She's Not A Rose

Charles Dickson will transfer five million dollars to me every time he cheats. After three years of being together, I've saved enough money to last a lifetime.

This time, he transfers ten million dollars to me. I immediately pack my things and make a run for it when I see the money in my account.

By the time he tracks me down, I've started a career as a teacher. He looks disdainful. "Enough of this nonsense. What can you teach them?"

I run my mouth. "I'm using my experience to teach young women how to find a rich, generous husband who's always away from home, of course!"

That strikes a nerve. His eyes turn red with rage as he snaps, "Am I nothing but a teaching tool to you, Chloe?"

"Of course not!" I say. Before he can feel pleased, I continue, "At most, you're a failed specimen because you always come home…"

I had been with Charles Dickson for three years and managed to save up quite a bit during that time. I went from a broke college student to someone with a decent amount of money.

It wasn't because he loved me so much. Every time he cheated on me, he compensated me with five million.

Of course, I wouldn't give up that much money just for the sake of pride.

So I stayed by his side, diligently playing the role of a devoted girlfriend who was head over heels in love.

A lot of people in our circle laughed at me. They assumed that even if I caught Charles in bed with another woman one day, I'd just turn a blind eye and pretend nothing happened so I could stay with him.

Honestly, I agreed with them. If they knew I'd be given a few hundred million because of Charles' cheating, they'd probably say I was lucky. Compared to that kind of money, getting cheated on didn't seem like such a big deal.

But this time felt different. I received ten million at once. I felt a bit uneasy.

Unlike most men who cheated, Charles still came to me often. His needs were high. Even though we always used protection and I got regular check-ups, it still made me feel worried.

Deep down, I despised him. The thought of a man being shared by so many women was just too disgusting to even think about.

As I stared at the new bank transfer notification, I couldn't help but struggle with my thoughts.

On one hand, there was this high-paying "job" that came with the risk of catching some disease. On the other hand, there was freedom with no more money.

My eyelids twitched as I pictured myself covered in sores and pus from some nasty disease. I couldn't risk my life for money, right? Besides, I already had enough to call myself a millionaire.

I could be just like Charles and keep a few handsome young guys around if I wanted. I could flip the script and