Chapter 1

While my fiancé accompanied me to a boutique to try on wedding dresses, fate decided to show its cruel hand.

That’s when we bumped into her—his beloved childhood sweetheart.

She greeted me with a sickeningly sweet smile, her eyes scanning me like I was something she scraped off her shoe. Before I could even say a word, Dante grabbed her arm and pulled her aside, speaking in a hushed, urgent tone.

“We’re already engaged. Don’t make a scene.”

But she wasn’t one to be easily silenced.

She brushed past him and came straight to me, her voice loud enough for the entire store to hear. “So, you’ve got time to playhouse with your fiancée, but not enough to see me and your baby?”

My breath caught.

Dante quickly signed up to me, his fingers moving fast. She’s wishing us a happy marriage.

His eyes sparkled with a calm smile as he looked back at her like she hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb.

“If she hadn’t saved me, I’d be dead,” he whispered to her. “Give me seven more days. After the wedding, I’ll cut ties with her—for good. It’ll just be you, me, and the baby.”

What he didn’t know…Was that I could hear everything.

My hearing and memory had fully returned three days ago.

And I’d already uncovered the truth.

I’d resubmitted my application to return to the force, and it was approved. No one knew. Not even him.

Still playing the part of the perfect bride, I nodded gently as Dante continued to dote on me, guiding me toward the racks of dresses like nothing had happened.

His gaze was full of love—too full. Like he was trying too hard.

“Wife,” he said, lifting a sleek black suit. “Think this matches your dress?”

I was about to answer when she chimed in.

“It doesn’t match,” Stella said, her tone sugary with just the right amount of poison. “My dress is pink and white. You should wear something that compliments it—like a white suit.”

Dante immediately put the black suit back. “Whatever you say.”

Then he turned to me and signed. What do you think?

I didn’t answer. I just nodded, keeping my face neutral, while inside, a storm was brewing.

He told me to wait in the lounge, saying something urgent had come up. Stella Anderson, of course, trailed after him like a shadow.

A few minutes later, a muffled gasp echoed from the fitting room area.

I shot to my feet and rushed over.

No sign of them.

Then, as I passed the VIP room, I froze.

The door was cracked open.

Through that sliver of space, I saw him—Dante—pinning Stella against the wall, his lips devouring hers.

“Husband… I can’t breathe,” she moaned breathily.

“You followed me here,” he said, voice low and full of heat. “Didn’t you come because you wanted this?”

He brushed her hair aside, lips grazing her neck before sinking his teeth into her skin.

Stella whimpered, clutching his hand as it slid up her thigh. She was all breathy sighs and faux modesty.

“Careful… the doctor said the first trimester is delicate.”

Dante chuckled and scooped her into his arms like she was weighing nothing. He dropped her onto the velvet sofa and shrugged out of his jacket.

“Husband knows what he’s doing,” he murmured, hovering over her. “I won’t hurt you or the baby.”

She melted under him, no longer pretending to resist.

“Neriah Vale doesn’t deserve you calling her ‘wife,’” she breathed, her legs wrapped around his waist. “Call me wife. Whisper it in my ear like you mean it.”

He didn’t respond.

So she pouted and hissed, “What can a deaf girl hear, anyway? Say it already.”

Dante finally whispered the words, over and over again, like a prayer.

“Wife… I love you.”

I covered my mouth to stop the scream clawing its way up my throat. My lungs burned. My heart twisted violently.

I stumbled back to the lounge, legs barely holding me up, and collapsed onto the sofa. Tears blurred my vision.

The store clerks, thinking I couldn’t hear, didn’t bother lowering their voices.

“President Crowhurst and Stella Anderson are perfect together. That other woman? Just a sidepiece who doesn’t know her place.”

“Didn’t you know? President Crowhurst had the VIP room redesigned just for Miss Anderson’s bridal fitting.”

Their words were cruel, venomous. Then—splash!

Scalding water hit the tops of my feet, turning the skin angry red.

“Serves you right! Mistresses deserve worse,” one of them sneered before typing on her phone and shoving the screen in my face.

[Sorry, Miss Vale.]

I didn’t know how long I sat there—shaking, broken, humiliated—before they finally emerged from the room.

Stella looked smug, her neck and chest flaunting hickeys like badges of victory.

Dante moved to block my view, shielding her body from me like that somehow erased what had happened.

He signed again. “Go try on the dress you liked. I’ll buy it for you, anything you want.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

Then he noticed the redness on my feet and snapped at the staff.

I clutched his arm weakly, barely keeping it together. “I don’t feel well. I want to go home.”

His face immediately shifted to concern. He rushed me to the hospital and demanded a full check-up.

The doctor said I was fine.

That’s when Stella placed a delicate hand on his chest. “Babe, why don’t you come with me to my prenatal checkup? The baby misses you.”

He hesitated. For a split second.

Then he turned to me and signed. You should head home first. I have a work meeting to take care of.

Before I could respond, Stella had already looped her arm around him, tugging him away.

He didn’t look back.

Not once.

I went home alone.

And that’s when the police station called.