On Valentine’s Day, Michael didn’t have time to accompany me.

Instead, he spent lavishly to propose to someone else under a grand fireworks display that the whole city knew about.

We had been together for three years and I had done everything a wife would for him.

Yet he never once agreed to make our relationship public.

I once jokingly asked him if he was being so cautious because he was afraid of breaking another woman’s heart.

It wasn’t until the enormous diamond ring slipped onto her finger and others congratulated him on his seven-year long-distance relationship finally reaching its happy ending, that I realized I was the “other woman” all along.

For three years, I had been with the Crown Prince of Altheris’s elite circle, hiding my identity as the Princess of Zeroth City, indulging him in a whirlwind of role-playing games in our so-called passionate love.

Yet, he never once agreed to make our relationship public.

One night, when he didn’t come home again, my best friend joked, asking if he had another woman outside.

He didn’t answer and I refused to believe it.

It wasn’t until, under the grandest fireworks display in the city, he knelt on one knee to propose to someone else.

Only then did I realize—I was the other woman.

——

The year I ran away from home and was bullied in the workplace, I was drenched in alcohol when Michael, the Crown Prince of Altheris’s elite circle, saved me. He took me back to his villa and kept me hidden like a treasured canary for three years.

He gave me endless money, boundless indulgence and a life of enviable luxury.

Night after night, he would collapse from exhaustion on our shared bed, calling me “honey” as he drifted off to sleep.

Yet in public, Michael always pretended not to know me.

Even when we brushed past each other, he avoided meeting my eyes as if even the slightest acknowledgment was taboo.

But under the same table, he would shamelessly hook my long legs as if no one else existed.

One night, when he didn’t come home again, my best friend teased, asking if he had another woman outside.

Michael smiled faintly, his slender fingers casually twirling a strand of my hair by my ear.

“My kidneys aren’t strong enough to handle two women.”

“Whether there’s another woman or not, she’ll find out tonight.”

I blushed furiously and amidst our playful banter, the topic was brushed aside.

Until this Valentine’s Day, when he canceled on me due to work obligations. Feeling disappointed, I went to the seaside with my best friend to watch the fireworks.

But on a luxurious yacht, I saw Michael holding a girl in a flowing white dress. He knelt on one knee and flamboyantly pressed a button on the device in his hand.

The sudden burst of dazzling fireworks lit up the sky, forming a giant heart and the words “Love You” above us—a deliberate and grand gesture of affection from Michael to that girl.

It wasn’t until that girl, her eyes brimming with tears, threw herself into Michael’s arms and the onlookers screamed their congratulations for the Crown Prince’s seven-year relationship finally reaching its happy ending, that I realized—I was the other woman all along.

Tears fell into the smoke filled with love and I stood there like a poisoned fool, incapable of doing anything but cry.

“You’re moved too, aren’t you? Seven years of perseverance, four years of long-distance love and over three hundred flights spanning twenty-one hours roundtrip—how difficult it must have been for them.”

The young girl looked at the golden couple on the yacht with admiration and kindly shoved a glow stick into my hand.

“The Crown Prince is generous, spending 4 million dollars to set up this proposal. If you wave this glow stick with me for two hours, you’ll earn 70 dollars. My friend couldn’t make it, so the chance to make money is yours.”

My best friend couldn’t stand it and quickly grabbed my hand, stopping me from accepting the glow stick.

“My friend has a jinx and I’m afraid they won’t end up together. Let’s forget about it.”

Pulling me to the side of the road, she scolded me. “It’s just a man, what’s so great about him? If you don’t have him, there are thousands more. I’ll get you some options right now.”

She dragged me to the biggest nightclub in the city. Surrounded by male models pouring drink after drink into me, I ended up vomiting uncontrollably.

I stepped out to catch my breath, only to unexpectedly run into Michael. It turned out this bar’s VIP room had been regularly reserved by Michael.

To celebrate his girlfriend accepting his proposal, he brought along his friends to party all night.

From behind the door of the VIP room, I could hear Michael’s friends teasing him.

“Michael’s getting married, does that mean he’s going to settle down?”

“What about that little girl you’ve been seeing on the side?”

"If not. Let us have her instead; she's just a plaything anyway."

"To be honest, it's rare to find such a pure canary. Name your price—one million? four million dollars? Or seven million dollars?"

"No!" Michael firmly refused.

The faces of the others froze and my heart leaped into my throat.

But in the next moment, he took a casual sip of his drink, narrowed his eyes slightly and said with a faint smile. "Someone this easy to fool is worth at least a hundred million dollars."

He regarded me as a canary with a clear price tag.

It felt like a needle piercing my heart.

Unable to hold back any longer, I turned around, fled into an empty private room and broke down into uncontrollable tears.

Then, an unfamiliar number lit up my phone screen.

"Hello, is this Ms. Taylor Ashley?"

I composed my voice and replied. "Yes. May I ask who this is?"

The person on the other end let out a sigh of relief and replied with a soft chuckle. "I'm Michael's fiancée. You left something in his car. May I send you a picture so you can check."

Driven by curiosity, I couldn't wait to see what kind of woman had earned a place so close to Michael's heart.

"Sure," I agreed without hesitation.

A minute later, she sent me a picture of a black lace maid outfit.

It was one of Michael's favorite "desserts" in bed who was always chasing excitement and new thrills.

In these role-playing games, he cast me as the maid. While it was all just pretend for him, I was the only one who truly immersed myself in the role.

In front of Michael's fiancée, I, the mistress, felt as if I had been stripped bare and thrown onto the street, exposed and shamed to my core.

"Ms. Ashley, you have a great figure, much fuller than other girls. But Michael's taste has changed quite a bit. He used to prefer pure and innocent styles. It doesn't matter. They’re all just playthings to vent his needs, props to spice things up—there's no difference. If he offers too little money, make him pay more. After all, a girl's youth is incredibly valuable."

Every word she said felt like a silent slap across my face, hitting me hard. My dignity and self-respect were shattered, leaving me barely able to hold my phone steady.

I wasn’t a mistress, but no one believed me. In their seven years together, I had spent three years living in a villa on the outskirts of Altheris. Even though we did everything a married couple would, how many people besides Michael’s group of friends even knew I existed?

The one kept in the dark, hidden from the world, had always been me.

My silent trembling seemed to be noticed by her and she asked, "Will you come to pick it up, or should I mail it to you?"

I forced myself to stay calm and replied, "Trash like that? Just throw it away. I don’t need it."

I meant not just the outfit, but Michael as well.

She remained calm and composed, refusing to send another word my way.

Like a desperate voyeur in the dark, I couldn’t resist opening her social media feed, searching for traces of their love story.

But her feed was spotless—just pictures of travels around the world and a single photo of her pulling a suitcase with one hand.

That hand had roamed over me countless times.

It had held mine, time and again, as we watched the stars and talked about the moon.

He had even slipped a ring onto my finger, a symbol of loyalty and honesty.

Three years together, how could I not know it was Michael?

The caption beneath the photo was simple. [With one sentence, I'm back, no matter how late it is, someone will pick me up.]

Like an obsessed fool, I couldn’t stop staring at her post, even checking the time she shared it.

Three weeks ago, at 2 a.m.?

That day, I was wearing the black stockings personally chosen by Michael. After one glass of wine after another, I was pushed onto the floor covered in candles by him.

He kept teasing me, igniting thunder and lightning that made me go crazy.

But just as he was about to tear off the black stockings, his phone rang. He instinctively tried to turn it off, but upon seeing the message, he quickly pulled away from me.

The desire in his dark eyes instantly disappeared. He didn’t even throw me something to cover myself with and after grabbing his coat, he rushed out.

“I have an urgent matter. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut and my desires were crushed in the gap of the door, while he didn’t return for an entire week.

Every day, a report message showed his hectic schedule, as if he was so busy that he couldn't even find time to rest.

One after another, his good buddies would cover for him. But it turned out, his so-called business was actually spending time with his official girlfriend.

Three years of memories, all too vivid. The pain turned into hatred, hatred for my own foolishness in believing that was love.

Utterly disappointed, I called my brother with tears in my eyes: "I want to come home."

"Had enough of wandering? I told you long ago, why give up being a young rich lady to become a small clerk in Altheris? Now you see how harsh society can be, huh? So, when are you coming back?"

"Tomorrow night’s flight!"

"That soon?"

"Yes, very soon."

After hanging up, a message from Michael popped up on WhatsApp. It was a picture of fireworks blooming, with a giant heart shape filled with thousands of tiny hearts, taken from the angle of a yacht. It was a photo taken by Michael himself.

[Do you like it? I knew you would, I took it just for you.]

He gave the grand wedding ceremony to someone else but kept the pictures for me. Michael was not only frugal but also very cunning. Tears fell onto my screen as I enlarged Michael's insincere words.

"Like my heart, it’s full of you. Romantic, isn't it?"

If I hadn't been there to witness him passionately kissing that woman until they were almost out of breath, I might have believed it.

Wiping away my tears, I replied with two words: "So romantic."

Your love spans mountains and oceans, a cross-border romance.

Back in the private room, I pulled my best friend along. She was confused, so I asked her, "Didn't you say you wanted to get rich? I'm here to help you with that."

We quickly contacted a second-hand luxury goods company. I sold all my luxury bags, jewelry and the clothes and shoes filling my wardrobe at a heavily discounted price. Even the sofa, bed and kitchenware I had personally chosen were moved to my friend's place by a moving company.

"It's all yours. Use what you can and throw away what you can't. I won't leave a single thing I earned over three years for anyone else."

Before dawn, half of the villa was emptied. I received a check for four million, which was the price I paid for being in a gilded cage for three years. It was the exact same amount Michael spent proposing to his beloved, how cheap.

My best friend looked at the drastically changed villa in disbelief. "What's the difference from a bare shell?"

What a good idea.