The Day Silence Spoke novel Chapter 82

After all, Halston wasn't her own grandson, so Polly never really cared.

Yolanda scooped up the boy and shot Latisha a cold glance before turning back into the house. A light rain had begun to fall, and the rest of the family followed her inside, leaving Latisha standing alone on the damp pavement.

Santino bent down, gathering the scattered fruit from the burst bag. He collected them carefully and approached her.

“Latisha,” he said gently, “they’re all bruised. Do you still want them?”

Her gaze shifted to him. The same perfect smile was etched on his face—a polite, measured expression that kept everyone at arm’s length. It was a mask, hiding the real man beneath, a facade no one could penetrate.

Latisha accepted the bag with a nod of thanks. As she took it, her fingers brushed against his skin. Santino subtly moved his hand behind his back, his fingertips rubbing together as if savoring the fleeting touch.

When Latisha looked up, she caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes. She pressed her lips together. After a moment, she selected an unblemished apple from the bag and offered it to him.

Santino’s eyebrow arched. “For me?”

She nodded.

He chuckled softly and took the apple. “Thank you, Latisha.”

She lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around the handles of the bag.

“Come on,” Santino said, his tone casual. “Dad’s waiting inside.”

He led the way, and Latisha followed him in.

When Renata saw them enter together, her expression soured for a split second before her practiced smile returned.

“Santino, I think Jaden needs a diaper change,” she said, lifting the baby from his carriage and handing him over. “Could you take care of it?”

Wallace saw it too. His expression hardened, and the boy, sensing the shift in atmosphere, immediately scurried back to his mother’s arms.

“Yolanda, you need to get that child under control. He has no manners!”

Yolanda’s face paled. “He’s just a boy, Dad. I’ll teach him.”

“He’s seven! When Clifford was his age, he’d already mastered a foreign language. And look at your son.”

Yolanda forced a tight smile, unsure whether to be amused or infuriated. She couldn’t tell if Wallace was bragging or if he genuinely believed every child in the world should be a prodigy like Clifford.

Nearby, Polly’s lips curved into a proud smile. But the thought of her brilliant son being wasted on this mute girl quickly soured her mood. She turned to Latisha, her voice a low hiss. “Why are you standing there with a face like death? Go to the kitchen and help with dinner.”

Just then, Clifford’s call connected, and he heard every last word.