Chapter 1

When I was five, all I said was "I'm hungry," and my foster mother locked me in an abandoned warehouse.

She said I could come out when I learned to keep my mouth shut.

I never made a sound again.

When I was eighteen, the Moretti family on the East Coast found me.

They said I was Don Vincent Moretti's long-lost biological daughter.

The night I was brought back to the Moretti estate, Ava was packing her bags with red-rimmed eyes.

"Mia won't call me her sister. She doesn't want me staying in this family."

"You don't have to choose. I'll leave on my own."

I froze for a moment, then raised my hands to sign:

"That's not it. I just can't speak."

But no one understood sign language.

Ava bit her lip, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Mia, I know you hate me for taking your life for eighteen years."

"You can yell at me, hit me even—why won't you say a single word to me?"

My brother Luca stepped in front of her and turned a cold look on me.

"Ava's already backed down. How far are you going to push her?"

"Open your mouth right now and tell her she's welcome in this family."

Everyone in the living room was waiting for me to speak.

I stood silent for a moment, then pulled out my phone and slowly typed a line of text.

"I'm sorry. I haven't spoken since I was five."

The living room went dead quiet.

My mother Elena was the first to recover. She crossed the room in a few quick strides, her lips trembling.

"What do you mean? What do you mean you haven't spoken since you were five?"

I raised my hands, wanting to tell her that every time I tried to make a sound, all I could see was that lightless warehouse.

But she couldn't understand.

All I could do was lower my head and keep typing.

"I can't get the words out."

Luca frowned.

"When our people went to pick you up, your foster parents never mentioned this."

My fingers paused.

The day the Moretti family found me, my foster mother Linda Hayes had gripped my hand tight and sobbed in front of everyone until she could barely breathe.

She said she'd raised me and didn't expect anything from the Morettis—she only hoped I wouldn't forget her after I went home.

From start to finish, she never asked me a single question.

Because she knew perfectly well I couldn't answer.

Ava suddenly set down her suitcase and approached me carefully.

"Mia, I'm sorry. I didn't know you couldn't speak."

"I must have misunderstood you earlier. I'm sorry if I upset you."

She reached out to take my hand.

The instant her fingers touched my wrist, I flinched back a step.

Her eyes went red immediately.

"You don't even want me to touch you?"

Luca's expression, which had just begun to soften, turned cold again.

"Mia, Ava already apologized to you."

I looked at him and didn't move.

Elena placed a hand on his arm.

"Enough. It's Mia's first day home. Don't push her."

She wanted to touch my face, lifted her hand halfway, then seemed afraid of startling me. In the end, she only straightened my crooked collar.

"Tomorrow, Mom will take you to see a doctor. Whatever the reason, we'll take it slow."

I nodded.

That night, I slept on the softest bed I'd ever known, but I didn't dare turn off the light.

In the middle of the night, hushed voices drifted in from outside the door.

"Luca, do you think Mia might be pretending she can't talk because she doesn't want to acknowledge us?"

Ava's voice was soft, threaded with tears.

Luca was quiet for a while.

"We'll know after the doctor examines her."

"What if it's real?"

"Then we'll get her the help she needs."

"What if it's not?"

Silence outside the door.

After a moment, Luca answered flatly:

"The Moretti family has room for a sick daughter. Not for a liar."

The next day, the family doctor, Carter, finished his examination and removed his stethoscope.

"Her vocal organs show no significant abnormalities. This isn't organic aphonia."

"Based on her responses, it's more consistent with selective mutism caused by severe psychological trauma."

Elena's face went white.

"What kind of psychological trauma makes a child unable to speak for thirteen years?"

Dr. Carter glanced at the faint old scars on my wrist.

"That's a question for the people who raised her."

Standing by the door, Ava's expression stiffened for just a moment.