The Billionaire's Broken, Voiceless Wife

"Mr. Hardin, you're coming to pick her up now? Great, great. We'll wait for you at the entrance."

After hanging up, the doctor's obsequious smile vanished, replaced by a cold glare.

"You'd better keep your mouth shut. Know what to say and what not to say. Otherwise, I have plenty of ways to bring you back in."

Amelia went pale and shook her head vigorously. "No... won't say."

Her tongue was missing a piece, making her speech halting. The doctor figured she didn't have the nerve to tell the truth anyway.

Soon, a black Rolls-Royce Cullinan pulled up slowly.

The window rolled down, revealing a strikingly handsome face.

"Get in."

At the sound of that familiar voice, she stood frozen, then slowly lifted her head to meet those dark, heavy eyes.

The name that rushed to her lips-"Elliot"-she swallowed back. "Mr.... Mr. Hardin."

The man who was legally her husband.

All that remained was that cold, distant address.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

His voice was icy, threaded with impatience.

Four years apart, and he was more commanding than ever, more devastatingly handsome-and more terrifying to her.

Once, she had chased him relentlessly for ten years, clinging and shameless, the laughingstock of the entire city.

Now, she was deathly afraid of him, desperate to avoid him at all costs.

She dropped her head and limped toward the black car, her left foot clearly off.

Elliot glanced at it, a trace of mockery in his eyes.

"Amelia, still using that trick? Playing for sympathy only works so many times. Looks like that place didn't cure your bad habits. You-"

The next moment, she began to tremble violently, her pupils contracting. Her knees gave out from standing too long, and she collapsed to the ground.

She couldn't go back! She would die there!

Her left leg had been broken years ago when she tried to escape and an orderly caught her. It had never healed properly.

These four years, she had learned her lesson. She would never compete with Elyse for anything again, never cling to the title of Mrs. Hardin.

She would give it all back!

"I'm... sorry. I know... I was wrong. Please... don't send me back in!"

"You-"

Elliot stopped mid-sentence. The old Amelia-arrogant, overbearing, ruthless-would never have apologized.

She had been insufferable, done every bad thing imaginable, climbed into his bed, forced him to marry her.

And now she was apologizing.

But wrongs had to be paid for.

"Looks like sending you there finally taught you some sense. Get in."

Amelia didn't move. She stared at the car as if it were a monster.

That was how she had been taken-forced into a car just like this and driven to Westcliff Rehabilitation Center.

Cold sweat broke out on her back. Her teeth chattered as she forced out the words, "Can... I not go?"

"I'm not asking. Get in."

Finally, she climbed in and curled into the corner, barely touching the seat, trying to take up as little space as possible.

Elliot frowned. Before he could speak, she began trembling and apologizing nonstop.

"Sorry... sorry... I got your car dirty. I'll wipe it... wipe it clean."

She knelt on the seat and started scrubbing the leather with her sleeve, even though there was no mark.

"Almost... clean. Not dirty. I'm not dirty..."

The wounds on her fingers tore open, and blood dripped onto the leather.

She grew more frantic, scrubbing harder. "I'll get it clean. Don't hit me. Don't hit..."

Elliot realized something was wrong. He told the driver to stop, got out, and pulled her out after him.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy? You-"

He stopped mid-sentence as he looked down at the hand he was gripping.

Five fingers covered in fine scars, thick with calluses, joints swollen. Not a single nail left-just bare, cracked fingertips oozing blood.

It was hard to believe these had once been a violinist's hands.

The old Amelia had been spoiled and willful, but she played beautifully. The media had called her hands "God's gift."

He frowned. "What happened to them?"

She yanked her hand back, trembling, her face deathly pale. "I... got sick. My nails... rotted and fell off."

Elliot's lips pressed together. A strange feeling stirred in his chest.

But then he remembered what she had done, and hardened his heart again.

"You'd better behave. These self-pity tactics won't work on me."

He still believed this was just another one of Amelia's schemes. Not worth sympathy.

Soon, the car wound up the hill to the Rollins family villa.

Before they even reached the door, they could hear laughter and chatter inside.

"Oh, Mom, Dad, stop teasing me. Elliot and I aren't like that."

"Elyse is shy. When it comes to feelings, they have to be mutual."

"That's right, Elyse. Don't worry. Once Elliot gets back, he'll get a divorce."

Amelia's face showed no emotion.

Her heart had already been shattered so many times it felt nothing.

So that was why they had brought her out-for the divorce.

The people in the living room turned at the sound of their arrival.

Mr. and Mrs. Rollins sat on either side of a delicate-looking young woman, doting on her.

They had been her parents for twenty years-until a routine体检 revealed she wasn't their biological child.

An investigation uncovered the truth: she was the daughter of the Rollins family's former maid, who had switched the babies out of jealousy during childbirth.

Her world collapsed. She was forced to change her name-from Amelia Rollins to Amelia Mcpherson. And the real Rollins daughter, Elyse, was brought home. Everything was returned to its rightful owner.

She had accepted her fate and gone back to her biological parents-only to discover they planned to sell her into a brothel.

She had barely escaped and fled back to the Rollins family, only to fall into another nightmare.

"Sister! You're back!"

A pair of slender arms wrapped familiarly around hers.

Elyse said warmly, "Sister, it's so good to see you! I've missed you so much these past few years. How were you in there?"

Amelia's face went white. She tried stiffly to pull her arm away, but Elyse held on tight.

Elyse leaned in close, smiling, but her voice dropped to a whisper only Amelia could hear. "Amelia, why didn't you just die in there?"

Amelia's pupils contracted. She stared at Elyse, who smiled back innocently, then let her gaze drop to Amelia's bare nail beds. Her smile widened.

"Does it hurt? No nails, no more violin for you. Oh, and I heard you tried to run. I had them break your leg so you couldn't. Happy? Every bit of suffering you went through in there-I ordered it."

Crash-

The emotions she had been holding back exploded.

With every ounce of strength she had, Amelia shoved Elyse away and lunged for her throat, her eyes wild.

"You... it was you! I knew it! You... did it on purpose!"

Four years of beatings, four years of hell-all because of Elyse!

She had been trapped in that place, unable to live, unable to die, dreaming every night of escaping.

"Sister! What's wrong with you? Cough... that hurts!"

Mr. and Mrs. Rollins rushed forward in alarm. "Amelia! What are you doing? Let go!"

A powerful force yanked her off. Her head slammed against the sharp corner of a table. Pain exploded, blood gushed, streaming down her face.

"Amelia! You're asking for it!"

Elliot's eyes were cold, his face twisted with disgust. "You never learn."

Amelia, her head covered in blood, tried desperately to explain: "Elliot, it was... her! She told them... at the center... to beat me! They broke... my leg! Pulled out my nails!"

He sneered. "Oh? I thought you said you got sick and they rotted. Amelia, how many more lies are you going to tell?"

She choked, unable to speak.

Mrs. Rollins helped her daughter up, her eyes full of concern. "Elyse, are you all right? Does it hurt?" When she saw the finger marks on Elyse's neck, her face flushed with anger. "Amelia! How could you do this to Elyse? She's always thinking of you, caring about you. She even went to the center to bring you food-and this is how you repay her?"

Visit? Bring food?

Amelia suddenly remembered the monthly electric shock punishments. Her voice trembled. "Every month... on the seventh?"

Mr. Rollins looked at her with disappointment. "Amelia, you know Elyse visits you every seventh. She cares about you, looks out for you. And this is how you treat her? We should have let you go to prison back then. Atone for your crimes."

Four years ago, she had been accused of hit-and-run, nearly facing jail time. The family had paid a large settlement to get a letter of forgiveness.

But she hadn't done it. The "evidence" was fabricated. No one believed her.

Then Elyse had said, "Sister has gone bad. Maybe a rehabilitation center will help her become a better person." And Amelia was locked up in Westcliff for four years.

"Dad... Dad! She's not... kind! She didn't come to... visit me! She came to... punish me! She-"

"Enough! I'm not your father. I don't have a daughter with a venomous heart like yours. We never should have let you out. Driver, take her back."

Amelia looked at her adoptive parents, who refused to believe her, and the light slowly faded from her eyes.

How had she forgotten? She was no longer the beloved eldest daughter of the Rollins family.

She turned stiffly to Elliot and forced out the words, "What... do I have to do... to not go back?"

The entire Rollins family depended on the Hardins. Elliot's word was law.

His gaze was icy, his voice low and sharp. "Apologize to Elyse."

She looked at Elyse, who was leaning tearfully against Mrs. Rollins, her eyes red.

Apologize?

But what had she done wrong?

She hadn't chosen to be switched. She hadn't done those things. She hadn't planned to climb into his bed...

One by one, every accusation crushed her. She had fought, she had pleaded, but no one believed her.

It didn't matter anymore.

Slowly, she knelt in front of Elyse, murmuring, "I was... wrong. I'm sorry."

*Thud.*

Her forehead hit the floor hard.

"I was wrong."

*Thud.*

An apology, a kowtow.

She ground her last shred of dignity into the dust.

Soon, bloody prints marked the floor.

Elyse's eyes glittered with satisfaction, but when she saw Mrs. Rollins' expression soften slightly, she quickly helped Amelia up.

"Sister, I don't blame you. Get up. I know you didn't mean it. I forgive you."

Mr. Rollins looked pleased. "Elyse is so kind-hearted. Even after all this, she still cares about her sister."

Amelia no longer resisted or denied. Darkness pulsed at the edges of her vision, and she could barely stand.

But pain shot through her arm-Elyse's sharp nails digging into her flesh like knives.

"Sister, let's get along from now on."

Amelia nodded, enduring the pain.

Mr. Rollins glanced at the time. "It's getting late. Let's take care of business first."

Elyse's eyes lit up, but she put on a hurt expression. "Elliot, would this ruin your marriage? Maybe we shouldn't..."

Elliot's voice softened slightly. "Don't worry. It should have been you all along."

Amelia's head snapped toward him. *Should have been you?* What did that mean?

The Rollins and Hardin families had no marriage agreement. It had been her, Amelia, chasing Elliot for ten years. She had given up hope-and then he suddenly agreed to marry her.

She had just escaped her biological parents and was barely surviving with the Rollins family. She had been overjoyed, thinking Elliot had finally seen her worth.

Then she was framed for climbing into his bed, and he reneged on his promise.

Old Mr. Hardin had forced him to go through with it. They had signed the marriage certificate in secret-no wedding, no announcement. She was like a shameless stray dog.

He grew to hate her more each day. That brief warmth had come out of nowhere and vanished just as fast.

Elyse said shyly, "Elliot, I don't mind."

He reassured her with a few words, then gathered the documents and took Amelia away.

Mr. Rollins took his daughter's hand. "Elyse, the future of this family rests on you. Don't mess it up."

Compared to the unloved Amelia, Elyse-whom Elliot clearly favored-was the better choice. Mr. Rollins preferred her too.

The car headed toward the city clerk's office.

Amelia stared blankly out the window at the passing scenery-familiar and strange.

After four years locked away, the outside world had changed completely. She didn't even have a phone. The Rollins family had taken all her documents and belongings.

She caught a whiff of smoke. Turning, she saw him light a cigarette and instinctively shrank back.

She remembered he hadn't smoked before.

"Bother you?"

She shook her head quickly. Who was she to complain?

But her body betrayed her. Her throat itched, and she began to cough.

Once she started, she couldn't stop-as if she would cough out a lung.

Elliot's face darkened. "Stop the car."

The car pulled over.

"Get out."

The driver followed orders, yanked her out, and left her on the roadside.

"Walk. If you're late, you know what happens."

The car sped away.

She bent over, coughing violently, and a stream of warm liquid shot from her mouth.

She looked down at her hand-covered in blood.

Last winter, she had been left outside all night in the cold. She'd developed a high fever that never fully healed. Her lungs were damaged. She couldn't handle smoke.

Slowly, she straightened up and limped forward.

The sun was setting.

Outside the city clerk's office.

Elliot's shadow stretched long. The setting sun cast a warm glow over his handsome face, but it couldn't melt the ice in his eyes.

He turned and walked away.

He didn't know that a hundred meters behind him, someone shouted, "Someone help! A woman collapsed!"

Amelia had fallen-a hundred meters away from him.

As the Cullinan rolled past the crowd, Elliot glanced out the window. His phone rang.

His expression softened as he answered, and at that exact moment, the crowd lifted Amelia up and carried her past his window.

An ambulance siren wailed. She was rushed to the hospital.

When she woke up, it was the next day.

She saw the doctor's serious, grave expression and felt dread crawl up her spine.

"Contact your family and have them come to the hospital as soon as possible. Your condition is critical."

"Doctor... what's wrong with me?"

"You have lung cancer. The cancer cells have spread."

Lung cancer.

The two words hit her like thunder, shattering her sanity.

She tried to smile, but tears poured down her face.

She had thought that leaving the rehabilitation center meant she could start over. But fate was playing a cruel joke.

"Doctor... how long... do I have?"

"With proper treatment, you might live longer. But the treatment is expensive."

She was silent. Her hands slowly clenched. "Worst... case?"

"Two months."

The doctor's face was sympathetic, but he pressed on. "With good results, there could be a miracle. You should discuss this with your family."

Her expression went blank. "I... have no family."

Her biological parents wanted to sell her. Her adoptive parents despised her. She had no one.

She couldn't afford the hospital bill or even the medication. She owed the hospital money-she would pay it back someday.

Her phone and ID were with Elliot. And her mind, dulled by years of electric shocks, couldn't remember the way back.

Her bad leg throbbed with pain. She could barely walk. She couldn't go back, and no one would lend a phone to a beggar.

She ended up on the streets, sleeping under a bridge, surviving on garbage.

She kept telling herself that Elliot would come looking for her to finalize the divorce.

But she didn't know that everyone thought she had run away to avoid signing the papers.

"Nothing?"

"No, sir. We've searched everywhere-the Rollins house, the Boggs house. No sign of Miss Mcpherson."

Elliot frowned deeply, his eyes flashing with understanding-and disgust.

Of course. Amelia would never cooperate with a divorce.

She had chased him for ten years, refused to leave, even impersonated Elyse and climbed into his bed to marry him. Why would she want a divorce?

Her obedient act on the way here had just been to lower his guard so she could run and hide.

He let out a cold laugh. "Start with her friends. Without her documents, she can't go far."

But three full days passed, and they found nothing.

Elliot grew impatient. He thought of one person and called her.

Clara Vance, Amelia's former best friend.

She screamed into the phone, "Elliot Hardin! Are you even human? You sent Amelia to that place for four years! You're an animal! A bastard! Don't call me!"

"She's with you. Have her come out."

"Are you insane? You think I'm hiding her? Wait-what do you mean? Amelia is missing?"

"Clara, don't play dumb."

"Play dumb, my ass! Elliot, I've held back for years. You were the one who agreed to marry her, then you backed out. You're worse than a-"

"The Vance family business deal is canceled."

She went silent. After a moment, her voice softened. "She's not with me. I swear."

He hung up, his face dark.

Not with the Rollins family, not with the Boggs family, not with Clara. No one in their circle would dare take her in.

She had gotten better at enduring. Better at hiding.

He gave the order: "Contact Westcliff. Once we find her, send her back."

If she wasn't reformed yet, they would keep reforming her.

This was Amelia's fourth day on the streets. She was covered in filth, reeking of garbage, chased away everywhere she went.

She had waited and waited, but Elliot never came for her.

She coughed constantly, day and night. The other homeless people stayed away, afraid she was contagious.

She coughed up mouthful after mouthful of thick, dark blood.

Each breath burned. Every step felt like walking on cotton.

She struggled down the street, asking everyone she saw to borrow a phone. No one would lend one.

She couldn't walk anymore. She collapsed. A kind-hearted college student helped her up.

"Are you okay? Should I take you to a hospital?"

"Can... I borrow... your phone?"

"A phone? Here."

Her trembling hands took it. She dialed the number burned into her bones.

*Ring. Ring.*

"Who is this?"

That cold voice.

Her eyes slowly reddened. Her voice was rough and hoarse. "Elliot... it's me."

"Amelia, you need to-"

"No, that's not... cough, cough, cough-" She started coughing again, and a huge gush of blood sprayed out. The student next to her gasped. "Oh my God, are you okay? You're coughing up blood!"

She felt her body growing cold. A fierce will to live made her beg.

"I'm... sick. Really sick. Can you... lend me some money? Just... three thousand dollars? Please? I'm in so much pain..."

Every organ, every inch of her body ached-a deep, bone-crushing pain.

But on the other end of the line came a laugh-cold and cruel.

"Amelia, using that trick again? Why don't you just die?"

Each word was a knife.

In a daze, she looked up and saw a giant screen playing a news headline:

**[Hardin Group CEO Spends 30 Billion on a Private Estate to Make His Beloved Smile]**

And in her ear, Elliot's merciless voice: "You'd better pray I don't find you. Because if I do, you'll spend the rest of your life in Westcliff."

The line went dead.

And so did the last flicker of hope inside her.

After Elliot hung up, he immediately ordered a trace on the IP address to find her.

"Elliot, what's wrong? Who was that?"

"Business."

He didn't tell her the truth. Elyse's health was fragile. No need to worry her.

"Elliot, I love this estate so much! Thank you!"

"I'm glad you like it."

An estate meant nothing to him.

Years ago, he had been hunted, gravely wounded, at death's door. If Elyse hadn't saved him, he would have died.

He owed her his life.

Then Amelia had stolen the token he left for Elyse and pretended to be his savior, blackmailing him into marriage.

He had thought she was just spoiled and willful. But this proved she was vicious and unforgivable.

Elyse asked tentatively, "Elliot... have you gotten the token back yet?"

He came back to himself. "She hasn't returned it to you?"

Elyse looked troubled, then said softly, "No, not yet. Sister just got out. I feel bad asking. I don't want to upset her. I was going to wait until she's adjusted to life outside. After all, it's the keepsake you left for me."

She looked down shyly, the picture of maidenly modesty.

Elliot said quietly, "You're too kind."

She had stolen the token and impersonated Elyse, and yet Elyse was still considerate of her feelings.

Elyse started to lean toward him. "Elliot, I-"

His phone vibrated.

He answered immediately. The voice on the other end reported:

"Boss, we've found Miss Mcpherson."