Chapter 1: Irina

When I was almost three years old, I watched my mother die in front of me. She hid me under the bed when some men broke into our house in Russia and told me that no matter what happened, I shouldn't speak or make a sound. I think I took it too seriously, because from that day on I stopped talking. I never uttered another word. So when I turned eighteen, my father arranged a marriage with Steve Ivanov, a boy who had grown up alongside me. To seal a multimillion-dollar contract, he forced me to marry him.

I thought marrying Steve wouldn't be so bad. We had grown up together and had always been friends; he tried to understand me, unlike everyone else. However, on our wedding day, I noticed something different about him. Since the engagement had been announced, he hadn't come to my house, so the first time I saw him was at the civil ceremony — the only one we held — surrounded by our families and closest friends.

On our wedding night, I discovered why he was so angry: his parents had forced him into it, just as my father had forced me.

"Do you really think I want to spend my life with a mute like you? If my family's company weren't at risk, I never would have married you," he shouted at me the moment we were alone in our new house. I tried to communicate in sign language, something he had always tried to understand, but this time he didn't care.

"I don't want to see your stupid signs. If you weren't mute, your father would have lent my family that money without hesitation. But to marry off his mute daughter, he made that a condition. Not even your own father wants you — that's why he married off his younger daughter and not his firstborn," Steve spat.

Tears streamed down my face. And he was right: my father only loved Ines, his eldest daughter, who was actually the daughter of his mistress. Yes, my father had been cheating on my mother long before he married her. I believe he only married her for my grandfather's money. But a few years after the wedding, my grandfather lost nearly his entire fortune, so my father had to work for everything he had now. When my mother died, he brought his mistress and her daughter into our home, and I became the mute bastard no one wanted to see.

"Don't think I'm going to sleep in the same room as you," Steve finished, and he left, leaving me alone in what was supposed to be our bedroom on our wedding night.

I cried all night until I fell asleep. I was alone in the house all the time, so I studied for two degrees online: Business Administration and Graphic Design. Since getting married, my only companion had been my computer, and all I did was study. In addition to the two degrees, I learned several languages. Even though I can't speak, I dream of doing so one day.

Steve came home some weekends, drunk, and insulted me. On a couple of occasions, he slapped me. So every time I heard him come in, I locked myself in the bedroom until I heard him leave the next morning. Two years passed that way. One day, I went out to pick up my university diplomas, feeling happy despite the loneliness.

I went to the cemetery and brought flowers to my mother's grave. Since it was Friday, almost everyone got off work early, so as I walked home, I saw many children running in the park with their parents. I wondered if I would ever be a mother. At this rate, I doubted it. When I arrived at the house, I saw Steve's car. I took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't drinking and wouldn't insult or hit me. There were also two men at the door, which seemed strange, but Steve's family had become very powerful over those two years, and sometimes when he came home drunk, his bodyguards brought him. I didn't worry about it, nodded in greeting, and went inside. I heard noises upstairs, so I went up and froze when I saw Steve having sex with Ines — my sister — in my own bedroom.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. A few tears rolled down my cheeks until Ines noticed me.

"Little sister, you're back," she said shamelessly as she covered herself with my sheets.

"Since you're here, take this." Steve wrapped himself in a robe and threw some documents at me.

I took them with trembling hands and read. It was a divorce agreement. Steve handed me a pen to sign immediately.

"Ines is carrying my child, and I won't let my heir be a bastard because I'm married to you. So sign — I have to plan a big wedding," Steve said.

"Oh! And get your things out of here. You and I are done. You can go back to your father. This house now belongs to Ines and my child," he continued, while my so-called sister smiled with satisfaction.

I signed with a lump in my throat. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth. I opened the closet, pulled out my clothes, stuffed them into a small suitcase, and left that place, more broken than when I had left my father's house.

I took a taxi and used my phone to tell the driver where to go. I had no money or bank account of my own — when I lived with my father, he handled my expenses, and after marrying Steve, his personal assistant paid for everything. Now I had only one place to go: my father's house. When I arrived, I paid the taxi and went inside. My father, Igor, and my stepmother were waiting for me, both with angry expressions. There were two other men.

"Finally. Sit down and sign," my father forced me into a chair in front of some papers. I read what they said and immediately shook my head no. It was a new marriage certificate. But I had just signed the divorce papers!

"Don't resist. Just sign. This is your fault. Your sister had to sacrifice herself to save the family because you're so useless you couldn't give Steve a child in two years. Now sign, because I'm not going to support you again, and this way I'll recover the money I lost because of you." My father yanked me by the hair, and my tears fell without stopping.

If I hadn't had children, it wasn't because I didn't want to — it was because Steve never slept in the same room as me. What did they expect? That I would force him, or beg and offer myself to him whenever he came home? Seeing that I couldn't resist, I gripped the pen tightly and signed, heading off to my new prison. Because if this new husband is anything like Steve, wherever I go will be a cage.

Chapter 2: Irina

After signing, my father took me back to my room and locked me in. He said my new husband would come for me in the morning. Locked in there, I cried the way I had on my wedding night, but this time the pain was even deeper. My sister was going to have my ex-husband's child, and I had just signed a marriage certificate with a complete stranger. I didn't know what would be worse: staying in that house, going back to Steve, or living with the unknown man I had married.

The bedroom door opened and Carmen walked in — my stepmother and Ines's mother — wearing a big smile. It was obvious that my misery made her happy.

"Did you think you'd be happy, you stupid mute? Because of your whore of a mother, my daughter was born a bastard, while you — the stupid mute — got to be the princess of high society. Now you're going to live with a paralyzed old man with no feelings. I'm sure he'll make you scream — but from pain." Carmen slapped me twice and shoved me to the floor before leaving.

I kept crying, this time on the cold floor of my room, until I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, it was still dark. I hadn't even had dinner and I was hungry, but there was no point making noise at that hour. I knew no one would come, just like when I was a little girl and Carmen would lock me up or punish me without anyone — not even my father — coming to help.

At dawn, the door opened. I thought they would at least give me breakfast, but instead, they took me to a man waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"This is your husband's driver. You're not my problem anymore," my father said, and a few tears escaped my eyes.

The driver opened the door of a mysterious SUV. Even though I wanted to run, I couldn't. There were several men and other SUVs all around. I climbed into the vehicle, wiping away my tears. The windows had black curtains, so it was dark inside. I could make out the figure of a man and hear his breathing. I was very nervous and afraid. Was it true that they had married me off to a paralyzed old man?

"Why were you crying?" asked a cold, deep voice that made me shudder.

I turned toward the figure, who was seated some distance from me. The SUV had been modified: it only had two seats and a large open space — for a wheelchair, I assumed.

"Why won't you answer me?" he asked in a louder tone, which frightened me.

With trembling hands, I picked up my phone, typed a response, and the robotic voice read it aloud: "I'm mute. I thought they told you."

The man burst out laughing. His laugh, though somewhat cold, was pleasant — genuine.

"What are you laughing at?" I typed for the robotic voice to read again.

"At us. Now this really does seem like a joke: the mute and the paralyzed CEO. But it doesn't matter — you'll still be my wife, and you'll give me a child. My plans haven't changed," he said, stopping his laughter, and my body trembled.

This man I didn't even know intended to do what Steve hadn't done in two years of marriage? This man whose voice was all I'd heard wanted to be intimate with me and get me pregnant? But wasn't he disabled?

"It works just fine," he said, as if reading my thoughts. "I can feel my legs and move them a little, but I can't walk. Don't worry — I'll make you enjoy it. I know you were married before; I don't care. We'll run some tests before our wedding night. I don't know what diseases your ex-husband might have given you."

"My ex never touched me that way," I typed on my phone, and the robotic voice spoke.

Suddenly, the light inside the SUV turned on, and I could see the man. He wheeled his chair until he was very close to me — so close that I leaned back to get away.

My stepmother had been wrong about only one thing: he wasn't old. He must have been around thirty. His eyes were emerald green, and even seated in his chair, he must have been close to six-foot-six. He was a very handsome man — his face looked as if it had been sculpted by the gods — but he showed no emotion whatsoever. His gaze was frightening, and he had a dark aura about him.

"Why didn't he touch you? You have a lovely body, your face is beautiful, and those lips of yours..." he said, with one hand on my waist and the other on the back of my neck.

He pulled my face to his and kissed me so demandingly that I couldn't respond or move. At some point he drew me toward him and sat me on his lap, continuing to kiss me and caress my body. I felt strange. No one had ever touched me like this, and a small sound even escaped my lips. He released me and smiled.

"I'll find the best help for you. You'll speak again," he said.

The SUV door opened. Apparently, we had arrived a while ago. I was about to climb off his lap, but he stopped me with one hand. Since his wheelchair was motorized, he used the other hand to operate the control and drove us outside along a ramp that slid out when he pressed a button.

We got out, and I couldn't believe how enormous the mansion was. It was about three times bigger than my father's house and Steve's family home combined.

When we went inside, I tried to get down again, but he wouldn't let me. He held my waist firmly. I turned to look at his face, but it betrayed nothing.

"Martha," he called, and a woman who looked to be in her forties or fifties appeared.

"Yes, sir, how can I help you?" Martha asked.

"This is the queen of this house — my wife. Whatever she asks for, she gets, no questions asked. She will fill this mansion with children, so help her with everything. She can't speak right now, so if anyone intimidates her, I want you to tell me, and I'll make them pay," the man said.

"As you wish, Master Dmitry," Martha replied.

And that was how I learned my husband's name.

Chapter 3: Irina

I stared at my new husband in surprise. When he told his employee that I would be the queen, I nearly fainted. I was grateful he was keeping me seated on his lap — and even more so when he said I would fill the house with children. How many children does he think I'm going to give him? Why does he assume I'll do it without hesitation? Although, truthfully, I have dreamed of having a baby — but that doesn't mean I would have one with a stranger, even if he is now my husband. And yet, who better than my husband to have a child with?

I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice when he wheeled his chair into an elevator. I tried to stand up again, but he held me firmly and kissed me again — so demandingly and passionately that I couldn't refuse to kiss him back. We stayed like that until the elevator reached the second floor and he set his wheelchair in motion once more.

"Take a shower. That's your closet — everything in there is for you. When you come out, we'll eat something," Dmitry said, and I simply nodded.

I nearly fainted when I entered the closet: there was every kind of shoe, jewelry, and perfume, all designer. There must have been millions of dollars' worth of things in that room.

"There's something else in there," he appeared in the doorway and pointed to a curtain.

I crossed through it and loved everything I saw. A mirror section with every type and brand of makeup, creams, and so much more — all the most expensive products on the market. I didn't know where I had left my phone, so I thanked him in sign language, hoping he would understand.

"You want to thank me?" Dmitry asked, and I nodded.

"Here, you'll be a queen. You'll have whatever you want. But your way of thanking me should be giving me a child. Take a shower and get changed — I'll be waiting so we can eat together."

Dmitry left and I stood there thinking. If I could endure two years with my idiot ex who didn't treat me well, I can handle having a child with this very handsome man who also wants to treat me like a queen. On top of that, Dmitry is extremely good-looking — a child of his would be beautiful. But I don't know him. With my head spinning, I chose a sky-blue dress and matching underwear. How did he know my size? And how long had my family been planning all of this with him? There were so many questions I didn't know what to think.

I took a long shower, then put on the lace underwear — it was gorgeous — and the dress. After doing my hair and applying a little makeup, I left the bedroom, and Martha was at the door.

"Ma'am, your husband ordered me to escort you to the dining room," Martha said.

I nodded and followed her. When we reached the table, Dmitry was seated reading the newspaper. As I approached, a man in a suit pulled out my chair so I could sit, then stepped away. I assumed he was a member of the staff.

"You look beautiful. I like how that dress looks on you," Dmitry complimented me, and all I could do was smile.

"I took the liberty of replacing your phone with something better. Here."

He handed me a new phone. I took it right away and typed: "Thank you for everything. It's very nice."

"I'm glad you like it, but you know everything comes at a cost: a child," Dmitry reminded me.

After thinking it over, I typed my response: "I know, but could you not be rough with me when you try to get me pregnant?" I asked, nervous.

"I already told you that whatever you ask for, you'll have. If you want me to be gentle during our intimate moments, I will be. Just ask. By the way, a team of specialists is coming tomorrow to see you. I want to find out if you can speak again," Dmitry said.

I looked at him for a few seconds. Was this man really willing to treat me like a queen just so I would give him a child? Something that wouldn't displease me at all, because I truly want to be a mother. Besides, he was very handsome and wanted to help me speak again — something my father never did.

"Thank you," I said, about the specialists.

"If you're going to thank me for everything I give you, you'll spend your whole life thanking me — because I'll never stop giving you things, in exchange for what you already know," Dmitry replied.

We ate in peace. Everything was delicious. When we finished, he had me sit on his lap again to go upstairs. When we reached the bedroom, there were rose petals on the bed, champagne, and red heart-shaped balloons.

"You asked me to be gentle, and your wishes are my commands, my queen," he said, moving toward the bed, but I still couldn't react.

He set me on the bed, sat beside me, and poured two glasses, which we both drank.

"I'll be very careful. Don't be nervous," he said tenderly.

He began to kiss me, and as he did, my body relaxed. I liked it. With every passing second I lost more of my composure. His kisses were so soft and tender that I lost what little composure I had left and followed his lead. For some reason, sighs began escaping my lips. I couldn't believe that in my daily life I never spoke, and now the only sounds I made were gasps. He laughed with every moan that left my lips. When he entered me, I'll admit it hurt a little, but then I enjoyed it. He was gentle and patient the entire time — he never treated me roughly. On the contrary, he treated me like a queen, and I lost myself in his caresses until we both reached the peak together.

"Your idiot ex doesn't know what he missed, but I'm grateful he never touched you. Now you're mine alone, and no one will ever touch you," Dmitry said, holding me against his chest.

I wanted to reach for my phone, but he stopped me. Instead, he got into his chair, pulled me along with him, and we went into the bathroom, where we climbed into the tub.

"I want to hear you moan again," he whispered in my ear.

Then he made me his once more in the tub. Afterward, we went back to bed and slept in each other's arms. It was a new sensation for me, but being in his arms made me feel safe. I wasn't afraid. For the first time since my mother's murder, I felt safe — and I didn't want that to change. I was afraid he might change his mind and decide he didn't want me, a simple mute, to be his queen.