Chapter 1

The storm raged outside, howling winds slashing rain against the towering windows of the Blackwood mansion. In the vast estate, only one bedroom remained illuminated.

Olivia Sinclair sat propped against the headboard, her fingers tracing the pages of a novel as sleep threatened to claim her.

Without warning, the door burst open. Olivia startled, her gaze snapping up to meet the imposing figure of her husband, Liam Blackwood, framed in the doorway.

Liam stood there, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his striking features darkened by a scowl. Before Olivia could react, his lips crashed against hers, the bitter tang of whiskey mingling with the crisp scent of rain. His chilled fingers slid beneath her nightgown, gripping her thigh with bruising force despite her resistance.

"Don't move," he commanded, his voice thick with alcohol and something darker.

Olivia stilled instantly, pain radiating through her as muffled whimpers escaped her throat. Liam's frown deepened at the sound, and he clamped a hand over her mouth. Silenced, she clung to his muscular forearm like a lifeline in a tempest, her knuckles whitening with the effort. The storm within her only subsided when Liam finally released her and stalked toward the ensuite.

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, Liam's phone lit up on the nightstand. Against her better judgment, Olivia glanced at the screen flashing with a new message: "Liam, I'm sorry. Must you always run to your mute wife when we fight? It's killing me."

The light drained from Olivia's eyes. She would never master the art of playful banter or whispered confessions in the dark.

Childhood illness had stolen her voice, leaving only broken sounds that even her husband couldn't bear to hear.

Through the frosted glass, Olivia could make out Liam's tall silhouette. She quickly averted her gaze.

Emerging with a towel slung around his hips, Liam raked fingers through damp hair before fixing her with a glacial stare. "Did you look at my phone?"

Olivia tensed, shaking her head frantically in denial. She longed to explain it had been accidental.

But Liam's patience had evaporated. "Don't touch my things," he bit out.

Forcing a smile, Olivia bit her lip and nodded. She knew better than to expect Liam's affection. Their marriage had been Henry Winslow's dying wish - a union between his grandson and his ward. Liam had made it clear he'd only married her to honor his grandfather, not out of any desire for the silent girl he'd grown up with.

Five years of marriage had taught Olivia her place. She turned a blind eye to his affairs, terrified of becoming another burden.

Drawing a shaky breath, she gestured toward the kitchen, offering to fetch him warm milk. Unable to bear his indifferent stare, she fled the room.

Behind her, Liam picked up his phone and deleted the message without reading it.

Dawn found Olivia already in the kitchen. Liam's notoriously sensitive stomach demanded careful attention, and for years she'd risen early to prepare his breakfast.

When Liam descended the staircase, his gaze immediately found Olivia moving about the kitchen. The apron strings accentuated her slender waist, while the fading marks on her neck bore witness to last night's passion. She embodied the perfect wife - gentle, undemanding, never making scenes.

Something unreadable flickered across Liam's usually impassive face. "Join me for breakfast," he said, breaking their usual routine.

Olivia's face lit up as she nodded eagerly, signing her thanks. Slipping off her apron, she took the seat beside him - closer than usual. When Liam passed her a croissant, she accepted it with cautious delight.

"Richard's hosting the hundred-day celebration for his son tomorrow," Liam remarked casually. "You'll accompany me."

Olivia nearly dropped the pastry in shock. Public appearances together were rare. Her eyes darted with hesitation before she schooled her features.

"My assistant will deliver appropriate attire tomorrow," Liam continued. "Be ready by noon."

Olivia had no choice but to agree.

The Winslow family's influence in Newport meant Richard Winslow's celebration would be a lavish affair at the city's most exclusive hotel, already buzzing with anticipation.

Dressed in a champagne-colored gown with subtle makeup enhancing her delicate features, Olivia should have been radiant. Yet the glances thrown her way carried pity rather than admiration.

"How lucky to be mute yet marry so well," one guest whispered. "Perhaps if I stopped talking..."

"Don't be absurd," another scoffed. "Henry Winslow only took her in out of pity after her parents died. That's the only reason Liam married her."

Olivia's hands clenched at the unfairness, but her silent defense went unheard.

"Olivia! There you are!" A voice cut through the murmurs.