Chapter 1

I have mutism.

When I was five, I said I was hungry. My adoptive mother locked me in an abandoned wine cellar on the family estate.

She said I could come out when I learned to shut up.

After that, I never spoke again.

When I was eighteen, the Moretti family found me. They said I was their long-lost real daughter.

The night I came home, the fake heiress Isabella packed her bags with red eyes:

"You won't call me sister. That means you don't want me in this house."

"Don't make this hard. I'll leave on my own!"

I froze. I raised my hands and signed:

【No. I just can't speak.】

But no one understood sign language.

Isabella bit her lip and teared up again:

"Sister, I know you hate me for stealing eighteen years of your life."

"You can curse me, hit me—why won't you say one word to me?"

My brother Marco stepped in front of her and looked at me coldly:

"Isabella already backed down. How far are you going to push her?"

"Tell her right now that this family has room for her!"

Everyone waited for me to speak.

I stayed silent for a moment, then took out my phone and slowly typed:

"Sorry. I haven't spoken since I was five."

The living room went quiet.

My mother was the first to react. She walked up to me, lips trembling.

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

I raised my hands. I wanted to tell her that every time I tried to make a sound, I saw that lightless wine cellar.

But she couldn't understand.

I could only lower my head and keep typing.

"I can't."

My brother Marco frowned. "When we found you, your adoptive parents never mentioned this."

My fingers paused.

The day the Moretti family found me, my adoptive mother Marta held my hand tight.

She cried in front of everyone.

She said she'd raised me like her own. She didn't want anything from the Morettis. She just hoped I wouldn't forget her.

The whole time, she never asked me a single question.

Because she knew I couldn't answer.

Isabella suddenly set down her suitcase and walked over carefully.

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

"It must have been me. I misunderstood you and made you upset."

She reached for me.

The second her hand touched my wrist, I stepped back.

Her eyes reddened immediately.

"Sister still won't let me touch her?"

Marco's face had just softened. Now it went cold again. "Sophia, Isabella already apologized."

I looked at him and didn't move.

My mother pressed his arm. "Enough. Sophia just came home today. Don't push her."

She wanted to touch my face. Her hand stopped halfway, as if afraid of scaring me.

In the end, she only straightened my crooked collar.

"Tomorrow Mom will take you to the family clinic. Whatever the reason, we'll treat it slowly."

I nodded.

That night, I slept in the softest bed I'd ever felt.

But I didn't dare turn off the light.

In the middle of the night, I heard low voices outside the door.

"Marco, do you think sister just doesn't want to call you, so she pretends she can't speak?"

Isabella's voice was soft, tearful.

Marco was quiet for a moment. "We'll know after the doctor examines her."

"And if it's real?"

"Then we'll cure her."

"And if it's fake?"

Outside, it went quiet.

A moment later, Marco answered coldly:

"The Moretti family can accept a sick daughter. Not a liar."

The next day, Dr. Ricardo finished my exam and took off his stethoscope.

"Her vocal organs show no obvious abnormalities. This isn't pathological mutism."

"Based on her behavior, it's closer to psychogenic mutism caused by severe psychological trauma."

My mother's face went pale. "What kind of trauma makes a child stop speaking for thirteen years?"

Dr. Ricardo looked at the faint old scars on my wrist.

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

Isabella stood by the door. Her expression froze for a moment.