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.
