The Untouchable Golden Canary

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.