Charles Dickson will transfer five million dollars to me every time he cheats. After three years of being together, I've saved enough money to last a lifetime.

This time, he transfers ten million dollars to me. I immediately pack my things and make a run for it when I see the money in my account.

By the time he tracks me down, I've started a career as a teacher. He looks disdainful. "Enough of this nonsense. What can you teach them?"

I run my mouth. "I'm using my experience to teach young women how to find a rich, generous husband who's always away from home, of course!"

That strikes a nerve. His eyes turn red with rage as he snaps, "Am I nothing but a teaching tool to you, Chloe?"

"Of course not!" I say. Before he can feel pleased, I continue, "At most, you're a failed specimen because you always come home…"

I had been with Charles Dickson for three years and managed to save up quite a bit during that time. I went from a broke college student to someone with a decent amount of money.

It wasn't because he loved me so much. Every time he cheated on me, he compensated me with five million.

Of course, I wouldn't give up that much money just for the sake of pride.

So I stayed by his side, diligently playing the role of a devoted girlfriend who was head over heels in love.

A lot of people in our circle laughed at me. They assumed that even if I caught Charles in bed with another woman one day, I'd just turn a blind eye and pretend nothing happened so I could stay with him.

Honestly, I agreed with them. If they knew I'd be given a few hundred million because of Charles' cheating, they'd probably say I was lucky. Compared to that kind of money, getting cheated on didn't seem like such a big deal.

But this time felt different. I received ten million at once. I felt a bit uneasy.

Unlike most men who cheated, Charles still came to me often. His needs were high. Even though we always used protection and I got regular check-ups, it still made me feel worried.

Deep down, I despised him. The thought of a man being shared by so many women was just too disgusting to even think about.

As I stared at the new bank transfer notification, I couldn't help but struggle with my thoughts.

On one hand, there was this high-paying "job" that came with the risk of catching some disease. On the other hand, there was freedom with no more money.

My eyelids twitched as I pictured myself covered in sores and pus from some nasty disease. I couldn't risk my life for money, right? Besides, I already had enough to call myself a millionaire.

I could be just like Charles and keep a few handsome young guys around if I wanted. I could flip the script and start living life on my own terms.

As for work, I'd find something else. After all, staying healthy mattered more than anything. So, I made a decision. I was going to leave him.

I was ready to leave him, but I couldn't just cut him off right away. First, I still hadn't gotten my diploma. Second, I wanted to sell all the jewelry and handbags Charles had given me.

Every gift was part of my emotional compensation. If I didn't take them with me, I knew I wouldn't be able to rest easily.

The gifts filled an entire display case. I didn't know where to begin. While I stood there zoning out, Regina Maybelline sent me a video.

She had been secretly in love with Charles for years, but I ended up becoming his girlfriend. She'd disliked me ever since.

The dark video appeared to have been shot in a private lounge. Charles was seated in the center of a crowd, and next to him was a woman in a white dress.

She looked a bit like me, but her expression was softer. Her eyes were slightly downturned, giving her a more delicate, pitiful look. My eyes naturally tilted up, which made me look sharper and harder to approach.

They were playing a game, and the bottle on the table pointed to the woman sitting next to Charles. Her challenge was to kiss a man at the table. Everyone jeered and egged her on.

Giggling, she snuggled into Charles' arms. "Charlotte is shy. Don't be too hard on her."

His words clearly showed he was protecting her.

"Come on, Charles, don't wimp out." In the next second, Charles cupped the woman's face and kissed her softly. That was where the video ended.

Regina sent another message. "Chloe, Charlotte is Charles' true love. You can't beat her, so you'd better leave him sooner rather than later."

A bit later, she added in a prickly tone, "I'm not warning you because I'm nice. I just dislike Charlotte more than I dislike you."

I couldn't help asking, "Who exactly is Charlotte?"

Regina replied right away with a long message, clearly something she had prepared and was just waiting for me to ask. As I skimmed through it, I realized their drama was as ridiculous as a soap drama.

Charlotte used to be called Daisy Jones. She was the housekeeper's daughter of the Dickson family. She and Charles were the same age and grew up together—childhood sweethearts, basically.

On Charles' 18th birthday, Charlotte offered herself to him as a gift.

When his parents found out, they were furious. They fired the housekeeper on the spot, gave them a large sum of money, and sent Charlotte overseas. Before she left, Charlotte secretly went to court and changed her name. She left Charles a letter before she went abroad.

"The old Daisy is gone. From now on, I'll be using your name as Charlotte Jones."

Charles fell into a depression for a while until he met me. I looked a lot like Charlotte. That was enough to reignite whatever spark he had left.

"Charlotte Jones," I repeated the name to myself.

Charles really had been shielding her from the spotlight. In all the years we'd been together, I had never heard the name once.

The only possible clue might have been Charles' social media handle, "Back2Char." When we first got together, I asked him why he used that username.

He narrowed his eyes and stared at the air as though lost in thought. After a long pause, he said, "I just wish I could turn back time and change my life for the better."

Back then, I didn't catch the deeper meaning behind his words. I just never thought someone like Charles, who always seemed so carefree, could have such a nostalgic side.

Now, everything made sense. Back2Char. All he ever wanted was for Charlotte to come back to him. He gave me ten million. Charlotte was worth him paying twice the usual price.

My chest tightened, and tears sprang to my eyes. It had been a long time since I cried for Charles. If I had broken down every time he cheated, my tears would have dried up ages ago.

But this time was different. I really loved him before. But he was only with me because I looked so much like his true love. He only saw me as a stand-in.

I first met Charles when I was 18 years old. I'd come from a poor border town in the northwest and been accepted into the best university in Hullston.

Right after I performed a traditional dance at the freshman welcome gala and returned backstage, I saw his friend request. He chased me for more than half a year, and everyone knew it. But my reputation on campus wasn't good. People talked behind my back.

"Chloe Borne from the literature faculty thinks she's really something just because she's pretty. And now she's got Charles eating out of her hand."

"She's just a country bumpkin. What kind of luck did she have to get tied to the Dickson family?"

"If Charles chased me, I'd say yes in a heartbeat."

"Just wait. I bet you anything Chloe won't be able to hold out for a month. She'll end up being his girlfriend."

Charles took care of the rumors, making a big public declaration of affection online.

"Yes, I'm chasing Chloe, but she hasn't accepted me yet. Everyone, please don't scare away my future girlfriend!"

I was too young back then and saw him as my savior, the one who rescued me from vicious gossip. I confused gratitude with love and accepted his pursuit, neglecting the fact that without him, I wouldn't have been in that gossip mill to begin with.

It took me three years to realize Charles was only making me fill in for someone else. That intense first love in my youth was nothing but a grand delusion.

I spent a while moping about it, then snapped to reality when I looked at my bank balance. That was when I discovered Charles hadn't come home that night. Normally, he never slept elsewhere. Even if he fooled around until dawn, he would still come back to sleep beside me.

I always felt annoyed, thinking he was ruining my rest. This time, he didn't come back, and I got madder.

Damn Charles for not even telling me he wasn't coming home. I waited all night for no reason.

Then, I realized it made sense. Charlotte was, after all, his true love. She wouldn't get the same treatment as other women.

I was happy about the peace and decided to get some sleep. While I was sleeping, I felt someone slide an arm around my waist. It was Charles.

"Honey, why didn't you wait for me tonight?"

He smelled strongly of booze, not fully conscious. He complained in a slurred voice as he nuzzled my neck from behind. Pretending to turn over, I shoved him off the bed. He hit the floor and just lay there, falling asleep.

I jumped out of bed and kicked him two times. Not wanting to share the same room, I moved to the couch in the living room instead.

His phone was on the table. A message popped up, like Pandora's box calling to me. I couldn't resist opening it. It was from Charlotte.

"Charles, I'm home. Thank you for seeing me off." There was only one page of chat history, apparently from earlier that night.

"Charlotte, don't listen to what they say. Chloe can't compare to you at all."

"I'm only messing around with her. You're the one I love most!"

Maybe his friends joked about my resemblance to Charlotte, and that made her unhappy. I scoffed at my own reflection on the phone's screen.

Charles, putting me down was just your way of flattering Charlotte, wasn't it? When Charles woke up sober, he went back to his aloof self. He had no intention of explaining the ten million dollars.

Seeing his calm, indifferent face, I was even less interested in poking around. Still, after thinking it over, I asked, "Why ten million this time?"

Maybe he'd say something honest.

"You've been with me long enough. That money's yours." He seemed nonchalant like he was swatting away some bothersome pet.

I was out of patience, so I cut to the chase. "It's because of Charlotte, right?"

He finally looked at me. "How do you know about her?"

"Doesn't matter. Since your true love is back, let's just break up. We can part on friendly terms."

"Stop joking around, Chloe. Charlotte and I are just friends."

"Friends? You mean the kind of friends who kiss each other?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, then chuckled. "So you're jealous. I only kissed her to help her out last night. Don't read too much into it."

I was beyond fed up. "Don't flatter yourself. I said I wanted to break up. Did you catch that?"

Something about that set Charles off. He shot to his feet. "Chloe, don't be ridiculous! Everything you have today is because I paid for it! You're living off me! If there's going to be a breakup, that's definitely not your call to make!"