I was just brought back to my wealthy biological family. But the moment I stepped foot into the house, the fake daughter threw herself into our parents' arms, sobbing. "Dad, Mom, please forgive me, but I really can't accept calling her my sister." "She's the transfer student who spread rumors about me at school and gave me depression!" Mom held the fake daughter, comforting her with a heartbroken expression. Dad was furious, looking at me with absolute disappointment. "I can't believe leaving you out there for a few years turned you into such a delinquent!" "Butler, throw her out! The Vance family doesn't have a daughter who bullies others!" I stood there, completely dumbfounded. My hands were signing so fast they looked like a blur. "I spread rumors about her?" "But I'm literally mute!" Chapter 1 I stood in the foyer, my fingertips still numb from the freezing wind outside. Chloe Vance was buried in my parents' arms, crying so hard she could barely catch her breath. She hid her face in Mom’s neck, her shoulders trembling violently. When she finally looked up, the corners of her eyes were flushed red. "Dad, Mom, you don't know what she did." "When I got second place in our grade on the midterms, she went around telling everyone I cheated. She said Dad bribed the teachers, and that I slept with the Dean of Students to secure my Ivy League recommendation..." With every word she choked out, Mom patted her back a little harder, and Dad's brow furrowed deeper. I opened my mouth, but only faint, breathy rasps came out. I haven't been able to speak since I was a toddler. The doctors said my vocal cords were irreparably damaged. Over the years, I had gotten used to communicating entirely through sign language and a notepad. I raised my hands, my fingers just about to sign “That’s not true,” when my biological brother, Connor, abruptly stood up from the sofa. He closed the distance between us in three long strides, glaring down at me. The disgust in his eyes practically spilled over. "Clara, how long are you going to keep up this act? Chloe is severely depressed because of you, and you still want to make excuses?" I froze, my fingers stalling mid-air. Connor was the only son of the Vance family. From the moment I walked in, he had been fiercely protecting Chloe, his gaze full of tenderness whenever he looked at her. But the way he looked at me was like looking at trash on the bottom of his shoe. "Connor, please don't speak to my sister like that..." Chloe tugged at Connor's sleeve, her voice soft and fragile, yet every word felt like a needle driving into my heart. "Maybe Clara just really wants to fit into this family, and she used the wrong method to get our attention. I don't blame her, I really don't..." "You're just too kindhearted!" Mom immediately hugged her tighter, then turned to me, her eyes as cold as ice. "Clara, we brought you back so you could feel the warmth of a real family, not so you could come here and bully people! Can you please drop those ghetto tricks you learned on the streets?" Dad let out a heavy scoff, rapping his knuckles against the mahogany coffee table with a dull thud. "A daughter of Richard Vance, even one who grew up in the system, should carry herself with class. But you? The second you walk through the door, you start drama and bully Chloe. You've completely embarrassed the Vance family!" The maids standing off to the side whispered amongst themselves, doing nothing to hide their disdain. "I heard she was just some feral girl from the sticks. Who knew she was this malicious?" "Miss Chloe is so sweet, how could anyone have the heart to bully her?" "Look at her waving her hands around. She’s probably faking being mute just to play the victim and get sympathy." Their words were like fine needles, piercing my eardrums. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm, and reached for the side pocket of my backpack. My school notebook was in there. I could write down exactly what happened. But just as my fingers brushed the zipper, Connor clamped his hand around my wrist. His grip was brutal; his knuckles practically dug into my bone. "What else are you trying to pull out to trick us?" I struggled, using my free hand to dig into the bag, finally pulling out a stack of loose papers with my notes. But before I could even unfold them, Connor snatched them away. With a violent tear, the stack of papers was reduced to a flurry of white confetti falling around us. The pieces landed in my hair. I stared at him blankly, the last shred of warmth in my heart freezing over. Right on cue, Chloe let out a delicate sob, burying her face deeper into Mom's chest. "Connor, stop. My sister was just..." "She drove you to depression, and you're still defending her?" Connor cut her off, his eyes blazing with fury. "Someone this manipulative and toxic doesn't deserve a place in the Vance family!" Dad's face darkened completely. He waved a hand at the butler near the door, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Throw her out. The Vance family doesn't have a daughter like this." Chapter 2 I spent the night curled up on a lumpy mattress at a cheap motel down the street. The next morning, before the homeroom bell even rang, Mr. Harrison called me into his office. When I pushed the door open, Chloe was already sitting in the chair opposite his desk. Her shoulders were heaving, a crumpled tissue in her hand, and her eyes were swollen like walnuts. The second she saw me, she snapped her head up. With a perfectly calibrated look of terror and grievance, she shrank back behind Mr. Harrison's chair. "Clara, take a seat," Mr. Harrison said, his voice frigid. "I want you to tell me exactly what you did to Chloe yesterday." I stood in the doorway, paralyzed. Chloe immediately started sobbing on cue. "Mr. Harrison, please don't pressure her. Yesterday, she cornered me in the hallway and called me a bastard who stole her nest. She threatened to make my life a living hell until I dropped out of school. I... I'm just so scared." Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was articulated perfectly, striking me like a barrage of throwing knives. Mr. Harrison's expression darkened further. He picked up his desk phone. "I've already called your parents. They'll be here any minute." A few moments later, the office door swung open. My biological parents walked in. Richard’s face was livid, while Eleanor immediately rushed over to hold Chloe's hand, her eyes overflowing with heartache. My dad spoke, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. "Mr. Harrison, what's going on? Did Clara bully Chloe again?" Mr. Harrison pushed his glasses up his nose, his tone severe. "According to Chloe's testimony, Clara has repeatedly subjected her to verbal abuse and defamation, even threatening her education." "This type of behavior is absolutely zero-tolerance at our school." Richard whipped his head toward me, the disappointment in his eyes threatening to drown me. "How did the Vance family produce a daughter like you?! Are you hellbent on destroying our reputation before you're satisfied?" I opened my mouth, but only that weak, raspy air escaped. I raised my hands, my fingers just forming the sign for “No,” when Richard slapped me across the face. Smack. The sound was sharp and deafening. My head snapped to the side. My ears rang loudly, and my cheek burned with searing pain. I stared at him in shock, the tears I had been fighting back finally spilling over. "You still have the nerve to cry?!" His voice dripped with unfiltered revulsion. "You do something this horrific and you have the audacity to cry? You're just putting on a pathetic act for sympathy!" Beside him, Chloe let out another whimper, pressing her face against Eleanor's chest. "Dad, Mom, stop yelling at her. I don't blame her." Eleanor shot me a look of pure disgust. "White trash roots. The only thing she knows how to do is bully our sweet Chloe!" The office door had been left slightly ajar, and a few students were peering in from the hallway. Their whispers drifted clearly into the room. "So she really does bully Chloe..." "She looks so quiet, who knew she was a psycho?" "I heard her biological parents didn't even want her back. No wonder she's so toxic." The gossip pierced my ears. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to ground my emotions. I raised my hands again, slowly signing the words, “I didn't do it.” But halfway through the motion, Mr. Harrison interrupted me. He frowned, thoroughly annoyed. "Clara, can you please stop using these weird parlor tricks to get attention? If you have something to say, use your words! Stop waving your hands around like a freak!" I froze, my fingers hanging uselessly in the air. So even my silent pleas for justice were just "attention-seeking tricks" to them. Just then, the office door was pushed open a little wider. A girl stood in the doorway, her voice small but steady. "Mr. Harrison, she's not doing parlor tricks... That's sign language." Everyone turned to stare at the girl. It was Mia. She kept her head down, her fingers gripping the hem of her sweater, but she gathered her courage and softly added: "M-my uncle works at the deaf community center. I helped out there over the summer and picked up some ASL. What she just signed was ‘I didn't do it.’ And... she actually can't speak." Chapter 3 The air in the room practically froze. Mia stood in the doorway, her cheeks burning bright red, but she repeated herself, word by word: "I'm not making this up. I learned it from my uncle. She really signed ‘I didn't do it.’" Mr. Harrison adjusted his glasses, highly skeptical. "Are you sure, Mia? This isn't something to joke about." Mia looked up, her eyes determined. "Sign language is structured. I wouldn't mistake it. Besides... everyone knows Clara has never spoken a single word since she transferred here." The office went dead silent. Richard and Eleanor's expressions faltered. Eleanor looked at me, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something. A microscopic flash of guilt crossed her eyes. But in that exact moment, Chloe let out a pathetic, trembling sob. Wiping her tears, she whispered, "Clara, even if you don't want to admit what you did, you shouldn't have paid someone to act like you're actually mute." Her crying was like a sharp blade, instantly popping the tiny bubble of guilt forming in Eleanor's chest. Richard's face immediately darkened again. He glared at me, his fury threatening to incinerate me on the spot. "Clara, you are unbelievable! To escape punishment, you'd actually spin a lie this massive?! You even dragged an accomplice in to put on a show for us! You are rotten to the core!" Trembling, I reached into my uniform pocket and pulled out a neatly folded medical diagnosis. I tried to hold it up for them to see. But the moment the paper left my pocket, Richard snatched it from my hand. Without even glancing at it, he ripped it in half, and then in half again. The thin piece of paper fluttered to the floor in shreds. I stared at him, my tears silently cascading down my cheeks. "Act! Keep acting!" Richard's voice was filled with pure loathing. "You just need to be disciplined! Since you love pretending to be mute so much, I'm calling the wilderness therapy boot camp. We're sending you off to the woods for behavioral reform. Let's see if you can keep faking it when you're doing hard labor!" Eleanor's face hardened in agreement. She held Chloe tight, her eyes dripping with contempt. "Clara, we were so wrong about you. To think you'd resort to such cheap, manipulative tactics just to avoid taking responsibility. You are a massive disappointment." Leaning against Eleanor, the very faintest smirk played on Chloe's lips, even as she continued to cry beautifully. "Dad, Mom, please don't be so harsh. Maybe she just made a momentary mistake. She didn't mean it..." "A momentary mistake?!" Richard sneered. "This is her true nature! Keeping a toxic sociopath like her in our house will only bring ruin to the Vance family! I'm calling Warden Miller from the reform camp right now to come haul her away!" Mr. Harrison stood to the side, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at me, then at my parents, and finally sighed, waving Mia away from the door. "You can go back to class, Mia. We'll handle this here." Mia opened her mouth, wanting to argue, but the stern warning in Mr. Harrison's eyes stopped her. She gave me one last, deeply sympathetic look before turning and walking away. I stood rooted to the spot, looking down at the shredded pieces of my medical record on the floor. Suddenly, I smiled. The innocence I had desperately tried to prove was nothing but a laughable comedy routine in their eyes. I realized then that in this family, my existence meant absolutely nothing. I slowly crouched down and began picking up the torn pieces, one by one. The sharp edges of the paper sliced a tiny cut into my fingertip, but I couldn't feel the sting. Compared to the agonizing pain in my chest, a papercut was nothing at all. Chapter 4 When the black SUV pulled up in front of the school's administrative building, the air in the office grew stifling. Two burly men in tactical gray uniforms pushed through the door. They wore the hardened, indifferent expressions of men who dealt with "troubled youth" for a living. Richard immediately stepped forward, greeting them like old friends. "Warden Miller, thanks for making the trip. This girl is pathological and toxic. Keeping her around is a danger to others, so I'm handing her over to your camp for some strict behavioral reform." The man addressed as Warden Miller glanced at me, a cruel, hardened smirk forming on his lips. "Don't worry, Mr. Vance. No matter how tough they think they are, they all learn to obey once we get them out in the woods." Chloe leaned against Eleanor, the triumphant glee in her eyes practically overflowing. She gently tugged on Eleanor's sleeve, her voice as soft as cotton but laced with poison. "Dad, Mom, don't be too hard on her. She's just confused. I'm sure she'll learn her lesson out at the camp." Richard scoffed coldly. "She's rotten to the bone! A place like that is exactly what she needs!" Miller marched over to me, towering above me with an intimidating glare. "So you're the one? Playing deaf and mute to bully the other kids?" I didn't speak. I just gripped the hem of my shirt, my fingertips ice cold. Miller's eyes flashed with impatience. "What, you're not going to talk? Still acting?" Without warning, he lifted his heavy boot and kicked me brutally in the back of my knee. Caught entirely off guard, I collapsed with a heavy thud. My kneecaps slammed into the unforgiving concrete floor, the pain so blinding my vision went black. "Still want to be stubborn?" Miller grabbed a handful of my hair, violently jerking my head up. "Drop the act!" He slapped me across the face so hard my neck snapped to the side. My ears rang violently, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I was trembling in agony, biting down on my lip so hard to keep from making a sound. But the excruciating pain forced a weak, broken whimper past my throat—a faint, raspy gasp for air. "She made a sound! She really is faking it!" Chloe's voice pierced the room, shrill and laced with unrestrained excitement. "I knew she was faking being mute to trick us! She's a liar!" My parents' expressions turned utterly disgusted. Richard pointed a shaking finger at me, his face purple with rage. "You deceitful little rat! How could the Vance family produce a monster like you?! You are a total disgrace!" Mr. Harrison shook his head, his tone dripping with disappointment. "Clara, you really fooled me. I can't believe you'd stoop this low to avoid suspension." The students crowding the doorway began to jeer, their whispers acting like invisible slaps against my already burning cheeks. "So she was faking it!" "She looks so innocent, but she's actually a complete psycho." "Ship her off to the woods! It's what she deserves!" Miller slapped me again, grabbing my arm to drag me out the door. "Let's go! Let's see how much you want to act once I get you back to camp!" I squeezed my eyes shut in total despair, the tears finally freely falling down my face. Just then, the office door was kicked open with explosive force. Everyone froze. A man in a pristine, four-star military uniform stood in the doorway. The stars on his shoulders glinted coldly under the fluorescent lights. He was tall, imposing, and radiated an aura of suffocating authority. His gaze swept across every single person in the room, finally landing on me. The heartbreak in his eyes was palpable. When he spoke, his voice was a low, lethal growl. "My daughter simply cannot speak, and you animals dare to humiliate her like this?" Chapter 5 The moment the man spoke, the oxygen seemed to vanish from the room. The raging fury on Richard’s face froze, replaced instantly by a look I had never seen him wear before. It was a mixture of absolute terror and pathetic, groveling submission. "G-General Sterling..." Miller, who was still gripping my hair, released me as if he’d been burned. He stumbled backward, the indifferent cruelty he usually wore cracking wide open. Without his grip holding me up, my shattered knees gave out, and I pitched forward. A second before I hit the ground, a pair of strong hands caught me. The General’s uniform smelled of clean soap and crisp pine—a scent that completely clashed with the toxicity and judgment of this office. He knelt down to my eye level, his gaze sweeping from my bruised, swollen cheek to the blood leaking from the corner of my mouth. The storm of emotions in his eyes was complex, but I recognized the primary one instantly. It was pure, devastating heartbreak. "Clara," he said, his voice so gentle it sounded like he was afraid of breaking me. "Dad is late." Dad. The word fell like a boulder into a stagnant pond. The shockwaves obliterated the emotional dams I had spent eighteen years building. I stared at him. A thousand words clogged my throat, but not a single one could make it past my ruined vocal cords. The tears in my eyes finally broke free, falling in heavy drops onto the back of the hand he was using to support my arm. Chloe’s face turned paper-white. She shot up from Eleanor’s embrace so fast her fingernails scratched Eleanor’s hand. But Eleanor didn't even notice. She was just staring, paralyzed, at the man in the doorway. "G-General..." Chloe’s voice cracked, sounding shrill and terrified. "How is that possible? How could you be her..." She didn't finish the sentence. Because Arthur Sterling looked at her. His gaze was completely devoid of emotion, like he was looking at a corpse. Chloe’s voice died in her throat. She froze in place. Arthur looked away. He looked down and, with agonizing care, helped me stand up from the floor. My knees were shaking violently, so he firmly wrapped an arm around my waist. His hold was gentle, terrified of hurting me, yet immovable. Then he turned to face the room of petrified people. His voice was slow and measured, yet coated in ice. Every syllable nailed them to the floor. "Eighteen years ago, my wife died in a flash flood while doing charity work in a rural town. Clara’s adoptive mother saved my daughter from the river, but lost her own life in the process. "Clara is the daughter of a fallen hero, and she is the daughter I, Arthur Sterling, have raised for eighteen years. In her entire life, I have never let her suffer a single injustice." He paused. "I was genuinely happy when she found her biological family. But I never imagined her biological parents would treat her like a stray dog." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and slammed it down onto the desk right in front of Richard. It was a medical diagnosis from eighteen years ago. The paper was yellowed, the edges worn from time. But the ink was crystal clear. Patient: Clara Sterling Diagnosis: Organic structural damage to the vocal cords. Prognosis: Permanent, lifelong speech impairment. The office was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Richard stared at the paper. The color drained from his face like the tide rolling out. Eleanor’s jaw went slack, a few broken gasps escaping her lips. Mr. Harrison’s glasses began to slide down his sweaty nose. He fumbled to catch them and nearly knocked over his coffee mug. And Chloe. She bit down on her lower lip so hard it turned white. She looked at the diagnosis, then at the protective way the General stood beside me, and finally at the horrified faces of everyone in the room. The panic in her eyes finally burst through the dam. Arthur didn't miss the terror in Chloe's eyes. A cold sneer touched his lips as he continued smoothly: "Last night, Clara didn't come home to the Sterling estate." "I assumed she was happily reuniting with her biological family." "And yet? This morning, I received a call from Military Command regarding a disturbance." Richard’s Adam’s apple bobbed aggressively. His voice sounded like sandpaper on glass. "General Sterling, I... I had no idea! I thought she was..." "You thought she was pretending to be mute to play the victim." Arthur finished the sentence for him. Richard choked, unable to form another word. Arthur’s piercing gaze locked onto his face. "You tore up her medical records." His tone didn't rise. He didn't yell. But the terrifying calm of a four-star general pinned Richard in place. He looked like he forgot how to breathe. "In front of a dozen people, you slapped her in the face, called her a liar, and hired a thug to drag her through the dirt." "When she was forced to her knees, you watched." "When she was being beaten, you watched." "When she was trembling in excruciating pain but physically couldn't scream—" Arthur paused. "You. Just. Watched." "The Vance family truly has impeccable morals. Beating your own flesh and blood, while coddling an imposter." Richard’s legs gave out, and he stumbled a half-step backward. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but it was like someone had stuffed his throat with cotton. Eleanor—the woman who had been showering Chloe with motherly affection—finally snapped out of her shock. She shoved Chloe away. The motion was so violent and abrupt that Chloe lost her balance and hit her head against the edge of the desk with a dull thud. But Eleanor didn't even glance down at her. She stumbled two steps toward me, then stopped, as if terrified to get any closer. Her voice was choked with sobs, her eyes bloodshot. "Clara... Mom didn't know... I really didn't know..." She reached out a trembling hand, trying to touch my wrist. I didn't dodge. I just looked down, staring blankly at her perfectly manicured hand. Yesterday, this was the exact same hand that patted Chloe’s back, comforting her, cooing, "Our poor Chloe has suffered so much." Yesterday, this was the exact same hand that pointed at my face and called me "white trash." I gently pulled my wrist away and took a half-step behind Arthur. Eleanor’s hand froze in mid-air. It was as if all the strength had been siphoned from her body. She swayed, gripping the edge of the desk just to stay upright. Watching me retreat, the light in her eyes died completely. Her lips trembled violently, but no sound came out. Chloe clutched her bruised forehead, kneeling on the floor. Her voice was so shrill it bordered on hysterical. "General Sterling, I didn't know! I swear I didn't know she was your..." She choked. She didn't know what to call me. Yesterday, I was the unwanted feral child of the Vance family. Today, I was the beloved, spoiled daughter of a four-star general. Tears smeared her makeup into a pathetic mess. She was shaking uncontrollably. "She started it! She targeted me first at school! She went around telling everyone I cheated to get second place, and that my dad bribed the admissions board..." "Spreading rumors." Arthur suddenly repeated the phrase. "Fascinating. In what universe does a child with permanently severed vocal cords go around spreading rumors?" He didn't even look at Chloe. He simply turned his head and gave an order to the military aide standing at attention behind him. "Play it." "Yes, sir." The aide stepped forward. He opened his briefcase, pulled out a stack of documents, and set a portable cassette player on the desk. He hit play. The tape hissed with static, and then a clear voice echoed in the room. It was a recording from an afternoon two months ago. Chloe’s voice floated out, crisp, sweet, and laced with perfectly manufactured concern. "Did you guys know? The new transfer student, Clara, grew up in the foster system. I heard her biological parents threw her out because she was bad luck." "I don't know how she scammed her way into the Vance family, but you guys should stay away from her. People like her are usually thieves. I heard her last foster family returned her because she kept stealing." "It's only because my parents are so charitable that they took pity on her and brought her in." The recording kept playing. Sentence after sentence of Chloe's lies echoed through the dead-silent office. Mr. Harrison stood with his mouth open, his glasses slipping off his face. Chloe’s face went entirely devoid of blood. The military aide professionally continued his report: "General Sterling, these materials were provided by the school's disciplinary committee. According to the investigation, since Clara transferred here, Chloe Vance has repeatedly spread false rumors among the student body to destroy Clara's reputation." His voice carried zero emotion, reading it like a battlefield casualty report. "Furthermore, according to Clara's previous homeroom teacher, Chloe used her status as the Vance family heiress to privately request that Clara be seated in the back row, falsely claiming Clara had a history of violent psychiatric episodes." "This semester alone, Chloe ordered three classmates to go through Clara's backpack, steal her class notes, and shred them, later telling everyone Clara was just careless and lost them." "Additionally, Chloe anonymously wrote over a dozen derogatory slurs about Clara on the classroom chalkboard—" "Shut up!" Chloe suddenly shrieked. Her voice was like shattered glass scraping against metal. Her entire body convulsed. Her tear-streaked face looked feral, like a beautiful butterfly that had been stomped into the mud. "I did it! I did all of it! So what?!" She used the desk to drag herself to her feet, her legs shaking like jelly. She locked eyes with me, her gaze dripping with venom. "Clara, are you happy now?" She took a shaky step toward me. "You're the General's daughter! You're so lucky! You were lost for eighteen years, but you still had someone treating you like royalty! But what about me?!" Her voice cracked, echoing loudly off the walls. "I was brought into the Vance family when I was three! I spent every single day walking on eggshells, terrified that if I wasn't perfect, they'd send me back to the orphanage! Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up every morning terrified of being abandoned?!" She aggressively pointed at Richard and Eleanor. "And them?! They kept me as a trophy! They played the perfect loving parents in front of the cameras, but behind closed doors, who actually cared about me?!" "When they found you, they pretended they were so excited to bring you home to a life of luxury. But before you even arrived, they didn't even bother setting up a bedroom for you!" She sobbed, laughing hysterically, her voice hoarse and broken. "Clara, do you hate me?" I stayed silent for a long time. Then, I raised my hands and signed. No one in the room understood it. Arthur translated for me, his voice calm and steady: "She says, she doesn't hate you." "Hating you takes energy. She needs to save her energy to live her own life." Chloe froze. She stared at me, a violent storm of emotions swirling in her eyes—emotions I couldn't even begin to decipher. They surged like a tidal wave, then slowly receded, leaving behind nothing but an empty, hollow abyss. She didn't say another word. Arthur gently took my hand and led me toward the door. As we passed Richard, my footsteps faltered. Like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline, Richard shot his head up, his voice ruined. "Clara, Dad... Dad really didn't know! If I had known you were General Sterling's daughter, I..." He didn't finish the sentence. Because he saw my eyes. My gaze was dead calm. As still as a stagnant pool of water. How hilarious. My biological father’s regret wasn't because he hurt his child; it was because my adoptive father had too much power. I slowly raised my hands and signed a single phrase. Richard frantically looked at Arthur. "What did she say? What did she say?!" Arthur didn't translate immediately. He looked down at me, as if confirming it was what I wanted. I gave a tiny nod. Arthur looked up, his tone apathetic. "She says, the day she walked into your foyer, she made the exact same hand sign." Richard froze. "She was saying—" Arthur enunciated every syllable clearly, "—I didn't do it." Richard looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, paralyzed on the spot. That day, when I stood in the Vance family's foyer, I saw how fiercely they loved Chloe. I saw them lovingly peeling fruit and feeding it to her. I had harbored a secret, desperate hope that my biological parents were good, loving people. But the moment I walked in, their glares hit me like physical slaps, making me feel utterly worthless. When Chloe accused me of spreading rumors, I had desperately signed that exact same phrase. Back then, they couldn't be bothered to look. They just assumed I was putting on an act. Now, they couldn't understand the signs, yet they were begging someone to translate for them. How ironic. I looked away and followed Arthur out the door.
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