The Mute Mother's Return

The system faked my death so the heroine could successfully complete her mission.

When I opened my eyes again, six years had passed.

I stood on the street without a penny to my name. The story's hero and heroine were already living their perfect, happily-ever-after life. Meanwhile, I had just narrowly escaped a roaring fire, looking so pathetic I was even missing a shoe.

In a daze, I sent a text to Silas Hawthorne. "Can you come pick me up?"

The phone rang almost immediately.

But the voice on the other end did not belong to Silas.

The little boy fell silent for a moment before forcing a cold, detached tone. "Oh, another one pretending to be my mom."

Chapter 1

But he still came.

A passerby relayed my location. The breathing on the other end hitched.

Then came a soft, sweet voice, followed by a swift click. "Be right there."

I handed the borrowed phone back to the stranger, mouthing a silent thank you. A childhood fever had completely destroyed my vocal cords. Ever since then, I had lived in a quiet world, unable to utter a single sound.

A few minutes later, a sleek car pulled up to the curb. A little boy kicked his legs out and hopped down from the back seat. Carter Hawthorne.

The moment his eyes locked onto my face, they flickered. He kept his small features icy and composed, studying me in absolute silence. His gaze slowly drifted down to my bare foot.

I was a total wreck. Filthy. Covered in black soot.

I had just crawled out of a burning building, only to blink and find myself shoved six years into the future.

My fingers curled inward against my palms. A delayed wave of deep embarrassment washed over me.

I forced myself to look unfazed and raised my hands to sign. "I didn't mean to bother you guys. Could I just borrow a little cash? I will leave right away."

Six years had vanished. Silas and the woman he chose were living a flawless life. Even my own flesh and blood was calling someone else Mom.

A heavy, suffocating knot pulled taut in my throat. My chest constricted so sharply I had to remind myself to breathe. Halfway through my frantic signing, reality hit me.

Carter did not understand sign language.

I turned toward his driver to borrow a phone to type it out, but Carter frowned, his little hand reaching out to grab mine and pull me into the car. It was the peak of rush hour. I thought he was just annoyed by the relentless blaring of horns from the traffic behind us.

He kept his head turned, staring stubbornly out the tinted window without a word. I had no choice but to tap out my request on a phone and slide the screen into his line of sight.

Carter kept his face completely blank and asked with absolute seriousness. "How much do you need?"

I typed back quickly.

[0-0,000.]

Carter stared at those words for a long time. "Ten million?" he asked, sounding slightly unsure.

My vision actually swam for a second. I stared at him in utter disbelief, waving my hands frantically to stop him.

Carter pursed his lips, his voice dripping with childish innocence. "Is that not enough? I don't have that much on me. I will have Dad give it to you when we get home."

I tapped the glass screen so hard my fingertips bruised, desperately trying to type a correction.

He simply pushed the phone away from his face. His tiny voice sounded a bit muffled. "I don't know a lot of words. I can't read it."

How many words could a six-year-old realistically know? He perfectly understood the complex concept of borrowing money a minute ago, but now he suddenly could not tell the difference between a thousand and ten million. Defeated, I dropped my hands into my lap.

That was when I looked down and noticed Carter's shoes were on the wrong feet. He was wearing two completely different colored socks. Had he rushed out of the house in a panic?

A strange warmth tugged at my ribs. I pursed my lips, reaching out a finger to point at his feet to remind him.

He completely misunderstood my gesture. He tilted his head. "You want to hold hands?"

He scrunched up his face, looking incredibly put out, but his little hand reached across the leather seat anyway. "Fine. I guess I can let you hold it for a little bit."

Silas Hawthorne used to do the exact same thing when he was young. Back then, I was just a foster kid living in his massive house. Nobody gave a second glance to the little mute girl.

Silas had been kidnapped as a young boy, a nightmare that ended with both of his parents dead.

Chapter 2

Out of a chattering crowd of kids, Silas Hawthorne chose me. The clumsy, slow one. And just like that, the Thorne family rode my coattails straight to the top.

I found out later he only picked me because I was the quietest. I didn't make noise.

One night, a torrential downpour woke me. Then, a knock.

When I opened it, Silas was standing there, clutching a blanket. His jaw was tight. "You're scared of the thunder?" he enunciated carefully.

I stared at him blankly, about to shake my head.

He just clamped a hand on top of my head, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Got it. I suppose I can keep you company for tonight."

So stupid. Did he really think I couldn't tell he was the one terrified of the storm? People who are desperate for love rarely ever get it. I spent my whole childhood craving a single ounce of favoritism from my mother and got absolutely nothing.

The only time she ever praised me was the night Silas chose me. That was why Silas, who never truly belonged to me, was always destined to leave. A hollow ache settled right behind my ribs.

Six years ago, right before the fire, Savannah Cole showed me her future with Silas.

It turned out I was nothing but a toxic obstacle. The wicked other woman who trapped the hero in a messy one-night stand, secretly had his child, and planned to use the boy to extort a massive fortune.

In that predetermined future, I burned to death.

After I was gone, she saved him. They lived perfectly ever after. Even my own flesh and blood called a stranger Mom.

I felt entirely numb reading it. Was I really that repulsive in someone else's story?

Then the prophecy came true. The flames trapped me.

I shoved my baby through a narrow gap in the debris. A wall of fire roared up, cutting me off completely. Acrid smoke flooded my lungs. I blinked, and six years had simply vanished.

I was a mute. I couldn't whisper sweet nothings, and I couldn't scream obscenities. I couldn't even win a simple argument.

If I hadn't been backed into an absolute corner, if his number hadn't been the only one burned into my memory, I never would have reached out. We were never supposed to see each other again.

Now, a cold prickle of regret washed over me. I never intended to go back to the Hawthorne estate. I figured Silas would just throw a check at my face and tell me to get lost. In his eyes, that chaotic night was a calculated trap set by me and the Thorne family.

But the script had gone off the rails.

Panic pinned me to the leather seat. I wanted to tell them I didn't need the money anymore, that I wanted out of the car. But Carter had shoved the phone away, claiming he couldn't read. The driver kept his eyes locked straight ahead.

I sat completely paralyzed as the luxury SUV descended into the Hawthorne family's private underground garage. The air finally rushed back into my lungs when I realized Silas wasn't home. The driver casually mentioned he had flown overseas for a merger that morning and wouldn't be back until next week.

My old phone had been crushed in the fire.

The moment I slipped my SIM card into a brand-new device and held down the power button, the screen froze. An absolute avalanche of notifications poured in. I flinched back, startled.

A text from the carrier showed an astronomically high prepaid balance on my account. The rest of the missed calls and unread messages were almost entirely from one horribly familiar number.

I pressed my lips together and tapped the thread, scrolling from the top.

[Felicity Thorne, you sleep with me and just run?]

[I am not mad. Come out. Stop hiding.]

I checked the timestamps. Sent during the months the Thorne family locked me in an attic to carry the baby in secret. My phone confiscated. Entirely cut off from the world.

Chapter 3

[They said you died. I didn't believe them.]

[The Thorne family offered the kid for those commercial lots on the East Side. I signed them over.]

[How much do I have to pay to make you show up again?]

[The kid looks exactly like you.]

[Someone used your name today. They scammed Carter out of two hundred bucks.]

[You idiot. If you don't come back soon, someone is going to steal your son.]

The very last message in the thread was dated two years ago.

[Call me the second you read this.]

After that, nothing. Total radio silence. That must have been the exact moment Savannah Cole pulled him out of the dark. The moment Silas finally gave up on a ghost.

My eyelashes fluttered down. A crushing weight settled directly over my sternum, pinning my lungs flat against my ribs. I couldn't drag in a single breath, and I couldn't even explain why.

But I already knew.

While I was standing on the curb waiting for Carter earlier, I had looked up. A massive digital billboard wrapped around the corner of the mall. Savannah's face was plastered ten stories high, smiling flawlessly as the new global ambassador for Hawthorne Industries.

Hot moisture spilled over my lower lashes. I scrubbed at my cheeks with the back of my hand, but the wetness just kept coming.

It turned out the world really did keep spinning when you were gone. They had built a beautiful, flawless life together. Me dragging myself back from the dead was nothing but an ugly intrusion.

I was about to leave when Carter appeared, and by some twist of fate, dragged me right back to the Hawthorne estate.

I checked the balance on my banking app. Maybe the Thorne family thought the pathetic amount in my checking account wasn't worth the paperwork, or maybe they just truly forgot I existed. Either way, they never bothered to close my accounts after I burned alive six years ago.

Armed with enough cash to ease my panic, I decided to wire the money for the phone and the fresh clothes to one of the housekeepers. Then I was going to walk out the front door. If everyone was already perfectly happy, I wasn't going to ruin it.

I pulled the heavy mahogany door open. Carter flinched back. He had been standing right outside my room.

He lifted his chin, forcing that icy, aristocratic mask back into place. "Where are you going?" he demanded, his high voice straining for nonchalance.

I already had the text-to-speech app open on my new phone. I tapped the screen, letting the robotic voice echo in the quiet hallway.

[Thank you for everything. I am leaving now.]

Time was a terrifying, incomprehensible thing. The infant that used to wail against my chest was standing right in front of me, a walking, talking little boy.

His eyes blew wide. The rims turned a violent, raw red.

Panic completely shattered his composed facade as his little fingers lunged out and locked around my wrist. "No! You can't!" he yelled. "You still owe me money! You are not allowed to leave!"

The cold heir act was entirely gone.

I sank down to my knees until we were eye level. I reached out, my trembling fingers gently brushing through his soft, dark hair.

I had seen the prophecy. I had seen the ending where everyone got exactly what they deserved. Carter had Savannah. A perfect, beautiful mother to watch him grow up safe and happy.

He didn't have to deal with the calculating, bloodsucking Thorne family. And he definitely didn't have to carry the burden of a mute, unlovable mother.

I pressed the play button again.

[I will wire the money for the phone to your account.]

Carter glared at me. His grip on my wrist turned into a desperate, white-knuckled vice. He shook his head, his chest heaving as he sobbed so hard he couldn't catch his breath.

"Not that money. You texted me. You told me to send you two hundred dollars. I snuck out after school."

"I stood on the bridge and waited for you for so long. You lied to me. You never came."

The disjointed, messy confession slammed into my chest.

My mind flashed back to the text Silas sent. The scammer who had stolen two hundred bucks from a little boy. A sharp, agonizing burn clawed at the back of my throat. I lifted my hands, my thumbs gently sweeping the heavy tears off his soft, flushed cheeks.

I had to leave. If Savannah walked in on us now, the perfect lie would completely shatter.

Chapter 4

Savannah Cole was the new mother Carter adored. I could not let my existence drive a wedge between them. Maybe she and Silas would have their own kids someday. She would naturally have her favorites, but the first child was always different.

I refused to let her look at Carter with resentment or disgust just because of me. I needed to leave before Savannah walked through the door.

I barely turned around before Carter lunged. His little arms locked tight around my leg.

I swallowed down the sharp, acidic sting in my throat. I looked down helplessly at the little boy throwing a tantrum, but a rustling sound ahead caught my attention. I lifted my head on pure instinct.

My gaze crashed straight into a pair of pitch-black eyes.

A man stood at the far end of the long hallway, looking utterly exhausted. The freezing rain had completely soaked through his trench coat, and his voice scraped out, incredibly hoarse. "Felicity Thorne," Silas said. "How can you bully a kid?"

I had no idea when the rain had started falling outside the windows. Panic spiked in my chest. I frantically pried Carter's fingers off my pants and desperately peered behind Silas.

The space behind him was completely empty. A heavy breath rattled out of my lungs.

Carter immediately latched onto my leg again. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed at Silas. "Dad, hurry up and give Mom ten million dollars! If you pay her, she won't leave!"

Absolute confusion scrambled my brain. Silas leveled a deeply complicated look at me.

I clamped my lips shut, my hands flying up immediately to defend myself.

"I did not. I just wanted to borrow 0-0,000. Carter does not know sign language or know how to read. He got it wrong."

My fingers moved in a frantic blur of signs, terrified he would misunderstand.

Silas clearly caught every single word. He froze for a fraction of a second before letting out a low, inexplicable scoff. "Carter doesn't know sign language?" he repeated, his tone totally unreadable.

The tiny hands gripping my pant leg suddenly clamped down even harder.

Silas brushed right past the topic. He ordered the pouting, whining little boy back to his room.

Carter glared at him furiously. "Why should I? I was the one who brought Mom home. She even texted and called me."

"She came back because of me!" He literally could not resist bragging, even in the middle of a fight.

Silas lowered his eyes, studying the boy for a long moment. A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "If you hadn't secretly swapped my SIM card again, do you really think you would be the one picking her up?"

He reached down to pry Carter off me, but the kid refused to budge. "Fine. Ask her yourself. Ask her if she thinks you should go to your room."

Two intense stares snapped toward me at the exact same second.

My scalp prickled with anxiety. I averted my eyes on pure instinct, hesitating for an agonizing second. "Maybe I should just leave?" I signed.

Silas turned his head back. He stared at Carter with a deadpan expression and lied through his teeth. "See? She says it is getting late, and you need to be a good boy and go to sleep."

"You are lying! She clearly"

Silas cut him off. "Kids who don't understand sign language shouldn't make random guesses."

Carter's voice completely died in his throat. His lower lip jutted out. He looked up at me with massive, tear-filled eyes, but he finally kept his mouth shut.

Silas evidently read Carter's absolute reluctance. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me straight into his private study.

"This stubborn kid is not going to give up," he told me, his tone short and to the point. "Can you just wait in here for a minute?"

Silas crouched down in front of Carter. He murmured something far too quiet for me to catch.

Carter quieted down instantly. He threw a hesitant, secret glance in my direction, then obediently let Silas lead him away.

Complete silence crashed down around me. I finally snapped back to reality, listening to the steady, rhythmic sound of rain drifting in through the half-open French windows.

Chapter 5

The wind howled, violently sucking the sheer curtains out into the storm. Loose papers on the mahogany desk flapped wildly. I walked over and pulled the French windows shut, afraid the freezing rain would ruin his documents.

As I turned around, my elbow clipped a thick book on the shelf. It tumbled to the floor. A torn ten-dollar bill fluttered out from the title page.

My breath hitched. The second I saw that familiar, worn-out bill, I was instantly dragged back to that summer.

Silas Hawthorne was not nearly as icy to me then as he was when we first met. At some point, he had secretly learned sign language behind my back. I could still vividly remember the very first time his long fingers stiffly signed the words, "I got it."

His expression was completely bored and detached. He just stubbornly rationalized it. "Waiting for you to write everything down is a total waste of my time," he had claimed.

My eyes crinkled into a smile. I raised my hands, just about to sign my thanks.

The heavy storage room door burst open. "Who the hell does Silas think he is, walking around with that deadpan look on his face all day? He is just a miserable orphan relying on his trust fund to do whatever he wants," someone spat.

"Otherwise, nobody would give a damn about him! Just wait until old Richard kicks the bucket. Let us see if he acts so arrogant then!"

Silas leaned against the wall, his face completely blank. But the exact second they brought up his grandfather, a lethal chill swept across his eyes, his jaw locking tight.

The intruder had absolutely no idea Silas and I were hidden in the dark corner behind a massive stack of boxes. I recognized the arrogant voice instantly. It was Troy Kensington.

Tonight was Richard Hawthorne's birthday gala. Earlier in the ballroom, Troy had practically shoved a glass of champagne at Silas for a toast. Silas completely ignored it. He just clinked Troy's glass with his own tumbler of plain water and took a casual sip.

Troy had looked downright murderous walking away. This was clearly the fallout. But from what I had seen, Silas had not touched a single drop of alcohol all night.

He even toasted his own grandfather with water. Silas was not targeting Troy specifically. He was universally indifferent to everyone alive.

Everyone in our circle knew Silas was icy and quiet ever since his childhood kidnapping. Most people were used to it. I had no idea how Troy managed to twist that into a personal insult.

But Troy was not done. He immediately pivoted to me.

"And that mute girl from the Thorne family is just as bad. I invite her out a dozen times, and she avoids me like the actual plague. She is just a broken mute," Troy sneered. "Does she really think she is untouchable just because she latched onto the Hawthornes?"

I felt Silas tilt his head. His heavy gaze dropped to my face and lingered. I turned my head away, my heart doing a strange, nervous flutter against my ribs. I kept my face rigid and pressed my lips together.

Troy's cronies murmured in agreement, eagerly feeding his ego with petty revenge plots. They suggested accidentally spilling red wine all over my dress, or paying off a waiter to spike Silas's water with wasabi so he would choke in front of the entire gala.

Once Troy finally vented all his rage and slammed the door behind him, Silas casually stepped out of the shadows. He walked straight into the sprawling catering kitchen.

He sifted through the massive stainless-steel prep tables, looking deeply unimpressed. Without a single word exchanged, I just knew exactly what he was looking for. He wanted the wasabi.

I slipped past him and dug a handful of incredibly spicy peppers out of a corner crate. I tapped his shoulder and signed quickly. "They are out of wasabi. But these peppers are lethal," I signed. "Is pepper water okay?"

Silas lowered his dark eyes to look at me. He reached out, plucking the red peppers from my palm, and gave a lazy, low hum of agreement.

He flagged down two waitstaff, murmured a few low instructions, and then led me up the grand staircase to the second-floor balcony overlooking the ballroom.

It was easily the most entertaining moment of the entire night. Right in the middle of a formal toast with the elders, Troy violently choked, spraying his spiked drink everywhere. He stumbled backward, crashing straight into a massive champagne tower. A tidal wave of sticky alcohol drenched him from head to toe.

Chapter 6

The Kensington elders were absolutely mortified. They apologized profusely to the hosts and proceeded to rip Troy apart right there in the middle of the ballroom.

Right at the absolute peak of his humiliation, Troy snapped his head up. He finally spotted us standing by the second-floor railing, watching the entire trainwreck.

Silas tilted his head ever so slightly. He raised a single brow, lifted his glass of plain water in a mocking toast, and mouthed the words deliberately. "That is what doing whatever you want actually looks like."

A petty turf war between teenagers obviously could not escape Richard Hawthorne's radar. Silas could afford to be reckless. I could not