CHAPTER ONE

{Ava’s POV}

“Mrs. Cole, you’ve been standing by that window for hours now. Please, you need to sit down. You’re nine months pregnant—it’s not safe. You should be resting more.”

I turned slowly from the window, my hand instinctively cradling my swollen belly.

Martha, our housekeeper, stood in the doorway with that same worried expression she always wore when she looked at me. I wished I could tell her what was churning inside me—I wish I had the voice to clearly communicate the mixture of fear, hope and desperation clawing its way at me.

But Martha had never learned sign language, and I was too exhausted to fumble with my phone right now.

So I did what I always did. I shook my head, waved her off gently, and turned back to the window.

Waiting…like I had been waiting for three hours.

But no matter how long I stood there, and watched and prayed…the driveway remained empty.

No sign of a sleek black car, and no signs of Adrian.

I pressed my palm against the cool glass, my reflection staring back at me—pale, tired, alone. The doctor’s words from this morning echoed in my mind: “You need to come in today, Mrs. Cole. The baby could arrive any moment now, and we need to keep a close eye on you.”

Any moment now.

And where was my husband? Where was the man who had promised—promised—to be there when our child came into this world?

I closed my eyes and whispered to my baby, my voice barely audible even to myself. “Your daddy will come. He promised. He’ll be here for you.”

Even if he won’t be here for me. At least that I was sure of.

The sound of tires on gravel made my heart leap. I opened my eyes and saw it—his car pulling into the driveway. Relief flooded through me so intensely that tears pricked my eyes. He came. He actually came.

I moved as quickly as my pregnant body would allow, one hand on my belly, the other steadying myself against the wall as I made my way to the foyer.

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, Adrian was already walking through the door.

God, he was beautiful. Even exhausted, even with that perpetual coldness in his eyes, Adrian Cole was the most devastatingly handsome man I’d ever seen. Dark hair slightly disheveled, sharp jawline tight with tension, those piercing grey eyes that once looked at me with concern at that party a year ago—before everything went wrong.

I rushed toward him, my hands already moving in sign language.

The doctor said we need to go to the hospital today. The baby…

But before I could finish, he walked right past me.

As if I were invisible.

As if I were nothing.

My heart cracked, but I followed him anyway, my hands still signing desperately.

I had to make him understand. Our baby could come any minute. He needed to know…

“I’m tired, Ava.” He snapped, his voice sharp. He didn’t even turn to look at me. “Why must you always disturb me the second I walk through the door?”

I reached out, touching his arm gently, signing with my other hand. Please, just listen—

He jerked away from my touch like I’d burned him.

“Martha!” he called out, his voice echoing through the house. “Get me a cup of coffee.”

My hands moved quickly. I can make it for you. Please, just let me—

“I asked Martha to do it, not you.” His eyes finally met mine, and the disgust in them nearly brought me to my knees. “If you actually want to be helpful, get out of my way so I can stop staring at your godforsaken face every damn second.”

My hands froze mid-sign, trembling in the air between us.

His words cut through me like glass shards, each one finding a home in my already shattered heart.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to ask him how he could be so cruel.

But even my signs—my only voice—meant nothing to him anymore.

So I just swallowed the hurt, the way I’d learned to do every single day since I became Mrs. Adrian Cole, and stepped aside.

Martha appeared with his coffee, and I caught the look in her eyes as she glanced between us—that familiar pity that made my stomach turn. I knew what she saw. What everyone saw. A mute girl married to a man who despised her very existence.

One would think that he was just being that cruel to her just because she was pregnant…another case of men just being irritated with the baby bump.

But Adrian has been like this from day one…since we were forced to get married so his family reputation would be protected.

It all came down to one night. One terrible, life-altering mistake that happened a year ago.

I’d been at a business party—my father had dragged me along, hoping to make connections for our struggling company. Some men had cornered me near the bar, their hands grabbing, their breath reeking of alcohol.

I’d tried to push them away, tried to scream, but no sound came out.

It never did.

Then Adrian appeared, like some dark angel sent to save me.

He’d pulled those men off me with such fury in his eyes, such protective rage, that I’d fallen for him right then and there.

He’d been so kind afterward, asking if I was okay, making sure I was safe.

To thank him, I’d mustered every ounce of courage I had and approached him later that evening with a drink. Just a simple gesture of gratitude from a girl who couldn’t speak her thanks aloud.

I didn’t know my brother Daniel had drugged it.

I didn’t know Daniel was so desperate for money to save our family’s company that he’d orchestrated the whole thing—arranging for me to give Adrian that drink, hoping something would happen that would force the powerful Adrian Cole into an alliance with the Carter family.

We had a one-night stand. And what happened afterward was a complete disaster.

I got pregnant. Adrian married me—not out of love, but out of obligation and pressure from his family. And from the moment I became Mrs. Cole, he treated me with nothing but ice-cold contempt.

“Thank you, Martha,” Adrian said warmly to the housekeeper, taking the cup from her with a smile that never, ever appeared when he looked at me.

I’d tried everything to make him see me, to make him love me. I learned to cook his favorite meals. I studied everything about him—his preferences, his schedule, the way he liked his study organized. I did everything a wife could do to prove that I wasn’t the manipulative woman he believed me to be.

But nothing worked. Nothing ever worked.

I watched him head toward his study and close the door, and something inside me broke open. A sharp pain lanced through my abdomen, and I gasped silently, gripping the stair railing.

Not yet. Please, not yet.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I had to try one more time. I had to make him understand. The baby was coming—I could feel it—and he had promised to be there.

I needed to tell him.

I climbed the stairs with all my might and knocked on the door of his study.

That’s when I heard his voice, warm and tender in a way it had never been with me.

“I know, Lily. I know.”

I froze, my hand hovering over the door handle.

“No, she keeps pestering me…like she always does. But do not worry because I’ve not forgotten our meeting.”Adrian continued, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Tonight? I don’t think…”

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Lily Evans.

The woman he was supposed to marry. The woman his mother had chosen for him, and also his childhood sweetheart.

The woman who was everything I could never be—beautiful, sophisticated, from the right family, and most importantly, able to speak.

“Okay if it’s that urgent…,” Adrian murmured into the phone. “Fine, I’ll be heading over to the office now then.”

I stumbled backward, my vision blurring with tears. The study door suddenly swung open, and Adrian nearly collided with me.

His eyes narrowed when he saw me standing there, and I knew—I knew he realized I’d heard everything.

But there was no apology in his eyes. No guilt.

He simply straightened his tie and said coldly, “There’s an urgent meeting at the company. I have to leave.”

He walked past me without another glance.

Before he walked away, I grasped his arm.

My hands already forming the signs. Adrian, please. The baby—I’m going into labor. We need to go to the hospital now.

He whirled on me, his eyes blazing with irritation, “Quit with the pitiful acts, Ava,” he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “It’s getting disgusting.”

Then he just left, leaving me alone.

Another contraction hit, stronger this time, and I gasped, doubling over.

Fuck…I was in labour.