Perfect Socialite, Cruelest Lover

Thanks to the paparazzi sneakily taking a photo of Caitlin Randall in her swimwear, she's been rated as the most perfect woman in Lunbury for seven years in a row.

Countless men who wish to bed her can line up to the moon and back.

The thing is, everyone knows that Caitlin only favors me, the deaf man who stays by her side all the time.

When I was 18, I blew out my eardrums when I was saving Caitlin from danger. Since then, I can no longer hear the sounds and voices coming from the external world.

Whenever we're passionately entangled with each other in bed, Caitlin will always kiss my ears with red-rimmed eyes. But I can never hear what she tells me every time.

That is, until the night of Caitlin's birthday, when she blindfolds me and tells me that she wants to play a game. That's when I can finally hear her voice.

"Let's play something spicy, Terry."

Caitlin ties me up and convinces me to drink some alcohol. When the lashing heat pooling in my gut threatens to break me down, I'm so close to telling the truth to Caitlin—that my hearing is restored.

"Ms. Randall, the people and the tools are ready. Are you sure you want to do this to Mr. Boyer?"

When I hear the robotic voice coming from Caitlin's earpiece, I freeze up immediately.

But at that moment, she has already injected me with a dose of sedatives.

"Be a good boy, Terry. Everything will still be fine when you're asleep."

Before I could even process it, the drug had already taken effect, and I drifted into a heavy, groggy sleep.

A searing pain tore through my body. By the time I woke up, I was already dressed and lying in bed.

I shifted slightly, and a piercing pain shot through my lower body instantly.

The words I had just heard kept echoing in my mind. As I realized what might have happened, the color drained from my face bit by bit.

As the Randall family's only daughter, Caitlin Randall grew up in the lap of luxury without ever lifting a finger. She even had her own personal butler, Henry Weaver, to help her get dressed.

But when it came to anything concerning me, she always insisted on doing it herself.

Maybe I really did mishear just now. After all, didn't Dr. Alan Morse tell me that my hearing could be a bit impaired right after recovery?

Besides, the person Caitlin hated most in her life was Shane Tate, so how could they possibly still have anything going on between them?

"Caitlin, have you lost your mind? Even if you wanted someone to take the fall for the scandal of Shane being raped, you didn't have to actually have those men sexually assault Terry. How is he supposed to live with himself once he finds out?"

From inside the study came the hushed, furious voice of Caitlin's best friend, Leona Lambert.

Caitlin said nothing, her luminous eyes flickering between light and shadow under the lamplight.

"You don't understand, Leona."

"My ass, I don't! Have you forgotten how Shane treated you back then? When you were kidnapped, he turned his back and went abroad without a second thought. If it weren't for Terry, you'd be dead by now!"

Caitlin's fingers froze, and her back gradually stiffened. For a long moment, she said nothing more.

The abduction case that year had sent shockwaves through the entire city.

When the abductors called Shane, her fiance, he looked straight into the reporters' cameras and said in front of the whole world, "To me, a woman is nothing compared to my career. Besides, Caitlin has been going head-to-head with me for so many years, so what could possibly happen to her?"

Then, he boarded his flight without so much as a backward glance.

By the time the police arrived, the enraged abductors had already detonated the explosives. On pure reflex, I threw myself onto Caitlin, shielding her from the aftermath of the blast.

From that day on, I lay in a coma in the ICU for two whole months. When I finally woke up, I could no longer hear a sound.

Perhaps Caitlin was also reminiscing about what had happened back then, for she fell silent for a long time.

I took out my phone with trembling hands, and sure enough, I found a video on the trending searches.

In the footage, I was being folded into various positions by several leering men. The craft camera angles made me look almost exactly like Shane.

"What did I tell you? There's no way the person exposed could be Shane. A pampered rich heir like him could never sink as low as the son of a chauffeur."

"Ugh, that jerk Terry really deserves to die! Having a stunner like Caitlin isn't enough for him. He actually had to go out and let other men have their ways with him. I'm going to be sick just looking at this."

An overwhelming torrent of abuse was crashing down on me from all sides.

The more I read, the colder I felt all over.

Caitlin's voice, unhurried and measured, drifted out from inside. "Of course Shane has to pay for what he has done to me. But he's been proud his whole life, so this isn't the way he should go down in disgrace. Don't say a word of this in front of Terry. He has me protecting him, so he'll be fine."

I froze in place, gripping the phone so hard that my knuckles had turned white. It felt as though a piece of my heart had been carved out. Even breathing was painful.

This was exactly the sight that greeted Caitlin when she came out. Her expression shifted sharply. But when she noticed I wasn't wearing my hearing aids, she immediately let out a sigh of relief.

She signed to me in sign language, "Terry, why aren't you sleeping?"

My eyes were so bloodshot they looked crimson to the core.

"It's nothing. I just had a nightmare."

After getting back to bed, Caitlin nestled against my chest with tender concern and offered up her lips on her own accord.

I rolled over to avoid it. I was tormented by pain, both physical and emotional, so much so that it even hurt to breathe.

"I'm tired."

These years spent at Caitlin's side had indeed been like a dream.

It was just that it was time to wake up from it now.