He Married His First Love, Then Made Me His Mistress

I sat in silence as the stylist fussed over me for two hours. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I could barely recognize the woman looking back.

Once, I was just an ordinary girl chasing her dreams through art.

Everything changed the moment I met Dexter.

Now, with the illusion finally unraveling, I told myself, let this be the last celebration.

As we stepped out of the car, a sharp gust of wind swept by. Dexter, ever so considerate, slipped off his jacket and moved to drape it over my shoulders, but then came a sweet voice. “Brother Dexter!”

His hand froze. The coat nearly slipped from his grasp.

We turned toward the sound. That profile was undeniable. The same angle as the photos. It was Heidi.

Dexter’s expression darkened instantly. “Why are you here?”

“I’m also in the competition…” Heidi stammered, biting her lip just before the tears began to fall.

With acting like that, she didn’t need a canvas. She needed a red carpet. The Oscars owed her a trophy.

Dexter was caught off guard and reached out awkwardly to wipe her tears, but I grabbed his hand and walked straight into the venue. “It’s starting.”

I didn’t believe it was a coincidence. After all her provocations, it was clear. She wanted to see me crack in front of Dexter.

She wanted a scene. A confrontation. She wanted everything laid bare.

But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

Throughout the award ceremony, Heidi kept casting glances in Dexter’s direction.

He leaned over, his voice low, saying they hadn’t seen each other in years, that he didn’t even know she was back in the country.

I said nothing.

Then came the announcement of the first prize. The host’s voice shifted, taking on a serious tone.

“There’s been some controversy regarding the first prize. We received a late submission that appears nearly identical to the judges’ original selection. Due to plagiarism concerns…”

“The committee has chosen to withhold the award. Both pieces will be exhibited, and the artists are asked to clarify the situation.”

There it was, my painting.

And next to it, a piece disturbingly similar.

“I heard some big name’s searching for a protégé! Stakes are high this year!”

“High stakes or not, plagiarism? That’s crossing the line. Just look, the one on the right clearly copied the left!”

“Not so sure. Maybe the left one’s just less refined, and the right borrowed the idea?”

“Doesn’t matter. Whoever’s at fault is finished. In the art world, one scandal like this and you’re done.”

The chatter swelled louder and louder, voices buzzing with tension.

Then the host revealed the name of the artist who had copied my work, Heidi.

She froze, her face flushing a deep, furious red.

That painting had been finished long ago. It had hung in the master bedroom on the 79th floor.

When I entered the competition on a whim, I had casually selected that piece.

She must have seen it in Dexter’s room.

Copied it on purpose. To provoke me.

To prove she had even shared his bed.

She never expected I’d use that exact painting for the competition.

“I completed this piece a long time ago. It’s been hanging in my boyfriend’s bedroom ever since. It was inspired by a trip we took together. His family photos can verify it, and he personally watched me paint it.”

Then I turned and handed the microphone to Dexter.

“Boyfriend’s word doesn’t count as proof!” someone from the crowd called out.

But another voice cut in.

“Her boyfriend’s the president of the Laurence Group! She’s not some amateur. She didn’t plagiarize. She probably joined just for fun!”

“No way she copied anything. I know her. Dexter’s bought out her entire gallery more than once, just to spoil her. She’s not here to compete. She’s just playing.”

People were quick to side with the powerful. They didn’t even stop to think.

But Dexter said nothing.

Heidi stood there, lip trembling, eyes glassy, wearing that same pitiful expression she always did.

After a long silence, Dexter leaned in and whispered into my ear, saying, “Heidi’s an artist. She can’t have this kind of stain on her record. I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding…”

I stared at him, stunned, as he stepped forward and took the microphone.

“My girlfriend’s just been spoiled by me. The Laurence Group is prepared to donate ten million to charity and purchase both paintings.”

“What do you mean, Dexter?! You saw me paint it with your own eyes! So your first love gets protected, but I get accused of plagiarism?!” I blurted out, unable to hold back.

Dexter wrapped his arm around me, speaking softly like he was soothing a child.

“I won’t let the media touch it, don’t worry. Heidi isn’t like you, art is her everything. But you? You don’t even have to paint if you don’t want to. I can take care of you. If you get bored, I’ll buy you two more galleries, okay?”

The host, hearing the words “ten million donation,” jumped in quickly to smooth things over:

“It’s completely normal for two artists to be inspired by the same landscape and express similar emotions!”

I glanced at Dexter and let out a quiet scoff.

Of course. I should’ve known.

He would twist black into white without blinking, just to shield Heidi.

He wouldn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus. Why else would he marry her behind my back?

Letting me stand accused of plagiarism meant nothing to him.

I was just a decoration, his hidden canary in a gilded cage.

But Heidi? She was the delicate flower he had to protect. The real artist. The one whose career had to remain spotless.

Who could I blame?

It was me who gave up my dreams for him. I agreed to play the role of his shadow.

I deserved it.

Amid the whispers and cruel murmurs growing louder around us, I tore my hand from Dexter’s grip and stormed out.