Chapter 1
“Who’s there?”
I nearly collapsed to the ground, accidentally shattering the glass door.
I heard Dorian’s voice from inside–the voice of my Alpha.
Shock stole my breath. My vision blurred.
After a moment, hearing no further noise, the room filled again with the sound of
intense, intertwined panting.
I turned and ran, blind and bleeding, until I reached home. I don’t know how.
When I turned on the light, I saw a trail of bloody footprints leading from the door.
Only then did I realize that, in my rush to find Dorian, I had run out barefoot.
Numbly, I pulled a shard of glass from the sole of my foot, blood pooled from my foot-
but nothing hurt like what I’d just heard.
The fever still clung to me, burning through the betrayal.
Because of the treatment for the fever, my hearing had returned, only to be followed by
the betrayal of my mate.
I lay on the couch in a daze, tears gradually soaking the pillow.
How I wished this was all a dream.
A dream where nothing had happened, and in half a month, I’d still be Dorian’s bride,
walking toward the wedding and the safe harbor I’d longed for over the past ten years.
But the cries of the pup upstairs and the honking of cars outside reminded me that
everything was real.……..
I don’t know how much time passed before a sharp pain shot through my foot.
Opening my eyes, I saw Dorian holding my foot, carefully picking out the remaining tiny glass fragments and gently applying medicine.
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Taking care of me seemed to have become his habit over the past ten
After skillfully bandaging my foot, he noticed me watching him.
He didn’t ask where the injury came from.
years.
Instead, he complained with an irritated expression, “Knowing you’re deaf, why can’t you just stay home?”
Perhaps realizing a deaf person couldn’t hear him, he frowned and said coldly, “This is exactly why I don’t want to marry an Omega like you.”
Those words made my heart clench.
I suddenly remembered high school, when a group of kids followed me, laughing and talking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
So I kept walking as if nothing was wrong.
But Dorian, who came to pick me up, rushed forward without hesitation and got into a fight with them.
In the end, battered and bruised, he held me in his arms, heartbroken.
Confused, I asked him why he fought.
“They called you deaf… Mireya, you’re not deaf. You have ears, and I’ll be your ears…
That day, he cried so hard, his tears falling onto me one by one.
It was the first time I truly realized how cruel and desolate the world of a deaf person
could be.
But I didn’t care, because Dorian had promised he’d always be my ears.
Now that my hearing had returned, why was the word “deaf” coming from Dorian’s
mouth?
Tears nearly spilled over.
I dug my nails into my palm to hold them back.
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Perhaps my expression gave me away.
He pursed his thin lips and quickly signed to me, “Does it hurt a lot?”
Before I could respond, his phone vibrated.
Without hesitation, he played a voice message–from Lacey: “Dorian, you’re so naughty, kissing me until my legs went weak~”
Lacey and Dorian were college classmates.
Later, she became his Beta.
They often exchanged voice messages.
Though sometimes it was in the middle of the night, I always trusted Dorian and assumed they were discussing work.
“There’s naughtier stuff–wanna try it?”
Dorian replied, the smile never leaving his face.
“Who are you chatting with?”
My sudden voice startled him.
But he quickly regained his composure and signed, “A client. There’s an urgent
shipment.”
The moment he finished signing, he sent another voice message to her: “I bought Mireya some lingerie. It looks nice. I’ll get another set next time for you to wear for
me.”
“Ugh~~ I don’t want to wear the same thing as that cripple~~~”
I couldn’t take it—their moans, giggles, the disgusting intimacy. I turned and limped
away.
Clutching a photo of me with my parents, I curled up on the bed, pulling the blanket
over my ears.
I let the overwhelming despair drown me.
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But the door was too thin. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block out the shameless laughter and teasing from the living room.
Each word felt like a knife, cutting me apart.
This man isn’t the Dorian I knew. He’s filth. Poison. I’m done.
Their conversation didn’t last long before the loud slam of the front door echoed through the house.
He left.
