The Girl He Dumped Turned Out to Be the Billionaire's Granddaughter

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.