Silence settled briefly—tense for them, suffocating for me. Then I heard it. A faint sound behind me. Lips brushing together. A quiet kiss.
My heartbeat stopped.
They really believed I couldn’t see.
Sabine let out a soft giggle, and Nikolai murmured something low, his hand brushing her arm just behind me.
I forced another smile. “Dinner smells wonderful,” I said, still pretending.
Nikolai squeezed my hand lightly. “Anything for you, love.”
For the next few days, I continued the act — the obedient, blind wife. I let them think they were untouchable. Sabine followed me around, her voice dripping with fake concern, but when Nikolai wasn’t nearby, her words turned cruel.
“Poor Sienna,” she would sigh. “It must be miserable… being so helpless.”
One day, she stretched her leg out while I was walking down the stairs, trying to make me fall. I stumbled deliberately, pretending to panic, though I had seen it clearly. I managed to grip the railing in time.
That moment changed something inside me.
The following afternoon, we walked down the same staircase. This time, I “accidentally” brushed against her arm. Sabine lost her balance and fell. The sharp crack of her ankle echoed, followed by her scream.