Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 51: Chapter 51 Hunger

The photo was taken in sunlight, golden hour maybe. The light was soft and warm, casting long shadows across the ground. In the corner of the photo, Daisy could see a shadow. Someone had been clicking the picture. The shadow showed long hair, a girl maybe.

Daisy zoomed in on the shadow but could not see a face, just the outline and shape. Who was that? Who had taken the photo? Why was it the only one on her profile?

She scrolled down further. No other posts, no comments, no messages. Just the profile and the thirty thousand connections.

Daisy closed the photo and checked the old resume attached to the profile. It was different from the one Penny had made. This one focused on her B. Voc degree, on her voice training, on her communication certificates, on her experience with documentaries. The details were sparse, but the resume made her sound like a voice artist.

Daisy touched her throat. She could not narrate anything now. She could not even say hello.

She stared at the screen, thinking. Should she use the old profile, the one with thirty thousand connections, the one that proved she had been someone important before the accident? Or should she start fresh with the new resume, the one that focused on perfumery?

If she had such a successful profile, why waste time making a new one? Thirty thousand people had followed her. That meant she had been good at whatever she did.

She updated the old profile, added her new skills, tweaked the bio and made it current. Then she started sending requests.

Big companies first. Names that made her hands tremble as she typed. She sent her profile, held her breath, and moved on. Then she thought about her lack of recent experience. Big companies might not look at her, so she sent requests to smaller companies too, startups and boutique fragrance houses, places that might take a chance on a mute girl like her.

She worked for hours.

Finally, it was late afternoon. The sun had shifted, no longer streaming through her window but casting long shadows across her small room. Daisy closed her laptop, stretched her arms above her head, and her stomach growled.

She had not eaten since yesterday.

She stepped out of her room and walked downstairs. The mansion was too quiet, and the silence made her skin prickle. She walked to the kitchen.

The kitchen was empty. No servants, no chef. No food on the counters, no pots on the stove. Daisy opened the refrigerator. Empty. A few condiments, a jar of pickles. Nothing she could eat.

She opened the pantry. Empty. Some spices, some tea bags, a coffee jar. No bread, no fruit, no vegetables. Nothing she should eat.

Her face fell. She knew her mother-in-law was doing this deliberately. Jenna always did this when something made her unhappy. Remove all the food from the house, tell the servants to take everything, leave Daisy with nothing. It was a punishment. For what, Daisy did not know. For breathing, maybe. Just for existing.

Daisy closed the pantry door and leaned against the counter. Her stomach growled again, louder this time. She could not bear hunger. She had tried before. She had gone days without food when Jenna was angry. Her head had spun, her vision had blurred, her hands had shaken so badly she could not hold her phone.

She walked to the front gate. The security guard was sitting in his small booth, reading a newspaper. He looked up when she approached.

"Sorry, ma’am. You cannot go outside without permission."

Daisy pointed at herself, then at the gate, then made an eating motion with her hand.

I need food. I am hungry.

The guard shook his head. "Orders from Mrs. Evermont. No one leaves without her say so."

Daisy’s shoulders dropped. She knew this was useless. She knew the guards followed Jenna’s orders. She knew she was trapped. She could not order takeout either. There was a house rule. Jenna had made it years ago. If you are at home, you should only eat home-cooked food. Takeout was not allowed. Takeout was for lazy people, for people who did not respect the family.

Daisy had watched Jenna order takeout for herself many times. The rule did not apply to Jenna. It never applied to Jenna.

She turned away from the gate and walked toward the garden. The grass was green and fresh, untouched by feet or machines. Daisy looked around. No servants, no guards, no one watching.

She bent down and picked some grass. Not a lot, just a handful. Just enough to fill her stomach. She cupped the grass in her palms and ran back inside, through the living room, up the stairs, down the hallway, straight into her small room.

She closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it. Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking. She walked to her small sink and washed the grass. The water ran green for a moment, then clear. She shook the excess water off and looked at the small pile in her palm. Green, fresh and clean.

She ate it. One handful, then another, then another.

Finally, her stomach was happy.

Daisy sat on her bed and looked at her hands. Bits of grass clung to her fingers. She wiped them on her dress.

—At Night—

She heard the front door open. Then slam.

Daisy flinched. The sound echoed through the mansion like a gunshot, bouncing off the floors and high ceilings, reverberating through the walls. She heard heavy footsteps in the foyer. Then on the stairs, then in the hallway, coming closer.

Cedric.

She knew his footsteps. She had learned them over the years, the way a prisoner learns the sounds of their jailer. The way he walked when he was tired. The way he walked when he was angry. The way he walked when he had been drinking.

Tonight, he was angry.

Daisy set her phone on her side table. She smoothed her dress, running her palms over the fabric to flatten the wrinkles. She tucked her caramel hair behind her ears and folded her hands in her lap. She waited for him.