the door.

His eyes widen. His smile doesn’t just fade—it collapses, crumbling like paper held too close to fla.

Silas stops beside .

Mom’s voice is warm—warr than it ever is with . "Good evening, son."

A soft smile. A gentle nod.

Everic waves. "Hey, Silas."

Another nod. Another soft smile.

Ken stares.

His body goes still. Frozen—like he’s seen sothing impossible, sothing that shouldn’t exist in the sa world as him.

Silas sits beside .

No distance.

Close enough to touch. His shoulder almost brushes mine. His warmth bleeds through the inches between us, crossing borders I didn’t give permission to cross.

His hand slides into mine. Fingers threading through fingers. Palm against palm. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t hesitate. Just holds.

My expression falters—just for a second—as I look down at our hands.

What is he doing?

Dad gestures toward Ken, his voice easy, as if this is all perfectly normal. "Right on ti. Silas, et my nephew, Ken."

Silas lifts his gaze. The soft smile still rests on his lips—gentle, untroubled, untouched by the tension thickening the air.

Every gaze shifts from Silas to Ken.

Ken doesn’t move. His face pales. His jaw slackens. His hands tighten around the arms of his chair, like he might lose balance if he lets go.

Then—

He stands. Abrupt. Jerky. Like a puppet with tangled strings.

"I need to go." His voice cos out thin, scraped raw. "I just rembered sothing urgent. Apologies." He’s already moving toward the door. "We’ll et again."

Before Dad can respond—before anyone can speak—

Ken excuses himself. Walks out. The door closes behind him with a soft click that feels louder than it should.

Everic blinks. Confusion flickers across his face. "What happened to him?"

No one answers.

I don’t look at anyone.

My gaze stays on Silas. On our joined hands. His fingers are warm around mine. Steady. Certain. His thumb moves—slow, deliberate—across my knuckles.

I told him to stay away. I told him to keep his distance.

And here he is.

Close again.