Substitute? I'm a Superstar

The private room at the Redland Pub was alive with laughter and chatter as Giselle Gallardo pushed open the door. She walked in with a smile, holding a neatly wrapped gift box, and headed straight for Herbert Horne. "Herbert, happy birthday," she said warmly, extending the gift to him. Her words had an immediate effect on the room. Conversations stopped mid-sentence, and a strange silence filled the air. A few people sitting nearby exchanged awkward glances. "Who invited Gigi?" someone whispered. "She's Herbert's girlfriend. Isn't it normal for her to celebrate his birthday?" another replied. "Normal? Are you blind? Look at who's sitting next to him!" All eyes turned to Herbert. It was then Giselle noticed the woman seated beside him. Herbert, completely unbothered, casually draped an arm around the woman's waist while caressing her fingers. His demeanor was calm, almost rehearsed, as he introduced her. "This is Connie," he said smoothly. "You're just her substitute. Now that she's back, your role is officially over." ***** Substitute? Giselle's hand froze midair, the gift box suddenly feeling like a dead weight. A cold shock coursed through her body as her mind raced. She turned her gaze to the girl in Herbert's arms. The red-haired woman had the same emerald-green eyes as Giselle. She wore a simple white sweatshirt and jeans, her high ponytail resting neatly on her back. In an instant, Giselle understood everything. No wonder Herbert had insisted, almost obsessively, that she wear white sweatshirts and jeans for the past five years. No wonder he had personally dyed her blonde hair fiery red, despite her initial protests. It had never been about her. It was about turning her into someone else. "Oh, I was just a stand-in. Got it," Giselle said with a bitter smile. Herbert didn't deny it. "Now that Connie's back, she's my girlfriend again. But don't be upset—it's all about mutual consent in relationships, right? Connie's my true love, but if you don't mind, we can keep things open. What do you think? After all, three is so much more fun." The room erupted into hushed murmurs. Everyone knew Giselle was head over heels for Herbert. She had sacrificed everything for him—her career, her future, even her identity. She had molded her life around his whims, becoming little more than a programmed version of herself. They all believed that she wouldn't dare leave him. But Giselle suddenly sneered. "No need," she said, her voice sharp and unwavering. "Let's just break up." Giselle looked back on her five years with Herbert, and all she felt was disgust. Suppressing the nausea threatening to overwhelm her, she decided to end her nightmares right now. Connie Brooks, clearly relishing her victory, leaned forward with a smirk. "Thanks for taking care of Herbert for me. And thank you for the lovely birthday gift." She reached out to take the box from Giselle's hand. But Giselle tightened her grip, her wrist flicking sharply as she tossed the box into the trash. Leaning in close, she said with a frosty smile, "As his babysitter, taking care of him was my job. But you, dear, are just a third-rate leech. Keep your thanks to yourself." She pulled a small box from her pocket and shoved it into Connie's hands. "You both disgust me. If you're so keen on scraps, here's something Herbert will need: condoms for his mini size. Enjoy." Ignoring Herbert's furious gaze, Giselle turned and strode out of the room. Behind her, laughter erupted as someone shouted, "Herbert, mini size? Really? I couldn't tell!" "Wait, does this mean Giselle's single now? Think I've got a shot with her—she looked stunning just now!" "Nah, she'll come crawling back. She's crazy about him. Three days, tops." "True! I'm sure she loves him too much to mind his pitiful size. She probably already went home to brew him some coffee and draw him a bath." Herbert's veins bulged as he clenched his fists, staring at the gift in the trash can. Storming toward the door with Connie in tow, he snarled, "That woman was never good in bed. I'm done with her. If anyone wants her, be my guest!" Seeing that he was truly annoyed, nobody dared to tease him further. Lester Silverman, heir to Silverman Bank and a friend of Herbert, approached the trash can after he left. Carefully, he retrieved the discarded gift box and opened it. Inside was a hand-knitted sweater, soft and expertly made. Lester held it like a treasure, his expression unreadable. ***** At Inner Garden Villa, Giselle moved methodically through the house, packing her belongings. This villa was maintained by a butler, but Giselle took care of everything in Herbert's daily life. They had once hired a maid, but Herbert wasn't satisfied with her. He was always picky about her ironed shirts or her coffee. When they'd first started dating, Herbert had wooed her with sweet promises. Giselle fell into his trap and willingly served him for five years, all in the name of love. However, Connie's return shattered everything. All efforts she had put on Herbert were in vain. Now, it was clear: he wasn't worth it. He had never been. So, she had to stop wasting her time and feelings. Giselle zipped her final suitcase and surveyed the room. Then, she chuckled bitterly. She had five bank cards, each loaded with 10 million dollars. They were her past birthday gifts from Herbert. There were also four property deeds—his Valentine's Day presents. She packed them all. These would be her severance pay for five years of unpaid labor. With a shrug, she muttered, "Earning 10 million a year? Not bad." Dialing her best friend's number, she said, "Elaine, come pick me up. I'm staying at your place tonight." Fifteen minutes later, Elaine Turner pulled up in front of the villa. She stepped out of her car, her jaw dropping at the sight of Giselle's packed luggage. "What happened? Did you two fight?" "We broke up," Giselle said simply. Elaine's eyes lit up with excitement. "For real this time? You're not going to make up with him in a few hours, right?" "For real," Giselle briefly recounted what had happened. Elaine felt utterly relieved that her bestie had finally come to her senses and dumped Herbert. Dragging her suitcases behind her, Giselle took one last look at the villa. She deleted her fingerprint from the lock system and then climbed into Elaine's car without hesitation. ***** The pair treated themselves to a luxurious spa night before heading to the bank the next morning. Giselle consolidated three of her accounts, invested two in Elaine's media company, and kept the last for her personal expenses. Elaine watched in amazement. "Okay, as breakup fees go, that's solid. But for the emotional damage that jerk caused, I'd say you deserve more." She then glanced at Giselle's outfit and smirked. "Girl, time to ditch the stand-in wardrobe." Giselle looked down at herself and nodded eagerly. She loved making herself gorgeous and preferred all kinds of styles with bright colors. Her perfect figure and stunning face made everything look good on her. For years, she had forgotten her preferences, letting Herbert dictate her style. Now, it was time to reclaim herself. ***** The two women spent the entire morning buying designer pieces in a luxurious shopping mall, and they even went to a hair salon. By the time they left the mall in the evening, Giselle had transformed completely. Her fiery red hair and ponytail were gone, replaced with soft golden waves cascading down her shoulders. A champagne silk backless dress hugged her frame, exuding elegance and confidence. Giselle caught her reflection in a*****e window and saw a glimpse of her old self—the radiant, fearless dancer she had once been. "Elaine," she said, determined to get her career back, "come with me to meet someone." Elaine narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Who?" "My teacher, Clarice Bones." Elaine's face lit up. "Finally! You're going back to the dance world!" ***** Meanwhile, Herbert's car screeched into the villa's driveway. He stumbled out, reeking of alcohol and barely able to stand. Leaning against the door for support, he slurred, "Giselle? Open the door!"