For seven years, I was with Julian Rubinstein, and for seven years, I was never truly in his heart. His heart belonged to his 'first love', Kate Charleson. I was merely a placeholder when he and Kate broke up, a convenient Plan B. For seven years, they broke up and got back together, over and over, and I stayed by his side through it all. Finally, one time, they split for good, and I thought my wait was over. But just as he rolled off me, a satisfied smile still lingering on his face, he told me he wanted to break up. Kate was back. He said he knew I’d waited for him for years, but when it came to Kate, I would always be Plan B. I nodded, understanding. From the very first day we were together, I knew we’d break up eventually. I agreed to the split, then turned around to find my next conquest. But Julian, his eyes red with anger, chased after me, demanding to know how I could change my heart so quickly after waiting seven years. I tilted my head, looking at him. Quick? What was seven years for him? I’d waited eight years for the Crown Prince of the London elite, four years for the dashing playboy of the Manchester scene, and six years for the stoic, ethereal academic. I had a lot on my plate, actually. … “Let’s break up.” Julian said those words just as we finished a passionate encounter. The flush hadn’t even faded from my face, my mind still delightfully blank. I instinctively asked, “What did you say?” Julian’s brows furrowed. “Chloe, don’t play games. It’s unappealing.” “Since you heard me, there’s no need to drag it out. We were always going to break up.” He lit a cigarette, then tossed a card my way. The card slid off the duvet and onto the floor. “These past few months, thank you for taking care of my… needs.” “This is compensation.” Julian was always generous. I quickly got up, picked up the card, carefully brushed off the dust, and slipped it into my bag, smiling. “Thank you, Mr. Rubinstein.” Julian, however, seemed displeased with my reaction, and his brows furrowed again. “You’re not angry at all?” Truly, a high-maintenance character. I quickly tried to smooth things over, my smile extra sweet. “Not at all.” “Julian, I was already happy you agreed to be with me for this time.” “How could I ever be angry with you?” Julian narrowed his eyes in satisfaction, scratching my chin like he would a cat. “Good girl.” He dressed quickly and left in a hurry. I watched his retreating back and sighed. How could I be angry? If he hadn’t brought up breaking up, I would have been racking my brain on how to initiate it myself. After all, if I brought it up, it would be a blow to a man’s ego. Not having him fly into a rage was already a win. Let alone ending it peacefully with a generous severance package like today. Now this was perfect. I could happily and without worry move on to my next target. 2 I’m a serial dater, a heartbreaker. But over the years, I’ve cultivated a reputation for being deeply devoted. I’ve always made sure the men I ‘collect’ never cross paths. So each of them believes they’re my one exception. Take Alexander Sterling, for instance, convinced I’ve waited eight years for him. The aloof academic from London, exasperated by my six years of unwavering patience. Luke Hayes, the charming rebel from Manchester, often boasts about my four years of devoted waiting, making it a regular topic of conversation. The newer ones, not yet ranked, we won’t even mention for now. In short, Julian was just another ordinary page in my collection. But what did I do wrong? I’m just a woman who appreciates all things beautiful in this world, wanting to collect every handsome and attractive man. After all, who can resist a cunning and outwardly reserved CEO, a brilliant and calm academic, a wild and rebellious heir, an aloof and obsessive enigma, a sweet and loyal younger man who’s secretly a powerhouse, and so on? Of course, I’m very sensible. I absolutely never go after men who already have girlfriends. I only strike when they’re single. This creates the illusion that I’ve been waiting for each of them for many years. I put on a red, fitted mini-dress, grabbed my bag, and left the penthouse suite. As I walked out, a tall figure approached. I narrowed my eyes. He was a handsome man. Tall, long-legged, impeccably dressed in a suit with obsidian cufflinks on his pristine sleeves. A few strands of hair fell across his forehead, but couldn’t hide his sharp brows and piercing eyes. His nose was prominent, his lips thin and sensual. I let out an inward gasp. As I passed him, my fingers, light and fleeting, brushed against his. Then I feigned an exaggerated gasp. The man stopped, looking at me, his eyes unreadable. I smiled charmingly, batting my eyelashes: “Excuse me, handsome, in need of a girlfriend?” The handsome man looked quite mature, but his voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly boyish and a little naive: “Miss, can I help you?” My expression stiffened, and I let out a dry laugh. “You… you’re not underage, are you?” “My apologies then.” I awkwardly turned to leave, but the next moment, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I stumbled into the man’s embrace. His hot body pressed tightly against mine, the scent of expensive cologne swirling around my nose, making me feel dizzy. He leaned down, his deliberately lowered, magnetic voice falling into my ear, his breath scorching: “Sister, I’m eighteen.” … At the Rubinstein family estate. Julian entered with Kate Charleson. Kate’s gaze swept across the living room, then darkened. The roses on the table, the new slippers by the entrance, all declared the presence of another woman. Julian pulled her into his arms, but just as he was about to kiss her, Kate pushed him away. She grabbed his shirt collar. A lipstick mark was clearly visible. “Julian,” she said coldly, “What is this?” Julian paused, then, with a playful grin, explained: “Business dinner, you know, sometimes you have to play the part.” “Kate, let’s not talk about this right now, okay?” “Business dinner?” Kate curled her lip, then turned and pulled a torn pair of black stockings from the corner of the sofa. She shoved them in Julian’s face: “Is this also a business dinner? Julian, do business dinners require you to take off stockings? Were you having a ‘business dinner’ in bed?” “Kate—” Julian’s face darkened. He didn’t like being scrutinized by women. Besides, they had been broken up at that time. Was it a crime to see other women? Kate saw his annoyed expression, and her eyes began to redden. She silently threw down the stockings, grabbed her bag, and turned to leave. But Julian caught her arm. His voice softened as he called her: “Kate.” Tears immediately welled up in Kate’s eyes. Julian pulled her into a tight hug, resting his chin on her head, and gently coaxed: “Hubby was wrong, okay?” “I missed you too much, and I was drunk, so I mistook another woman for you.” “Kate, you know you’re the only one in my heart.” Kate cried out, her eyes red: “You men are all scoundrels, eating from the bowl while eyeing the pot!” “Breaking up and immediately looking for the next one.” Julian patted her back, soothing her for a long time. His words were full of endearments, calling her his dearest love and his only one, but his mind was elsewhere. He suddenly found himself missing Chloe’s good qualities. Chloe was so sensible; she never demanded to be coaxed, she was incredibly well-behaved. If he said one, she would never argue two. When he flirted outside, Chloe never questioned him. Unlike Kate, Kate was so delicate. She had to make a huge scene, then force him to humble himself and coax her. Julian suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Chloe’s obedience. She hadn’t argued or made a fuss when he dumped her, hadn’t dared to ask a single question. No temper at all. He wondered if she was secretly crying in her bed after he left. 3 I was indeed crying. Crying tears of pure bliss. Brent’s body, it hadn't stopped moving since. I had to admit, an eighteen-year-old young wolf was something else. His technique might be green, but his stamina was first-rate. After just a couple of adjustments, I was already struggling to keep up. Another round ended. I was utterly spent, collapsing into the bedding, completely motionless. Brent climbed on top of me again, biting my earlobe, his voice suggestive: “Sister… I want more.” I let out a long sigh, for the first time feeling like I wanted to surrender. … I didn’t expect to run into Julian again. That day, I went to a specialty lingerie shop I frequented. Lingerie, like men, should be changed often, kept fresh. Just like now, I’m into Brent, the young wolf, so I’m wearing black lace, sexy lingerie. Before, when it was Julian, who preferred Kate’s fiery personality, I would wear light green, fresh, girlish sets. I picked out a few styles, and as the sales assistant was packing them, I turned my head and came face to face with Julian. I froze for a moment, then realized. He must be with Kate Charleson. After all, in the three months we were together, he had never accompanied me to a place like a lingerie store. Julian saw me, and for a moment, his eyes showed surprise. I couldn't tell if it was delight or nervousness. He walked towards me, his hand naturally finding my waist. He smirked: “What, missing me? You actually followed me to a place like this.” I immediately realized he misunderstood, and uncomfortably pulled away: “Mr. Rubinstein, I’m sorry, I just came to buy some essentials.” “You’re mistaken.” But his eyes grew more intrigued: “Chloe, a few days apart, and you’ve learned to play hard to get? But I really have been thinking about you.” His gaze dropped to the lingerie bag the assistant had packed for me, and he smirked: “Black is nice. A change of style now and then, I quite like it.” He leaned in close to my ear: “Be a good girl, I’ll come find you soon.” A shiver of disgust ran down my spine. I don’t have a habit of being the other woman, nor do I like men who juggle two relationships. Julian was crossing a line. I was about to speak when the fitting room door opened, and Kate Charleson emerged. Seeing Julian and me, her face immediately changed. She strode over. Without a word, she slapped me across the face. I was caught off guard, my mind reeling. Kate’s chest heaved violently, and she pointed a finger at my nose, screaming: “You’re the other woman, aren’t you? Shameless hussy, taking advantage of me being away to seduce my boyfriend!” Everyone’s eyes turned, converging on me, whispering and pointing. Blood rushed to my head. No matter how good my temper was, I wasn’t going to take that slap for nothing. I immediately raised my arm, ready to strike back. Before I could touch her, my arm was grabbed. It was Julian. His gaze became suddenly cold and disgusted. He shoved me hard, and I crashed into the corner of a display cabinet. A sharp pain shot through my lower back, making me gasp. Julian said coldly: “What do you think you’re doing? You dare to lay a hand on my girlfriend right in front of me? Chloe, you’ve gotten bold.” Kate was pleased with his reaction. But she wasn't done with me. “Julian, who exactly is this woman? Why is she following you here? What is your relationship with her?!” Julian didn’t even glance at me: “Just some trashy girl, clung to me after one night out, climbed into my bed. She wouldn’t give up after I dumped her, kept tracking me down. We were just messing around.” “Kate, you know, you’re the only one in my heart.” I scoffed: “Julian, are you out of your mind? You just open your mouth and start spreading rumors about me, do you?” “And you,” I turned to Kate, “Please use your brain before you speak.” “Being the other woman means stealing a man, and he’s, at most, a second-hand item I picked up for a bit of fun. That’s all.” “Miss Charleson.” I looked at her coldly. “Spreading rumors carries legal consequences, you know.” “Also,” I pointed to the security camera, “I’ll be reserving my right to sue for that slap you gave me today. I hope you’ll act accordingly.” With that, I grabbed my things and walked out. Less than a minute later, my phone lit up with a text message. I opened it. It was from Julian.
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