Chapter 2

My foster parents came that afternoon.

Linda Hayes rushed to my side the moment she walked in, grabbing my shoulders and looking me up and down.

"Mia, why are you still playing mute?"

"You're back with your real parents now—why are you pulling the same act you used on us?"

Elena was stunned.

"Playing mute?"

Linda wiped at her tears, the words tumbling out fast and frantic.

"She's been like this since she was little. The second she's unhappy, she stops talking and makes the adults guess what's wrong."

"When she was five, she stole money from us. We barely said a word to her, and she went silent out of spite."

"Every time there were other people around, she'd put on this pitiful act. But at home, the minute we told her to drop it, she could talk just fine."

My whole body went rigid.

That's not what happened.

When I was five, I didn't steal any money.

That day, Frank got drunk and knocked over the last bag of oatmeal and flour in the house. I was so hungry I went to the kitchen to ask Linda when we could eat.

She was annoyed by my crying, so she dragged me into the abandoned warehouse and locked me in for two full days.

I signed frantically.

"She's lying. She locked me in for two days. It was dark. There was no water, no food."

Linda couldn't understand, but she seemed prepared for this. She spread her hands toward everyone, crying.

"You see? This is what she does."

"Every time she doesn't want to admit she's wrong, she waves her hands around with these gestures nobody can read, making herself look like the victim."

Ava asked softly, "Mrs. Hayes, does Mia really speak when she's with you?"

"Of course she does!"

"Has anyone else besides you ever heard her?"

Linda's expression faltered for a second, then she raised her voice.

"We live under the same roof every day—do we need outsiders to prove it?"

"We raised her for eighteen years. Why would we deliberately hurt her?"

The ache in Elena's eyes slowly shifted into doubt.

My father, Vincent Moretti, was silent for a long time before he asked me quietly, "Mia, will you try to call me Dad?"

He was the Don of the Moretti family, the Boss that many people on the East Coast didn't dare look in the eye.

But in that moment, he was just standing in front of me, waiting for me to call him Father.

I opened my mouth.

My throat felt stuffed with a wad of dust-caked cotton. I couldn't push out even a whisper of sound.

Luca watched me for a long time.

"Can't, or won't?"

I took out my phone.

"I really can't."

Linda sighed.

"You'd better just go along with whatever she wants. She's very good at keeping adults on edge. The more attention you give her, the more she'll test you."

Elena suddenly asked, "Then what about the scars on her wrists?"

Linda's face changed.

"Kids get hurt growing up. What's strange about that?"

I quickly rolled up my sleeve.

Beyond the wrists, the inside of my arm bore round scars from cigarette burns and marks left by coarse rope rubbed back and forth.

Linda grabbed at my sleeve.

"What are you doing? There are people here!"

Elena's gaze fell on those scars. Her eyes went red instantly.

The tension in the room had turned unbearable when Ava suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air.

"Ava!"

Everyone rushed to her side.

The family doctor checked her and said it was just nervous overstimulation—nothing serious.

Ava leaned against Elena, still not forgetting to explain on my behalf.

"It's my fault for not being more understanding."

"Mia must have been hurt so many times in the past that she mistakes normal discipline for abuse."

One sentence. It explained away the scars for my foster parents, and turned my memories into exaggeration and revenge.

Before she left, Linda walked over to me and lowered her voice.

"Don't think that just because you're in the Moretti family now, you can dig up everything from the past. If you dare run your mouth, they took you in today and they can throw you out tomorrow as a fraud."

That evening, Elena told me she'd hired a professional sign language teacher.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk. You don't have to change. We'll learn to understand you."

In that moment, for the first time, I thought maybe coming here wasn't such a bad thing after all.

But outside the door, Ava watched me for a long time in silence.