She Wore My Dress—While Screwing Him

“Ah… Andrea, oh God… yes… right there.”

“Andrea, baby… you feel so good… mmm…just like that, Yes!!!!!”

The voice was unmistakable. And when Diana pushed the door open and saw her—Sara, her own little sister—bouncing on top of her boyfriend, she froze. Her body went cold before the heat of rage took over.

“You bitch!” she screamed, grabbing Sara by the hair and yanking her off him. The nasty squelching sound as their bodies separated made her want to puke.

“What the hell, Diana?! Let go of me!” Sara screeched, clawing at Diana’s hand with her acrylic nails.

Diana didn’t care. She slapped her. Twice. “You dirty little snake!”

Sara lunged at her like a wild animal. She grabbed Diana’s hair, yanking hard like she wanted to rip her scalp clean off. Diana didn’t back down. She reached for her sister’s neck and bit her hand—hard enough to taste blood.

“Stop it! Diana, stop!” Andrea shouted, trying to pull them apart while zipping up his pants.

Diana glared at him. “Don’t touch me!”

He stepped between them, shielding Sara like she was the one who’d just been betrayed. Like she was the victim here.

“You… you two…” Diana’s voice cracked.

“Listen to me, Diana. It’s not what it looks like,” Andrea began.

“Not what it looks like? Are you stupid or do you think I am?” she snapped.

“You were never there for me, Diana! Always acting innocent, pretending like you're better than everyone,” Andrea barked. “You walk around like some pure little saint—‘don’t touch my virgin pussy’ girl—but I know the truth.”

“What are you even saying?” Her voice was shaking. “I’ve never even slept with anyone. Not you. Not anyone. I was saving myself for someone who actually loved me!”

Andrea laughed. Actually laughed.

“Yeah right. You expect me to believe that? You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing behind my back at work? Everyone sees it. You always get special treatment from the manager. Bonuses, shorter shifts, praise for doing nothing. Tell me, Diana—what exactly are you doing to make him so generous? Sucking him off in his office?”

The slap Diana gave him echoed through the room. His face twisted sideways.

He didn’t even blink. Just smiled, a smear of blood on his lip.

“Whore,” he spat.

Tears rushed down Diana’s cheeks. “Is that what I am to you? A whore?”

“Yes!” he yelled, the words laced with venom. “You think you're pure? You’re just better at hiding your dirt! I bet you’ve fucked the manager!”

“You’re disgusting,” Diana whispered.

Sara stepped forward, her chest nearly falling out of the dress she wore—Diana’s favorite dress.

Diana blinked in disbelief. “Wait… why are you wearing my dress? That’s mine. I wore that to my birthday dinner last month.”

Sara said nothing.

Instead, Andrea stepped in with a smirk. “I told her she could wear it. She looked better in it anyway.”

Diana turned to him, jaw clenched. “That’s not the point, Andrea. That dress—”

“That dress is just a piece of fabric, Diana,” he cut her off, his voice cold.

Sara crossed her arms and let out a bitter laugh. “You know what Andrea told me? He said he’s tired of pretending with you. He needs a real woman. Not one who’s always too busy with her laptop and planner to learn what her man really wants.”

Diana opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Sara slapped her. Hard. Her head turned with the force, her cheek stinging.

She staggered back in shock.

“You always get everything,” Sara hissed, eyes burning with rage. “You always get the nice things. The attention. The help at work. The praise. You think life is fair, Diana? You walk around like the world owes you something.”

Diana stared at her, too stunned to respond.

“You’re pathetic,” Sara spat. “Now get out.”

Diana straightened up, ignoring the pain in her face. “This is my apartment too. I paid Andrea’s rent more than once when he was broke and jobless.”

Andrea scoffed. “Oh please. Stop acting like you’re some savior.”

“I took care of you both,” she said, her voice low but steady. “And you both used me.”

Before she could finish, Andrea grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.

“Don’t touch me!” she shouted, struggling against him.

He shoved her into the hallway and slammed the door shut behind them. The loud bang echoed in the narrow corridor. Cold air hit her bare legs and arms—she was still in her office gown, hadn’t even taken her shoes off.

Andrea leaned in close, face twisted with disdain. “You’re nothing special, Diana. All you do is work and act innocent. Guess what? That innocent act doesn’t keep a man satisfied. You want to play boss lady at work? Go ahead. But don’t act shocked when someone else knows how to keep her man happy.”

He gave her one last mocking laugh before disappearing behind the door.

And that was when Diana broke.

Her hands were shaking.

Her lips trembled.

Her heart felt like it was being torn from her chest.

Why? Why them?

Sara was her baby sister. She had given her everything. Protected her. Shared her home, her clothes, her life. And now Sara was wearing her dress and sleeping with her boyfriend?

Andrea… the man Diana had supported when he had nothing. Paid his rent. Believed in him. Loved him.

And he called her a whore?

Her virginity was still hers. She had been holding on to it for something real—for someone real. And now he was accusing her of sleeping with her manager?

She hated them.

Hated them so much she wanted to tear their hearts out.

She imagined slicing them open, letting their rotten guts spill out, their blood washing away her pain.

But she couldn’t do that.

She just stood there, trembling—not just from the cold, but from the betrayal. The humiliation. The way they tossed her out like trash.

Still, she didn’t cry.

Not yet.

She clutched her bag tight to her chest and took a deep breath.

“Why cry over a man who doesn’t even deserve me?” she whispered to herself.

She wasn’t going to break here.

Not like this.

Diana walked barefoot down the stairs, one shaky step at a time, holding her head high even though everything inside her hurt.

When she reached the street, she flagged down a cab.

The driver rolled down the window. “Where to?”

She cleared her throat, trying to force the words out. “Take me to Strippers... the nightclub downtown.”

The driver raised a brow but nodded. “Got it.”

She slid into the backseat, sinking into the cold leather. City lights blurred past the window as they drove through the night.

She had no plan. No idea what she would do when she got there.

All she knew was that she was done being the girl who stayed quiet.

Done being the sweet sister.

---

✧✧✧

The alcohol burned like fire, sliding down her throat and igniting something dark inside her. Something defiant. Something dangerous.

For a moment, the pain dulled.

But it didn’t disappear.

Andrea’s voice. Sara’s smug expression. Their laughter. Their betrayal. It all played in her mind like a broken record on repeat.

Diana clenched the glass in her hand.

Fine.

They wanted a bad girl?

She’d show them one.

She looked around as her eyes adjusted to the neon lights and pounding bass of Strippers—the loudest, wildest, filthiest club in the city. Half the women weren’t even wearing full outfits. Thongs, fishnets, tiny leather tops, glittery bras. Men lined the stage, throwing bills, drinking, cheering as bodies twisted and bounced.

This wasn’t her world.

But maybe that was the point.

She walked to the bar, ignoring the eyes on her. Her dress clung to her curves in all the right places, but she’d never worn it to be sexy.

Tonight, it was her armor.

“Whiskey. Neat,” she told the bartender.

As she sipped, something caught her attention.

He wasn’t part of the chaos. He was the calm at the center of the storm.

Leaning against the VIP rail, watching the dancers like he owned them. Like nothing here impressed him. Like he’d seen it all—and didn’t care.

Dark hair, pushed back in a mess that somehow looked perfect. Sharp jawline. Thick brows. Piercing eyes that cut through the noise. Lips like stone—tight, cold, unreadable.

He didn’t look like the kind of man who smiled.

He looked like the kind who destroyed.

His body spoke just as loudly as his presence. Broad shoulders beneath a fitted black shirt. Arms crossed, posture relaxed but commanding. Like a king, surveying a kingdom of glitter and smoke.

Diana couldn’t stop staring.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

Maybe it was the pain.

Or maybe it was that tonight, she didn’t want to be Diana anymore.

She didn’t want to be the girl who cried over cheaters.

She wanted to be the woman they never saw coming.

She downed the rest of her drink, stood tall, and walked straight toward him.