The Untouchable Golden Canary

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.