Chapter 1

During my piano finals, my husband's first love deliberately broke my cochlear implant.

I confronted her, but my husband shoved me away without hesitation.

"Sienna didn't mean it. Can you stop being so petty?"

He called me narrow-minded and said I needed to be taught a lesson.

He hid my broken sound processor, leaving me unable to hear or purchase a plane ticket.

He told me that if I wanted to return to the States, my only option was to hide inside a cargo crate.

Trapped in that crate, I suffocated as sharp, agonizing cramps tore through my abdomen.

I was only saved when airport security spotted blood dripping from the box.

I suffered a miscarriage.

I knew right then that this marriage had rotted to the core, so I served Carter the divorce papers immediately.

A cold-blooded man like him wasn't worth keeping.

When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed.

Seeing me open my eyes, my mother didn't offer a word of comfort. Instead, she signed at me with utter disgust: "Why is your body so weak? You were almost at your destination, and you couldn't even keep the baby!"

My ears buzzed with silence, but I caught every cruel word from her hands.

I... miscarried?

I reached down to touch my abdomen. Just yesterday, it had a small bump, but now it was completely flat.

I dialed Carter's number, and he picked up after two rings.

I held the phone to my ear, but hearing nothing, I suddenly remembered that Sienna had smashed my cochlear processor.

I opened SnapChat to text him, only to find our chat history had been completely blank for three days.

Still, I sent him a message: "Can you please return my processor? My next competition is coming up, and I need to get it repaired."

He didn't reply, but a few minutes later, Sienna posted an Instagram story.

Even through the cold screen, her smug excitement was sickeningly obvious.

"A custom necklace made especially for me by someone special. Best gift in the entire world!"

The photo showed a necklace adorned with fragments torn straight from my broken cochlear device.

My sound processor was custom-built, fine-tuned through dozens of doctor visits.

Yet the day before my competition, Sienna bumped into me by the restroom sinks, kicked my device to the floor, and crushed it beneath her heels.

With the competition starting in mere hours, I was plunged into total silence.

Furious, I grabbed her collar: "Why did you destroy my device?!"

Before I even used any force, she burst into dramatic tears. Her lips moved frantically, but I couldn't hear a thing.

Before I could demand answers, a violent shove slammed me against the wall. My head cracked against the plaster, sending dizzying waves of pain through my skull.

My husband, Carter, shielded Sienna behind his back, his face twisted in anger as he signed at me: "Why are you bullying Sienna? Don't think having a disability gives you the right to act superior!"

Frustrated and heartbroken, I tried to defend myself: "She broke my processor! I just want her to pay for it. My competition is about to start!"

I thought my husband would stand by me, but a mocking smirk spread across his face.

"Do you honestly think a deaf girl can become a concert pianist? Stop dreaming. Sienna crushed your device to save you from humiliating yourself on stage. You should be thanking her."

"Besides, she didn't mean to do it. Do you really have to be so vindictive over an accident?"

Because of that sabotage, I couldn't hear the orchestra and was disqualified, watching my dream trophy slip through my fingers.

To punish me for questioning Sienna, Carter confiscated my broken device, claiming he needed to teach me a lesson.

He told me the only way he'd transport me back home was if I hid inside a wooden shipping crate for a washing machine.

Desperate to make it back in time for another prestigious national competition scheduled months ago, I swallowed my pride and agreed.

During the journey, excruciating cramps tore through my lower abdomen, and I felt warm fluid running down my legs.

Suffocating in the dark, airtight box, I slipped in and out of consciousness, too weak to even scream for help.

If the security inspectors hadn't noticed the blood pooling beneath the crate, both my baby and I would have died right there.

Clutching my phone, tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

While I was fighting for my life in a coma, Carter had spent every waking moment catering to Sienna.

My trembling hands typed out a message: "Carter, let's get a divorce."

Seeing the text, my mother snatched the phone from my hand and slapped me across the face.

Poking my forehead with contempt, she signed aggressively: "You're nothing without Carter! Leo's getting married soon, and his entire future depends on Carter's support. You are not divorcing him!"

She scrambled to delete the text, but the time limit had already passed.