The "Eyesore" Girlfriend:A Story of Love and Revenge

My boyfriend Brayden Kings dumped me, complaining that I always wore a white T-shirt and jeans, calling me an "eyesore."

After the breakup, he flaunted his new girlfriend, decked out in Chanel, right in front of me.

Oh, Chanel-just a few days ago, the brand had sent me their latest seasonal collection, now neatly stored in the wardrobe of my duplex villa.

1

On the 300th day of my relationship with Brayden, I excitedly brought him home to meet my parents.

Before the visit, my parents had warned me they'd pretend to be poor to test if Brayden was materialistic.

So, our sprawling duplex was reduced to a modest two-bedroom apartment, and my haute couture dresses, designer bags, and my fancy cars were temporarily hidden away.

I was confident Brayden wouldn't care about such superficial things -after all, he'd always known me as an "ordinary" girl with no notable background.

But the moment he stepped inside, his face fell.

I greeted him warmly, and he muttered a half-hearted greeting before placing a few gift boxes on the floor.

I glanced at them-cheap cookies and cakes, nothing worth more than 500 dollars.

It was just some cookies and cakes.

It felt like a thoughtless afterthought, not the kind of gift you bring when meeting his girlfriend's parents for the first time.

I pursed my lips, annoyed.

This was his chance to make a good impression, and he'd clearly blown it.

He ignored my disapproving look, sat on our second-hand sofa.

After wiping it down with a wet tissue, he started scrolling through his phone.

My mother Wendy's expression tightened, but she didn't judge.

"Let's eat first," she offered.

He responded and then stood up, walking to the dining table.

The spread was extravagant.

There were abalones, lobsters flown in from abroad, and an array of seafood.

I shot Wendy a look-this meal probably cost more than the down payment on the apartment.

Wow, Wendy might skimp on appearances, but she never skimped on good food.

Halfway through the meal, my mom put on her most diplomatic smile.

"Brayden, you and Lily have been together for a while now. If your parents are open to it, perhaps we could arrange a meeting between our families?"

Brayden paused, fork hovering over the largest piece of abalone, which he promptly claimed for himself.

He glanced around our modest apartment -the worn-out sofa, the outdated air conditioner, the cramped kitchen.

I twitched my mouth, thinking the apartment probably cost less than a thousand dollars.

The central air conditioning was outdated and inefficient; the model was likely from over a decade ago.

The kitchen was so small that when I went in to help Wendy serve dishes, there was no extra space for us to turn around.

The entire apartment wasn't even as big as the bathroom in my room.

I watched him as he clearly assessed our home.

He replied indifferently while chewing the food, "Maybe the other day. My parents are quite busy these days. I will let you know when they have time."

My parents exchanged a look but said nothing more.

On the way back home, neither of us spoke.

The next day, Brayden left early, only sending me a brief message.

"I'm going on a business trip with my manager. I'll be back in a few days."

I closed the chat without replying.

Later, my mom texted, "Sweetheart, this person isn't a good choice for you."

No, indeed, not even close.

That afternoon, as I worked on a project budget, my best friend Emma called.

"Is your boyfriend Brayden in Suropet? Do you know he's with another woman? They even kissed! I'll send you the photo!"

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a picture of Brayden passionately kissing his manager at a hotel entrance.

The woman's Chanel outfit caught my eye -it was a dated style, clearly worn for years.

Brayden had always nagged me about my casual wardrobe.

"Lily Timberlake, can't you dress up a bit?

Always in a white T-shirt and jeans-no femininity at all," he'd say.

Well, I thought, glancing at the latest Chanel collection in my villa's wardrobe, maybe he should've stuck around to see the real me.

2

I left Brayden's apartment, dragging my luxurious Hermès suitcase.

When he first saw it, I lied and told him it was a replica.

What he didn't know was that I'd pre-ordered it abroad for hundreds of thousands of dollars -an amount equivalent to his twenty-year salary.

Wendy had always taught me to stay humble and avoid flaunting wealth, so I'd told a white lie.

If only he'd behaved better during dinner, I wouldn't have been so disappointed.

I'd even planned to reveal my family's true wealth that night -like how the company he worked for was one of our investments, or how the building he lived in was part of my dad Simon's real estate empire.

If his parents had agreed, my family would've provided the car and house for our wedding.

After all, money wasn't an issue for us.

I'd even picked out a brand-new Mercedes-Benz G-Class SUV for him, thinking he'd love it.

The fully loaded model cost at least ten million, but I didn't mind.

What I couldn't stomach was the look of disdain on his face when he saw our modest apartment.

Thinking about it now, I couldn't bring myself to say a word.

I remembered lying in bed last night, with my back to Brayden, asking him, "Do you mind if my family is too poor?"

At that moment, I'd wanted to come clean about everything. We'd been together for nearly a year, and I still cared for him.

I didn't want to keep deceiving him.

But all he said was, " It's late, let's sleep," his tone cold and distant.

My words stuck in my throat, unspoken.

......

Wendy had made it clear she wasn't impressed with Brayden.

His lack of table manners, his failure to make eye contact when speaking to my parents, and his obvious disdain for our "poverty" all portrayed him as a shallow, materialistic man.

Still, I hadn't wanted to give up on him -until I saw the photo of him kissing another woman.

The betrayal stung like a slap to the face.

Brayden had returned from his two-day trip to Europe at midnight, reeking of another woman's perfume.

While he freshened up in the bedroom, his phone lit up with a message notification.

Something told me it wasn't work-related.

After all, who talked about work at this hour?

I unlocked his phone and saw he'd pinned a woman's contact at the top of his messages, labeling her "Baby."

She'd texted, "Are you home yet?"

The tone made it clear their relationship was far from innocent.

I scrolled through their chat history, my anger simmering.

They spent hours every day exchanging meaningless chatter, but it was Brayden who poured his heart out.

"Whenever you want to go somewhere, just tell me," he'd written. "As long as I'm free, I'll take you wherever you want to go."

He'd never spoken to me with such tenderness. To me, he was always arrogant and dismissive.

"I need to work hard so you can have a good life in the future," he'd told me. "I can't let you suffer with me."

So, was that why he'd only ever taken me to roadside stalls?

Had he been saving money to lavish on her?

I felt like a fool for ever believing his frugality was for my sake.

The final blow came when I read, "Over the past couple of days, I've realized I really like you. Every time I see you, every moment we're together, I feel my heart beats for you."

So, behind my back, he was shamelessly fawning over his supervisor.

Yes, I could guess that the woman was his mentor or his supervisor from the chat history.

For him, it was a woman who could help him climb the corporate ladder.

Was that why he'd catered to her every whim?

And what did that make me, the one sharing his bed every night?

And just a placeholder to keep him warm? The thought made me sick.

When Brayden stepped out of the shower, he clearly hadn't expected me to still be awake.

His eyes widened as they landed on his phone in my hand. In a flash, he rushed over, snatched it away, and shoved me hard.

Luckily, a pillow cushioned my fall, but my wrist still slammed into the corner of the headboard.

A sharp pain shot through my elbow, and I hissed through clenched teeth.

Before I could even speak, Brayden was already on the offensive.

"Lily! How could you snoop through my phone?" he barked.

I rubbed my aching arm, my voice calm but laced with bitterness. "Brayden, what does this mean? Are you two-timing me, keeping me as a backup? You're with me while cozying up to your boss?"

I stared at him, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I never knew you were such a disgusting person."

My words hit a nerve.

"I'm disgusting? What's disgusting about me?" he shot back, his voice rising. "We've been together for a year, and all we've done is hold hands. Even when we share a bed, you won't let me touch you."

He jabbed a finger at his chest, his eyes bulging with anger.

"And look at yourself, dressed like someone with no sense of style. Your wardrobe doesn't have a single decent piece of clothing."

He stormed over to the wardrobe and yanked it open.

The clothes inside swayed from the force, revealing faded jeans and plain T-shirts.

What he didn't know was that these weren't cheap brands.

A single T-shirt could cost as much as his monthly living expenses.

"Look at you," he sneered. "Always in a white T-shirt and jeans, or a plain shirt and trousers. Even on dates, you dress like a slob. You have no femininity at all. Sometimes, I don't even want to be seen with you."

He cast a disdainful glance at the clothes, oblivious to the fact that they were my way of staying under the radar.

"Pardon me?" I asked, my voice icy.

So, in his eyes, I was just an embarrassing bumpkin.

"Any grown woman on the street dresses better than you," he spat, no longer holding back. "And your family's financial situation? Even your furniture and appliances are second-hand. Yet you want to have dinner with my parents? Let me be honest, Lily Timberlake, I won't marry you -at least not someone poorer than me."

His words left me stunned.

"So, your ideal marriage partner is your supervisor, huh? Just because she has money, power, and status?"

Brayden glanced at me, his silence confirming everything.

I chuckled coldly, done with the conversation. I moved to my suitcase and started packing.

Brayden crossed his arms, sneering. "Lily, if you move out this time, don't bother coming back!"

I ignored him, shoved my belongings into the suitcase and left.

His shabby fifty-square-meter apartment-he acted like it was something special.

I slammed the door behind me, cutting off his endless insults.

"I'd like to see where a pauper like you can go without me!" he shouted after me. "Don't let me catch you begging for my mercy." I smirked. Oh, I bet it would be him begging soon.

I called my driver, who arrived promptly in a Bentley. "Take me to my villa in the suburbs," I instructed.

Initially, I'd considered staying at one of our hotels, but the villa seemed far more comfortable.

After all, a multi-million-dollar villa sitting empty was such a waste.

More importantly, it was something Brayden couldn't even dream of.

He had no idea of my true identity, which was worlds apart from his.

3

The next day, as I arrived at the office, Brayden sent me a document.

I almost laughed out loud when I opened it.

How could someone be so shameless?

He'd compiled all our dating expenses over the past three hundred days into a spreadsheet and demanded that I should reimburse him.

"Lily, if you want to break up, first return the money I spent on you during this time," he wrote.

I was suddenly curious to see what he'd listed.

On March 5th, there was a 200-dollar group-buy dinner.

April 10th included a 300-dollar amusement park trip, 100-dollar pasta, and a 230-dollar Italian dinner.

For April 20th, he noted a 52-dollar gift card, a 120-dollar cake, and a 9.9-dollar rose for my birthday.

There were also five movies totaling 135.8 dollars. The audacity was almost impressive.

He even included the cost of drinks, transportation, express delivery fees, and various miscellaneous expenses.

All added up, it came to 3548.56 dollars.

Looking at that final number, I smirked-it wasn't even enough to cover the balance of one of my handbags.

I was surprised that he remembered everything quite clearly, even noting the dates of each expense.

But did he ever consider what I bought for him or spent on him during our relationship?

On our hundred-day anniversary, I bought him a pair of shoes worth 7500 dollars, specially ordered from abroad through friends.

On his birthday, I gifted him a Cartier watch, a luxury watch worth nearly 50, 000 dollars.

Every time we dined out, I discreetly paid the larger bills while he only covered the smaller ones.

And now, he had the audacity to flaunt this bill in front of me.

Truly, there was no more invincible method than being shameless!

I felt that continuing any dialogue with Brayden would only degrade myself.

So, I blocked him totally, staying as far as I could from this jerk.

I hoped this would keep him from bothering me again.

But I hadn't anticipated that his being shameless would redefine my concept of humanity. I began to ponder why would I have chosen him from the very beginning.

After ignoring Brayden for a day, he somehow managed to post on our company's intranet, labeling me as a "gold digger" who dated to spend others' money.

It was also complete with a document.

The document had conveniently deleted the expenses, misleading people into believing that a twisted fact that it was only my fault.

Not only that, but he showed up at our company around for me.

In a foul mood from the morning's events, his presence only fueled my anger. My chest was burning with rage.

It seemed he was asking for trouble, so I decided not to hold back.

I was curious to see what tricks he had up his sleeve.

As soon as Brayden saw me, he started shouting. "Lily, you shameless bitch! Everyone, take a look at this woman! She is a liar! A fraud!"