Chapter 1

The day my brother was diagnosed with vocal cord polyps, an unprecedented argument erupted in our house.

Five million in penalty fees, five hundred thousand for surgery.

For a family already crushed by my medical expenses, these were astronomical numbers.

Mom pointed at me huddled in the corner of the sofa wearing headphones, breaking down in tears:

"Why wasn't he the one who went mute back then? Why does one have to be mute, and the other has to become mute too!"

My brother Liam stormed out, slamming the door. Before leaving, his eyes red, he looked at me coldly:

"Mara, if I were the beneficiary of that accident insurance policy, how wonderful that would be."

I took off my headphones. There was actually no music playing inside.

Ever since that fire five years ago when I rescued my brother, I could no longer make a sound, and my left hand could no longer play the violin.

I looked at the "High-Value Accidental Death Insurance Policy" on the table. Dad had bought it years ago, gritting his teeth through the payments, worried that no one would take care of me—a disabled person—in the future. The beneficiary was listed as the legal heirs.

I glanced at the bottle of antidepressants hidden in my pocket.

I thought, Liam was right.

With just one accident, my brother could use the money to cure his voice, and he could use the songs I'd hidden in my violin case to continue shining on stage.

This time, I really won't be a burden to you anymore.