The happy memories we once shared were shattered. Now, all Mark could think about was climbing the social ladder.

"Mark, your family is so petty. Are you really going to break up with me over 60,000 dollars?"

My words hit him where it hurt. Mark hated being looked down on because of money.

Sure enough, after hearing these words, he exploded. "Just 60,000 dollars? Do you have any idea how much work it took for my parents to save that money? How many years of frugal living? We wouldn't be struggling if it weren't for marring you!"

I hadn't even married into their family, and Mark was already blaming me for all their hardships.

In one sentence, he dumped their years of suffering onto me.

"They'd have to work regardless of whether or not you're marrying me."

I shot back.

Mark was too angry to respond, so Jane chimed in from the couch, "Look at her—this is the woman you chose. No respect! She even dares to speak to me and your father like this."

She dramatically flopped onto the floor, pounding her fists and wailing.

Mark rushed to her side, and continued to hurl insults at me, "Diana, my mom was right about you. You're just a gold digger! You have been with me only for money. You don't deserve to marry into my family—get out!"

Finally, the words I had been waiting for. I had no desire to stay in that cramped little house any longer.

But I wasn't going to leave without getting my parting shot in.

"Mark, next time you insult someone, make sure you know your worth. If I were with you for money, I'd be starving by now. What's there to dig in your family? That tiny apartment? I don't even want it!"

After unloading on them, I felt a wave of satisfaction.

I slammed the door so hard the whole building must have heard, and walked out proudly with the 60,000 dollars still in my pocket.

It wasn't like my family needed the money, but I wasn't about to turn down free cash.

After leaving Mark's house, I didn't see him for nearly half a month. When we met again, it was at a formal dinner.

I was attending the event with my father, and through the dim lighting, I spotted a familiar figure.

Pretending not to notice, I circled around until I was standing right in front of him. It was Mark.

What a small world.

He was accompanied by a woman I didn't recognize.

I was trying to recall where I had seen her when a commotion erupted nearby.

Drawn by curiosity, I walked over to watch the scene unfold.

"Are you blind? Do you know how much this dress costs? You spilled wine all over me! Can you even afford to pay for it?"

A woman was screaming at a waiter, her tone haughty and arrogant.

"I'm truly sorry, madam. It wasn't intentional. How about I take care of the dry cleaning for you?"

The waiter, visibly nervous, was doing his best to apologize.

The woman, however, was relentless.

At that moment, Mark suddenly appeared. "Gloria, that's enough. Everyone is watching. It's just a dress—you don't lack the money. Let's just take it as a small misfortune and move on."

Gloria? Could it be Gloria Smith?

This must be the same "heiress" Jane had been talking about—the one she set Mark up with.

I was curious to see how this fake heiress would handle the situation.

Gloria bit her lip and leaned into Mark's arms. "Alright, since you've spoken up, I'll let it go. Otherwise, I'd have to call my dad to step in."

This sentence greatly satisfied Mark's self-esteem as a man. "It's mainly because you're so understanding. No need to trouble Mr. Smith with such a minor issue."

How amusing—after impersonating me, she was even borrowing my father's name.

What, doesn't she have her own father?

Watching the two of them snuggling together made me feel sick.

I remembered this dress—it was a limited edition from one of my family's stores.

I took out my phone and contacted the shop staff, instructing them to call me if anyone tried to return this particular dress.

This was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Looking at Gloria, she did appear to have the air of an heiress, all polished and glamorous.

Unbeknownst to me, the crowd around us had already dispersed.

Mark approached me without my noticing.

"Well, if it isn't Diana. What are you doing here?"

"I know—you couldn't bear to break up with me, so you came to chase me down, right?"

His tone was flippant, and I found it more and more irritating.

"No worries, I understand. After all, without me, you probably can't find a better man. But I've moved on—I'm with the famous Smith family heiress now. You're not on my level anymore."

As he spoke, he wrapped his arm around Gloria's waist.

Gloria chimed in sweetly, "Mark, is this your ex-girlfriend? She doesn't seem that impressive. You really had poor taste before, but luckily you met me."

Right in front of me, the two of them started acting all lovey-dovey, kissing each other here and there.

Disgusting!

This was a banquet hall, not their bedroom.

I took a deep breath, then delivered my own verbal barrage.

"Mark, maybe there's no mirror in your house, but there's always water, right? Take a good look at yourself—why would I ever regret leaving you?"

"And don't flatter yourself—I was never interested in you before either."

"And you, Gloria—you know damn well whether you're really an heiress of the Smith family or not. Care to try pretending in front of me again?"

After that outburst, I felt a lot better.

The two of them stood there, faces green with anger.

Mark, seemingly surprised, still wasn't giving up. "Diana, do you even have the nerve to talk? How did you manage to get into this banquet? You know perfectly well that you don't belong here. I thought you were just a gold digger, but now I see you're completely shameless! You'd even sell your body to fit into a circle that isn't yours. Good thing I didn't stay with you, or I'd have become the biggest fool in town!"

I was baffled by what he was insinuating, until Mark elaborated.

"That guy you walked in with—how many times have you slept with him to get invited to this kind of high-end event?"

He finished his rant with a smug laugh, and Gloria followed suit, chuckling beside him.

The anger inside me boiled over. I slapped Mark hard across the face.

Then I grabbed a wine glass from the table and threw its contents at his ugly face.

"Only filthy people see filth in others."

The man Mark was talking about? He was none other than my cousin.

He happened to be nearby and kindly gave me a lift to the banquet.

Yet in Mark's twisted mind, I'd become some lowly mistress!

After splashing him with wine, I didn't bother looking back and walked away.

Let them make a fool of themselves in front of everyone.

A few days after the banquet, I received a call from one of my store's staff members.

"Miss Smith, the woman you mentioned has come to return the dress. What would you like us to do?"

I jumped up from the couch.

"Stall her. I'm on my way."

Finally, the moment I'd been waiting for came.

I rushed to the store, and sure enough, there was Gloria, yelling at the staff.

"Do you even know how to run a business? I bought this dress here, and I have the receipt and tags. Now that I've decided it doesn't suit me, why won't you let me return it? Do I have to call the police?"

Casually, I strolled up to her.

"You wore it already. Of course, you can't return it."

Gloria was fuming.

"Just because you say I wore it doesn't mean I did! Where's your proof?"

She paused for a moment, seemingly recognizing me.

"Oh, it's you—Mark's ex. What's wrong, couldn't keep your man, so now you're here to make trouble for me, aren't you? Is that all you're good for?"

My tone was firm.

"I'm not talking to you as Mark's ex. I'm speaking to you as the owner of this store, and I'm telling you that the dress cannot be returned."

"Do you know who am I? I'll post this online and ruin your reputation. Let's see if anyone dares shop here again!"

I chuckled softly.

"I don't care who you are. Today, this dress isn't getting returned."

Gloria was taken aback, clearly not expecting me to be so unyielding.

She pulled out her phone and began snapping pictures of me.

"Hey everyone, look at this store. I bought a dress with the tags still on, and they're refusing to take it back. Avoid this place!"

She posted the video to her social media account.

By chance, I caught a glimpse of her username.

"Get ready to face public outrage!" she spat, glaring at me.

While she wasn't paying attention, I slipped into a corner and called the police.

Since she wanted to involve the police, I figured I'd help her out.

While waiting for the police to arrive, I quietly searched Gloria's social media account.

She had quite a few followers—tens of thousands, in fact—and her page was filled with videos of her flaunting her wealth.

Pinned at the top was a post from the banquet a few days ago, showing her wearing the exact same dress she bought from our shop and was now trying to return.

She was digging her own grave, wasn't she?

I quickly followed her account, saved the video, and waited for the police to show up. It would make for perfect evidence.