Mafia Don’s Little Silent Wife Chapter 07

Mafia Don’s Little Silent Wife Chapter 07

I didn’t ask her directly.

I always operated on one core principle: never speak on what isn’t certain.

Once spoken, it’s a final verdict.

I needed more proof.

Over the next two weeks, I started setting up small tests.

Nothing forced, nothing obvious, just woven into our daily routine.

The first test.

Standing about six feet behind her, I intentionally let my phone drop to the floor.

She was flipping through a book.

The sound of the phone hitting the ground was sharp in the quiet living room.

She didn’t turn around.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

No reaction.

Fine. Maybe she really didn’t hear it.

Or maybe her impulse control was much stronger than I gave her credit for.

The second test.

I sat opposite her reading the newspaper and suddenly said, “I’m going to sell you to Costa.”

My tone was as flat as if I were reading a headline.

She was peeling an orange.

Her hands didn’t pause, and her expression didn’t change.

But I caught one detail.

The thumbnail she was using to peel the orange dug into the rind just a fraction deeper than normal.

It could have been a coincidence or a split-second subconscious reaction.

The third test was the deciding one.

Vincent came over to report on business that day.

I had Bianca stay in the living room while Vincent and I stood talking by the study door.

She was on the couch, about fifteen feet away.

Once Vincent and I finished discussing business, I suddenly lowered my voice.

“Tomorrow, take Bianca to a private clinic for a full hearing exam.”

Vincent blinked, not quite registering it yet.

I wasn’t looking at Bianca; I kept my eyes on Vincent.

But out of the corner of my eye, the rhythm of the pages turning on the couch shifted.

Originally, she turned a page every three or four seconds.

After I said that sentence, the page in her hand held still for about six seconds before turning.

The interval had nearly doubled.

I told Vincent to forget it and turned back into the study.

Before closing the door, I glanced across the living room.

Bianca sat there looking completely normal, but she had lifted the book slightly higher, shielding the lower half of her face.

I shut the door, leaned my back against the panel, and closed my eyes for a few seconds.

Damn it.

She could hear.

It wasn’t that she heard everything perfectly like a normal person, but she absolutely wasn’t the completely deaf younger daughter the Romano family claimed her to be.

Every single word I had muttered in front of her over the past seven months—the curses, the complaints, the frustrations.

The comments like “why are you so soft,” “little silent wife,” and “you look good in this.”

The reckless, unfiltered things I blurted out late at night when the alcohol hit.

The secrets were shared only because I thought no one was listening.

She heard all of it.

Every single word.

Every scene from the last seven months replayed in my mind.

“Why are you so soft everywhere?”

“Coming out in the middle of the night wearing so little, are you doing this on purpose?”

“I think I’m actually falling for you.”

Son of a bitch.

I slammed my fist against the door.