Unspoken Hearts: My Neglected Mute Wife’s Escape

Chapter 1207:

Clayton took his time, moving with an air of unshaken confidence as he placed a symphony record on the turntable. The melody filled the room, rich and smooth.

Clayton poured himself a glass of red wine, the deep crimson liquid swirling in the crystal glass. Sinking into the leather sofa, he let himself relish the moment, basking in an aura of calculated calm.

Fear of discovery never crossed his mind. First, Sarah wouldn’t dare reveal the truth. Second, even if Kallie grew suspicious, he knew she wouldn’t look in his direction.

His goal wasn’t something as crude as murder. He solely wanted to drive an irreparable wedge between Kallie and Jake.

Just then, the butler appeared, his steps hurried but measured as he bent to whisper in Clayton’s ear.

“Mr. Morgan, someone is here.”

Clayton opened his eyes, his calm demeanor unwavering. A faint smile played on his lips as he asked, “Is it Kallie?”

The butler’s expression darkened with worry. His voice was low, almost tense.

He brought people with him, and they seem aggressive, not

he had anticipated. Typical.

Clayton’s lips, cold

stop them. Let them in.” He paused, his smile sharpening

find a chance

source for

butler nodded but hesitated,

think they’ll leave peacefully. Mr. Morgan, should I call for

a hum of satisfaction than

causes trouble. Let him come. Don’t fret. He won’t kill me. His temper is

his lips, the door was

into the room slowly, each tap of his expensive shoes echoing against the cold floor.

betrayed no emotion. Only his icy glare spoke volumes. If his gaze had the power to kill, Clayton would have been nothing but ashes

eyes locked on Clayton, who lounged in his chair with infuriating ease. A wave of anger churned within Jake,

Jake lowered himself onto the sofa, his movements calculated, and cast a disdainful

nonchalance almost mocking. He made a small gesture, and the butler hurried to pour Jake a drink. Jake studied the glass of wine as though it were a weapon. He didn’t