The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract

sleep. It was a thick, wet heat that clung to her skin like plastic wrap. Her T-shirt was stuck to her back. She lay

as a nightstand. The screen was cracked, a spiderweb

2.

d down from the top of the scree

felt heavy, as if someone were sitting on her ribs. She pushed the blanke

frying oil and cigarette smoke. The air in the living room was e

applying a coat of bright pink nail polish, her fingers spl

aid. Her voice was scratc

Her throat felt tight. It alwa

"There's coffee. Don't ta

e pot. It was a printed photograph, grainy and low resolution. It showed a man w

this?" D

lined in smudged black liner. "That is Mr. Vane.

n. The man looked at least twen

l polish bottle with a sharp twist. "He's very stable. He

r. She put the paper down

Lydia said, her voice dropping an octave.

ms. She looked at Lydia, waiting for the pu

aid. "Tonight. Six o'clock

he words felt like stones

y against the floor. "Do you know how much it costs to keep you here? The foo

ff her airway. This was the Selective Mutism. It wasn't that she didn't want

She started counting her finge

at. "He wants a family. You give him a kid, he gives you a life. It's a fair trade.

door. She couldn'

as messenger bag fro

ress!" Lydia sh

ts of stairs and burst out onto the street. The Queens

us fare. Her shirt was already damp by the time she swiped

inding two quarters and a dime, and went to the

the car was broken. A man in a suit elbowed her into the corner near the door. T

at intensified. Som

t like the closet she used to hide in when her parents a

pped her thumb against her th

back on. The tra

y. She swiped her employee badge at the side entrance. The blast of c

sement. It was quiet here. It smelled of turpentin

as sitting at the next workbench, mixing pigments. She slid a pla

her hands shaking s

h mor

at a 19th-century oil painting of a storm at sea. There wa

awn said. Her voice was st

ned. "A date? With

sh. She dipped it into th

grinned. "Exciting.

é La

" Harper leaned back. "You have

t a date. It was an appraisal. She was a used car being drive

used entirely on the microscopic fibers of the canvas, weaving them back

around three. "The Holcomb family rep is coming thro

at people like her. They looked at the art. She was just p

lock, her p

late. Table 11

in the mirror. Her eyes were dark, framed by lashes that were naturally long. Her

s a wrap dress she had found at a thrift store. It was slightly

n was beginning to set, casting long

West Side. She couldn't afford another s

e stopped in front of a bridal shop window. The mannequin wore a dress that cost more

e glowing with warm, golden light. I

th. She smoothed the

told herself. Just

vy wooden door. The bel