I spent three years with Charles, believing that even caring for an animal for three years would create some emotional bond.
But when his first love returned, everything shattered.
That night, I was tricked into attending the welcome party Charles personally hosted for her.
At the party, she casually remarked, "I don't like it when someone wears the same dress as me."
Without hesitation, Charles threw me out like I was a beggar.
Later, when I was offered a position at Magnify Group, he personally canceled my employment and ensured that no other company would hire me.
He explained, "I just don't want you to work so hard."
When my mother questioned him about our relationship, he coldly said, "We’re just using each other, that’s all."
That night, when I returned home, he warned me that he would never marry me. The only woman he’d marry would be someone of his status.
But, he added, "You’ll be the only woman I’ll keep outside of my marriage. I love you."
I was so disgusted I felt like throwing up.
That was when I gave up on him completely.
The day Charles got engaged to his first love, I left Chicago.
I returned five years later, bringing with me a sweet, adorable daughter.
When Charles saw my daughter, who bore an 80% resemblance to me, he was overjoyed.
How laughable. Did he really think the child was his?
***
This morning, before Charles left for work, I was tying his tie for him. His handsome face remained expressionless as he said, "I’ll be home late tonight. Don’t wait up for me."
A faint disappointment crept into my heart. Had he forgotten? Today was my birthday.
But around noon, I received a call from Lily, the eldest daughter of the Miller Family. Normally, she would mock me relentlessly at any gathering Charles brought me to, but this time, she sounded unusually polite.
"Tonight at 8 PM, at Golden Pavilion, Charles has prepared a surprise for you. You must come! Without you, the party won’t be complete. Oh, and he’s arranged a dress for you—you’re going to be the star of the evening! Just make sure to arrive exactly at 8 PM," she said, laughing cheerfully.
Instead, I felt flattered and a little thrilled. So, Charles hadn’t forgotten after all. He just wanted to surprise me.
That afternoon, I received a package containing a stunning evening gown. It was so beautiful it took my breath away, though the deep rose-red color wasn’t to my taste—it was too bold for me.
Still, filled with anticipation, I arrived at Golden Pavilion at precisely 8 PM.
The servant escorted me inside to an outdoor party buzzing with life.
The women wore luxurious gowns and the men were dressed in perfectly tailored suits.
As I stepped into the dazzling scene, I hesitated. It was my first time attending such a high-society event. Charles had never brought me to gatherings like this before.
The moment I entered, I felt all eyes turn toward me.
But what caught my attention most were the two most radiant figures at the center of the party.
Charles looked breathtakingly handsome in a perfectly tailored suit that highlighted his noble demeanor. Normally cold and aloof, his expression softened surprisingly as he gazed at a woman beside him.
I had never met her, yet her name slipped from my mind as if I had always known it: Susan.
Her alluring features, delicate face, and those captivating eyes—eyes that seemed to speak—resembled with mine by at least 50%.
And suddenly, I recalled how, whenever Charles was overcome with passion, he would always kiss my eyes and never my lips.
Looking back, I now realized Charles had reserved his last shred of purity for the one he truly loved.
Instinctively, I took a step back, wanting to escape.
But Lily wouldn’t let me retreat. She walked toward me with a hidden sense of satisfaction. Despite wearing high heels, she moved swiftly, as though relishing the moment.
"You’re already here—why leave so soon?" she asked, then forcefully dragged me to the center of the party, right in front of Charles and Susan.
When she let go, she pushed me hard, causing me to stumble and fall to the ground. I landed in an awkward, humiliating heap.
Charles’s face darkened. He started to reach out instinctively, but Susan caught his arm just in time. With a charming smile, she said, "Charles, thank goodness you were there to steady me. Otherwise, I’d have ended up embarrassing myself like this young lady." She even playfully stuck out her tongue as she finished speaking.
I struggled to get up on my own, but the fall had creased my dress, making it look unkempt and awkward.
Charles’s expression was ice-cold as he asked, "Why are you here?"
Before I could respond, "Wasn’t it you who—?" Lily cut me off.
"You couldn’t possibly have shown up just to ruin the party, right? Maybe you thought you could steal Susan’s spotlight after hearing Charles threw this welcome party for her return?"
"I didn’t! You were the one who called me here!" I tried to explain.
The crowd’s attention shifted to Lily, but her expression remained unchanged. "Yes, I did call you—but only to tell you not to come and embarrass yourself. Honestly, with Susan here, what business does a stand-in have showing up and acting so brazenly? You really are shameless."
Then, she sneered with exaggerated disdain. "And why is your dress identical to Susan’s? You can’t tell me you’re not here to provoke her. Women like you, from small, insignificant families, are always so vulgar."
Her words stung, leaving my face burning with shame. I couldn’t even find the words to defend myself.
Lily wasn’t done yet. With the mock surprise, she covered her mouth dramatically. "Oh, right! Susan’s dress was a custom order from abroad—Charles went through so much trouble to get a one-of-a-kind design for her. So what’s this that you’re wearing? A knockoff? Hahaha! Some people really are like cheap imitations. Compared to the real thing, they’re nothing but worthless."
In their elite circles, counterfeit goods were the ultimate insult. And in their eyes, I was just like the dress I wore—a lowly imitation, utterly beneath them.
The looks they gave me were filled with ridicule, disdain, and mockery.
I thought Charles would be different. After all, we had been together for three years. Even if I was nothing more than a dog to him, surely there would be some shred of affection.
But when I turned to him, all I saw was cold indifference, as though he were an observer, far removed from the humiliation I was enduring.
Susan’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction, though her words were soft and seemingly considerate. "Charles, you know how much I dislike wearing the same thing as someone else. It’s not that I have anything against this young lady, but I just can’t bear to be dressed the same as someone else at such an important occasion. Maybe I should just leave."
Charles immediately grabbed her wrist. "You’re the guest of honor tonight. If you leave, what’s the point of the party?" His voice carried a hint of indulgence and helplessness.
Then he turned to me, his gaze sharp and unforgiving. "Do I need to ask someone to escort you out, Jessica?"
The way he said my name was colder than I had ever heard it before. It reminded me of how he only called me warmly, tenderly, when we were alone.
A silent tear slid down my cheek. On my birthday, I was thrown out like a stray dog, humiliated and broken.
And the person who drove me out wasn’t Susan. It was Charles, the man I loved most.
I spent three years with Charles. Three years—long enough to grow attached to an animal, let alone a person.
But on the day his first love returned, everything changed.
I was deliberately lured into attending the welcome party he personally hosted for her.
When Susan casually remarked, "I don’t like it when others wear the same dress as me," Charles didn’t hesitate. He threw me out like a beggar.
After I left, whispers swirled in the room.
Some mocked me as a clown, suggesting I’d come to assert dominance but ended up leaving like a beggar, a pitiful joke.
Others speculated I was playing the victim, hoping Charles would chase after me.
But Charles stayed where he was, standing proudly at Susan’s side, his actions speaking louder than words.
***
Some couldn’t help but felt pity for Jessica as she left, her fragile figure was fading into the distance. Someone murmured softly, "Charles, the Jay Pritzker Pavilion is over ten miles from the Chicago and it’s hard to get a cab. Do you think Jessica will walk all the way back?"
This person didn’t have any real malice toward Jessica. In fact, they remembered how she always greeted them politely whenever she met Charles’s friends. Her gentle smile, paired with her dimples, made her seem innocent and sincere—something entirely different from Susan.
Charles had lit a cigarette at some point. He held it between his lips, his gaze cold and detached as he glanced at the speaker.
"If you feel pity her so much, why don’t you send her off?"
His icy stare was enough to make the person shiver. They quickly shook their head and stammered.
"No, no, I was just joking."
But the heavens seemed unkind, and soon, a light drizzle began to fall.
The outdoor banquet quickly activated its rain cover, allowing the glamorous guests to remain as elegant as ever, chatting and laughing as if nothing had changed.
The rain, however, grew heavier. The wind howled through the night, its eerie sound contrasting sharply with the lively chatter under the canopy.
Charles’s cigarette burned down one after another, the smoke curling around him like a mist. His face was obscured, his expression unreadable. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, adding a sense of casual disarray to his usual composed demeanor.
A sudden clap of thunder shook the air.
He abruptly stood up, as if intending to leave. But just as he lifted his foot to take a step, a soft figure threw itself into his arms.
Susan’s tearful eyes shimmered as she looked up at him, her voice trembling, "Charles, please don’t go. I’m scared of the thunder."
His Adam’s apple bobbed as if hesitating, but in the end, he gently patted her back to comfort her.
"I won’t leave."
In the flickering light of the storm, Lily stood nearby, her face twisted with malice, making her look especially sinister. She sneered, her voice low but venomous, "Such a fierce thunderstorm… I really hope the heavens strike that wretched Jessica dead."
Hatred burned brightly in her eyes, as if it could consume everything in its path.
The ten-mile road stretched endlessly before me. Rain drenched my dress, making it cling to my skin, heavy and freezing.
The high heels on my feet felt like instruments of torture, each step cutting into the soles of my feet and scraping my heels raw.
I finally took them off and carried them in my hand, walking barefoot on the cold, wet pavement. Somehow, it was a relief.
Raindrops kept battering my face, blurring my vision, while the booming thunder roared in my ears.
As if things couldn’t get worse, I accidentally stepped on shattered glass.
The sharp pain shot through my foot, and the metallic tang of blood mixed with the smell of rain. It was too much to bear. My knees buckled and I fell to the ground, crying uncontrollably in the storm.
A pair of headlights approached in the distance, growing brighter as they neared.
Instinctively, I closed my eyes. In that moment, I dared to hope—
"Charles, is it you…?"
The car drove right past me.
That faint hope shattered entirely, and I laughed bitterly through my tears. How ridiculous. He was probably celebrating with his precious Susan right now.
Just as I was about to pick myself up, a black umbrella suddenly appeared over my head.
For a moment, I dared to hope again. My voice trembled as I murmured, "Charles, you…?"
When I looked up, it wasn’t his familiar face. Instead, I saw a stranger—handsome, with striking features and sparkling peach blossom eyes.
"Do you need help?" he asked gently, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t worry, I’m not a bad guy. I saw you fall on the road and wanted to see if you were okay."
The deserted road was drenched in rain, and the only sounds were the relentless pounding of water against the ground and the occasional crack of thunder.
At first, I was on guard, uneasy about being alone with a stranger.
But as I looked at him standing there, holding a black umbrella tilted toward me, I noticed how one of his shoulders was already soaked because he had shifted the umbrella to cover me.
Gradually, my defenses lowered.
"I… stepped on some broken glass, and I can’t get a ride. The city is still six or seven miles away," I admitted, my voice breaking as my nose stung with suppressed tears.
He extended a clean, white hand toward me and said warmly, "Let me take you home."
