[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-my-useless-mute-beta-wife-is-a-big-shot":3,"chapter-my-useless-mute-beta-wife-is-a-big-shot-my-useless-mute-beta-wife-is-a-big-shot-chapter-32":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1854394,2460,"Chapter 32: Worried About Me....","my-useless-mute-beta-wife-is-a-big-shot-chapter-32",32,"\u003Cp>I surface from sleep like a man rising through dark water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Slow. Unsteady. Unwilling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My eyes open. Blink once. Twice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ceiling comes into focus—the same one I’ve stared at for years. Dim lights set into polished marble, their glow soft. Indifferent. They’ve watched me fall asleep a thousand times. They’ve never seen me like this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everything is where it should be. Everything is normal. Except for the weight on my chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Except for the warmth pressed against my side—like a second skin I never asked for.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I don’t remember falling asleep. The last thing I recall is his crying—soft, broken breaths against my shirt, settling somewhere beneath my ribs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unwanted. Persistent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then nothing. A blank space. Darkness swallowing everything whole.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And now—this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silas’s head still rests on my chest. Like something that landed without permission—and stayed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His arms are wrapped around my waist, fingers curled into my shirt, holding on with a grip that speaks of nightmares. Fear. Something else I don’t name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I look down at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His breathing is slow now. Steady. The frantic rhythm from before has settled into something deeper. Quieter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His lashes are dark against his pale cheeks—clumped, still tacky with dried tears, faint tracks marking his skin. His face presses into my chest, lips slightly parted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My shirt is damp where he cried into it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And my hand—my traitorous hand—rests on his back. Rising. Falling. With each breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like it belongs there. Like I let it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I push back. Quick. Too quick.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The movement jars us both. For a moment, I feel the pull of his weight—the way his body instinctively tries to hold on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I don’t let myself stop. I can’t.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I can’t believe I fell asleep like this. Letting him cling to me. Letting him use me like I’m nothing more than a pillow. Like this—my chest—is all I have to offer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I try to shift him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’s heavier than he looks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not muscle—no. There’s nothing formidable about his frame. Slender. Almost delicate. The kind of build that makes other Alphas look twice and think easy prey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My face tightens.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’s sleeping so peacefully. Like I’m nothing more than a place to rest. A warm body in the dark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My arm has gone numb beneath him. Not from weight—from stillness. From holding there too long. From not knowing what to do with someone who clings like that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I look at his face. Innocent. Untroubled. Untouched by whatever’s tearing through me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My voice comes out flat. Hard. \"Hey. Wake up.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He doesn’t move at first. Just shifts—a small sound slipping from his lips, somewhere between a sigh and a protest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His face brushes against my chest. Seeking warmth. Comfort. Something I don’t name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His grip tightens around my waist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What the hell is this...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’s getting on my nerves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My hand lifts to his cheek. I pinch. Hard enough to sting. Hard enough to wake him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His eyes fly open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wide. Unfocused. Caught between sleep and waking as his pupils slowly settle on my face. Confusion flickers. Then something else— guilt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Finally,\" I say, voice clipped. \"You’re awake.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He blinks at me. His hair is a mess—strands falling over his forehead, softened from sleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Don’t stare.\" I shift beneath him. \"Move. You’re heavy.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He straightens quickly—too quickly, like my words burned him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His hands retreat from my waist. The sudden absence of warmth leaves something cold in its wake. Something I don’t acknowledge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sits there. Hair messy. Eyes still glistening. Cheeks faintly flushed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I straighten. Stretch my arms above my head, working the stiffness from my shoulders, the numbness in my legs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My voice is cold when I speak. \"This is the last time. Don’t cling to me like that again. I warned you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I pause. Let it settle. \"Next time, I’ll throw you out of this house. Do you understand?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He nods. Slow. Careful. Like he’s afraid of getting it wrong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I look away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Now explain.\" My voice sharpens. \"What were you doing there?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He doesn’t answer. He never does. Instead, he reaches for the notebook and pencil on the table—his hands still trembling, the movement giving it away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He writes. Tears the page. Hands it to me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I take the note without looking at him. Force my eyes to the words.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I was texting you. You didn’t reply. I was worried. I asked Everic. He said you go to that club often, so I went there to find you. Before I could reach you—those men dragged me into the bathroom. Against my will.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My brows draw together. Anger rises—sharp, immediate. Familiar. Easy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worried about me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The paper crumples in my fist. I toss it aside and look at him. \"Are you stalking me now?\" My voice cuts. \"Like some typical wife?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shakes his head—quick, frantic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His pencil moves again. Faster this time. Another page. He holds it out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I take it. Rough. Look down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No. I wasn’t stalking you. I thought you might be drunk. I went there to bring you back. I was worried.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A laugh slips out—dry. Hollow. It cuts through the silence. \"Worried about me?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I crush the note in my fist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You should worry about yourself.\" My voice drops. Low. Controlled. \"If you follow me like that again—\" A pause. \"I’ll hand you over to them myself.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another beat. \"I won’t intervene.\" My gaze stays on him. \"I’ll let them do whatever they want.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looks down at his hands. His shoulders fold in on themselves—smaller. Quieter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worried about me. What a joke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I walk toward my room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My footsteps echo against the polished marble—heavy, deliberate. Each one putting distance between us.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then I stop. Suddenly. Irritatingly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I don’t want to turn back. Every instinct tells me to keep walking. To close the door. Let the silence swallow whatever this is.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before I think—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I turn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My voice is flat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Don’t go outside alone again. Take your guards. Or your secretary. I don’t care who. Just don’t go alone.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His head lifts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looks at me—those brown eyes wide, searching. Like he’s trying to understand something I’m not saying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he nods. Slow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My voice hardens. \"This is the last time. I won’t help you again.\" A beat. \"Do you hear me? I won’t come for you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He nods again. Small. Enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I turn. Walk through the doorway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seriously.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone who can’t even protect himself—Worried about me.\u003C\u002Fp>",1066,"2026-06-09T07:26:01.012Z",1,"novelbin.me","c1f9251e30d9e130fcba14d571abb649da0952e7c124c9a7e254622e230004d7","my-useless-mute-beta-wife-is-a-big-shot-chapter-33","my-useless-mute-beta-wife-is-a-big-shot-chapter-31",74,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-useless-mute-beta-wife-is-a-big-shot-cover.jpg"]