My terminally ill boyfriend turned out to be the illegitimate son of a wealthy family in the city.
And me? I was just a barbecue girl making a living at the night market.
Back then, Jeremy Foster was frail and sickly and I gave him the best of everything I could afford while caring for him. But when the Fosters’ twelve Rolls-Royces lined up in front of my tiny apartment to take him home to his real family, he left me behind and took my flatmate instead.
One of the reporters asked him during the interview, “Who is this young lady before you?”
Jeremy’s reply was cold and simple. “Just the housekeeper who took care of me for a while.”
Later, he became the highly respected Mr. Foster in this city, while I turned around and married his sworn rival.
Unfortunately, on my wedding night, Jeremy sent men to abduct me.
“Why did you marry that ugly monster?” he demanded.
“Because he never treated me like a housekeeper!”
Jeremy sneered, “Is that all you’ve got?”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s all!”
——
The day the Fosters came to pick up Jeremy, twelve Rolls-Royces lined up in the alley I had to pass through to get home.
Reporters with their cameras and microphones swarmed the entire tenement building, blocking every exit.
After closing my stall, I couldn’t push my barbecue cart inside, so I had to walk.
My neighbour, Wendy Ziegler, spotted me and enthusiastically hooked her arm through mine. “Bridget, you’ve hit the jackpot! Your Jeremy is actually the Foster family’s heir! Mr. William Foster just sent people to pick him up. You can go back with him and enjoy a life of luxury, too!”
Before I could react, Jeremy descended the stairs surrounded by a crowd.
I’d never seen him like this before.
Dressed in a well-tailored dark suit, he stood tall and straight, his demeanor dignified. He looked like the naturally gifted, overbearing CEO from an idol drama.
Next to him was my flatmate, Stella Lane.
When Jeremy’s eyes met mine, his gaze was different from before—filled with the contempt of someone in a position of power.
A sharp-eyed reporter quickly asked him, “Mr. Foster, what is your relationship with the lady before you?”
Jeremy’s eyes shifted away from me as he replied indifferently, “Just the housekeeper who’s been taking care of me lately.”
His answer made the neighbours gasp in shock.
They had often seen me buying things for Jeremy and accompanying him during his exercises. Everyone knew he was my boyfriend.
In an instant, all eyes—filled with pity or mockery—landed on me.
I stood frozen, looking down at my ten-dollar T-shirt, twenty-dollar canvas shoes and the exhaustion that clung to my entire being.
I really did look like a housekeeper.
Still, I had taken care of Jeremy for five years. Even if he had introduced me as his neighbour, I wouldn’t have felt so utterly humiliated.
When I finally reached the lead car, Jeremy had already opened the door for Stella to get in. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned to me. “You’ve taken care of me for so long. If you have any wishes, tell me and I can fulfil them!”
Wendy immediately urged me, “Quick, quick! This is your chance, ask him to take you with him!”
However, I didn’t budge. I just numbly shook the bag of medicine I held in my hand. “Since you don’t actually have a terminal illness, why don’t you settle the bill for the medicine I bought you these past few years? Oh, and the living expenses too! That makes a total of … fifty-nine thousand eight hundred!”
I pulled out my phone, tapped away furiously and announced the number.
Everyone around me burst into snickers, mocking me for being so short-sighted.
To someone of Jeremy’s status, what was 598,000? If I had asked, he might have given me 59.8 million without batting an eye.
Jeremy frowned, his eyes fixed on me with a complicated expression. Nevertheless, he quickly instructed his assistant to give me a check.
I glanced at the number. It was 600,000 dollars.
He even gave me an extra two thousand!
Stella hooked her arm through his and looked at me, saying, “Bridget, Jeremy is quite generous to you. He gave you exactly what you asked for. But from now on, you both belong to different worlds. I hope you won’t make any negative remarks about Jeremy in front of anyone!”
Jeremy also looked at me, pursing his lips. “I don’t want anyone to know that you and I were ever involved!”
I understood. He despised me and feared I’d tell the media he was my boyfriend.
Don’t worry, I won’t. After all, having such a heartless boyfriend wasn’t something worth bragging about.
When Jeremy left and the onlookers dispersed, only my best friend, Wendy, stayed behind—still fuming.
“Bridget, are you an idiot? What can you do with 600,000 dollars? It can’t even buy a single apartment!”
I looked at her with a pale face. “But he only owes me this much.”
Liking him was my own choice. Taking care of him was, too. I’d just accept that I loved the wrong person.
Wendy sighed and poked my head with her finger, calling me an idiot all the way back.
When I got home, everything that belonged to Jeremy was gone. So was Stella’s stuff.
It was like a storm had swept through, leaving a mess scattered across the floor for no one to clean up.
After setting up my stall all night, I’d even stopped by the hospital early this morning to pick up Jeremy’s medicine. Now I lay collapsed on the sofa, too exhausted to move.
“Meow.”
Melon crouched before me, tilting her head as she meowed. She was a stray cat I’d picked up from the street.
Forcing myself up, I fed her and tidied the room a little while I was at it.
In the evening, I set up my stall as usual.
Without Jeremy, my expenses were actually quite low. Six hundred thousand, at my current spending rate, was enough for me for some months.
But I wanted to buy a house, to have a home of my own.
Outside the university town, my barbecue stall was the most popular spot on the snack street and young college students loved my business.
That day, a man in a sharp suit suddenly appeared at my stall.
“Ma’am, give me five lamb skewers, ten skewers with fat,” he ordered.
I’m used to serving young, energetic college students, but this was my first time serving someone so incredibly wealthy and successful.
I couldn’t help but stare at him a few more times.
He was tall—probably around 188 or 189 cm— with an upright posture and a calm, distinguished elegance. Not to mention, he was strikingly handsome: high nose bridge, deep-set eyes and facial features so sculpted they almost gave off a Eurasian mixed-race vibe.
Parked near the alley entrance was a silver-grey Cayenne, lights still on, with a driver inside—probably waiting for him.
Having read countless romance novels, my mind instantly conjured up a cliché plot: an overbearing CEO buying grilled skewers for his pampered college wife.
So I grinned extra brightly. “Sure thing! For here or to go?”
I was certain it’d be to-go. I even grabbed a takeout container right away.
But the CEO-type said, “Here.”
Then, completely ignoring my surprised expression, he casually found a seat and sat down.
He ordered about $ 300 worth of food in total. At that moment, I grilled while serving him skewers one after another.
By the time I was done, I was sweating profusely and he’d devoured it all in a flash.
“The grilling is good. How’s your cooking?”
I was taken aback and pointed at myself. “Are you asking me? Well, I’m pretty decent. I even trained as a chef before starting this stall!”
Hearing that, the CEO immediately pulled a business card from his suit pocket and handed it to me.
“Are you interested in becoming my personal chef?”
I picked up the business card, then read the letters. James Howard, CEO of HD Group.
I looked at him with a strange expression. “Sir, you’re not thinking of … keeping me as a mistress, are you?”
“For your information, the monthly salary is one hundred thousand,” he said.
“Of course, I know Mr. Howard is absolutely not that kind of man! One hundred thousand, you say? I can start tomorrow!”
It wasn’t that I wanted to give in; it was that he offered far too much!
To buy a house in a place like this city, where every inch of land is as precious as gold, with my meagre street stall income, I’d probably have to work until I die.
The next day, I clutched the business card and went to the Howard residence for the ‘interview.’
James opened the door himself. The young man was wearing a grey tracksuit, probably having just returned from a run.
Seeing me standing before the carved iron gate, he unlocked it himself and led me inside.
Tall and long-legged, he strode ahead, forcing me to jog to keep pace.
The Howard residence was huge. It took us seven or eight minutes to walk from the main gate to the living room.
As I walked, I kept checking my surroundings, staying on guard in case he tried to take advantage of me.
Then, with a bang, I slammed right into his broad back. The pain made my eyes see stars.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Howard! I … I didn’t mean to!” I apologized, clutching my sore nose.
James turned around, clearly exasperated and glared at me. “Did you think I was going to do something to you?”
I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “Didn’t you?”
James laughed in exasperation, raising a hand as if to strike me, but he restrained himself and only said, “Stop calling me Mr. Howard. Take a good look. Do you really not know who I am?”
I leaned in for a closer inspection, then shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
“Tsk.”
“Seriously, I don’t. How could a barbecue seller like me know a big shot like you? Maybe you’ve got the wrong person!”
I knew it! How could a good job paying one hundred thousand a month just fall into my lap?
It turned out the domineering CEO was suffering from blurry vision and mistook me for someone else.
James gritted his teeth, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “Bridget, you dare to say you don’t know me again!”
When the CEO exploded, a chilling aura swept out from him.
I instinctively shrank my neck back, my eyes fixed intently on the man’s deeply handsome look.
Someone’s face that had once been severely burned and covered in scars flashed through my mind. If those scars were removed from that face …
I froze in shock, realizing who he was almost instantly—then spun around and ran. But before I could get far, a hand seized my wrist and forcefully yanked me back.
My back directly hit the wall and James’s face loomed dangerously close to mine. He pinned my wrists above my head, looking down at me with an intimidating glare.
“Why don’t you keep running, Bridget?”
I couldn’t run! The strength gap between us was too vast and I was no match for him.
Actually, Jeremy Foster wasn’t the only boyfriend I ever had.
I was seventeen that summer when a new transfer student joined our class—John Shelton, the boy whose face was marked by extensive scars from a fire.
The students were terrified of him and avoided him everywhere. No one even dared to sit with him during lunch in the cafeteria. Behind his back, everyone called him the ‘Ugly Monster.’
One day, his deskmate asked to switch seats, saying that just seeing his face gave her nightmares.
The teacher could only sigh and ask if anyone else was willing to sit beside him.
His slender fingers were nervously scratching the edge of the desk, betraying his inner tension.
Just as silence fell over the room and no one volunteered, I timidly raised my hand.
At that moment, the class erupted in laughter.
“Sir, just let Bridget sit with him!”
“A little trash-picker paired with an ugly monster—they’re perfect for each other!”
Back then, my adoptive grandmother was still alive and she raised me by collecting trash.
To help ease my grandmother’s burden, I would often rummage through trash bins after school to collect bottles for her. Because of that, my classmates looked down on me, whispering that I smelled bad. So, from the very first day of high school, I’d always sat alone at my desk.
The teacher who knew about my situation harshly scolded anyone who mocked me.
Bottlenecks probably could be sealed, but human hearts remained untamed.
Behind my back, they nicknamed me “Little Ragpicker.”
Ignoring their mockery, I gripped my shirt hem nervously and asked John. “John, would you be willing to be my deskmate?”
I was terrified he’d think I smelled too. But to my surprise, John nodded firmly. “As long as you’re not afraid of me, I’d be happy to!”
After that, we started spending more time together.
I soon discovered how brilliant he was; he always ranked first in our grade.
He’d help me with my studies and I’d thank him with the chicken wraps my grandmother made.
When the thugs outside of school bullied him, I grabbed a baseball bat and fought them. And when I couldn’t afford lunch, he split his allowance with me.
In our senior year, he suddenly confessed his feelings.
He asked me to attend the same university as him, promising that we would study at one of the city’s best universities.
I accepted his confession and listed one of them as my first choice. But on the night before the submission deadline, while working part-time at a five-star hotel, I ran into John’s family for dinner.
There was a stunningly beautiful girl sitting beside him.
While their parents were away in the restroom, I overheard them discussing how this girl would accompany John abroad for treatment during the summer and that their engagement would be announced upon their return.
I admit I had low self-esteem.
When I got back, I changed my university application. I sent John a message saying I’d fallen in love with someone else and wanted to break up with him. Then, I immediately blocked all his contact information.
At that time, no one knew which university I went to. I also never heard anything from John again.
“If Jeremy hadn’t returned home that day and if the paparazzi hadn’t spotted you, I might still have no idea you’d already come back to this city.” James’ voice was filled with anger.
“The ‘someone else’ you mentioned is that Jeremy Foster?”
I hadn’t expected the random excuse I’d made up to break up with him would be something he’d remembered until now.
I struggled to break free from his grip. “What does it matter now? If I remember correctly, I already broke up with you!”
James was furious. “Am I a dog you raised? You think you can break up with me just because you say so?”
As his voice fell silent, the villa door opened.
A girl in a high-fashion designer dress walked out. She was very beautiful, like a princess in a castle.
I had seen her before. She was the person who was having dinner with James in the private room that day. I recalled their parents had arranged their engagement back then.
So, James already had a fiancée and still wanted to harass me? Did they all think I was easy to bully?
“Bridget Lockhe? Babe, you finally found her?”
The girl’s voice brimmed with excitement as soon as she spoke.
Babe? What exactly was the relationship between this girl and James?
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