Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 7: Chapter 7 Small happiness

As soon as she was in the elevator, she checked her phone.

Twenty-five thousand. Exactly twenty-five thousand. No message from Cedric. No buy something nice, no call me if you need more. Just the notification from the bank. Cold and transactional. Like an allowance given to a servant, which made her upset.

She quickly left the hospital, stepping out into the blazing sun. A taxi was waiting near the entrance. She climbed inside, typed the address of a mall on her phone, and showed it to the driver. He nodded. They drove.

Daisy watched the city pass by outside the window. She thought about what she needed to buy.

Underwear. Her old ones were frayed, the elastic stretched, the fabric thin from too many washes. She had been mending them secretly at night using a small sewing kit hidden under her mattress. If Jenna ever found out that the Evermont wife wore patched underwear, Daisy would never hear the end of it.

Bras. Her only bra was beige and shapeless, bought two years ago from a discount store. The wire had broken last week, poking into her ribs. She had bent it back into place with her fingernails.

Pads. Her period was coming in three days. She had two pads left. She couldn’t afford to run out again. Last time, three months ago, she had bled through her dress at a family dinner. Jenna had whispered loudly to the guest beside her: Some women have no shame. Daisy had sat in the bathroom for an hour, crying silently, waiting for the bleeding to stop.

Being a girl wasn’t easy. She had to take care of her long hair, washing it, brushing it, oiling it so it wouldn’t break. She had to take care of her skin, moisturizing, exfoliating, hiding the bruises. She had to take care of her body in ways that men never thought about.

Unlike guys, she had periods. Every month, without fail, her body punished her for not being pregnant. Cramps that doubled her over. Blood that stained her sheets. Mood swings that made her want to scream, but she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t make any sound at all. And men? Men had nothing. Men didn’t bleed. Men didn’t cramp. Men didn’t have to buy pads and painkillers and new underwear every few months. Men saved so much money just by being born male.

Daisy wished Cedric and all men had periods. Just for one month. Just so they understood. Those evil thoughts often circulated in her mind when she was upset and a bit angry.

Last time, during her period, Cedric had been upset about something at work. Daisy didn’t know what. He never told her anything. He just came home angry, his blue eyes cold, his jaw tight. He had looked at her, curled on the couch, clutching a heating pad, her face pale with pain, and said: The house is a mess. Clean it. Every room. Every floor. I want it spotless by morning.

Daisy had tried to type: I’m on my period. I’m in pain. Please.

He hadn’t looked at her phone. He had walked away.

And Daisy had cleaned the whole house. Every room. Every floor. Every bathroom. Every kitchen counter. She vacuumed the carpets, scrubbed the toilets, dusted the shelves, mopped the tile. All while her uterus cramped. All while blood soaked through her pad. All while tears streamed silently down her cheeks. She finished at 3 AM. Cedric forgot about it afterward. The servants watched and said nothing. Daisy collapsed into bed, still wearing her dirty clothes, and slept for four hours before waking up to do it all again.

❀┈┈┈┈❀

The taxi stopped at the mall.

Daisy paid the driver with shaking hands and stepped out. The mall was cool, air-conditioned, bright with artificial light. Women in beautiful clothes walked past her, carrying shopping bags from expensive stores. Daisy felt small.

She walked quickly to a women’s specialty department store on the second floor, one that was affordable, one where no one would recognize her. She grabbed a shopping basket and started walking through the aisles.

Underwear first. She found a pack of cotton panties, six pairs for a reasonable price. She touched the fabric. Soft and new. Stretchy elastic. She placed them in her basket carefully, like they were made of glass.

Bras next. She found a simple white bra, cotton, no underwire. Comfortable. Practical. Not pretty (Cedric would never see it anyway). But functional. She added two of them to her basket.

Then pads. She stood in the feminine hygiene aisle for a long time, comparing prices, counting how many she would need for three months. She finally picked a large box, nighttime protection, heavy flow, and placed it in her basket, covering it with the underwear so no one would see.

Her basket was full, but she still had money left. So she bought something for Grandpa, something for Margaret, some useful things she needed for herself, and some cheap clothes for her.

She felt happy for the first time in a long time after buying everything she needed. The happiness lasted exactly until she reached the fourth floor.

When the elevator doors slid open, Daisy froze.

Heavy security filled the hallway. Men in black suits stood at every corner, every door, every elevator. They lined the walls like statues, their faces carved from stone, their eyes cold and unblinking. Earpieces curled into their ears. Subtle bulges under their jackets suggested weapons.

Daisy recognized them immediately.

The same people she had seen when they first entered the hospital. The bodyguards. The ones who had almost pushed Cedric aside. The ones who had rushed a bleeding man through the lobby on a stretcher.

They were everywhere now. Blocking the hallway to the VVIP wing. Standing outside every patient room. Checking every person who walked past.

The atmosphere had changed. What was once a quiet, peaceful hospital floor now felt like a military zone. Tense. Dangerous. Charged with invisible electricity.

Daisy shivered.

Her small body trembled slightly as she stepped out of the elevator, clutching her shopping bags to her chest like shields.