I was a fake heiress. Before the real daughter of the Bennett family was brought home, I kept Adrian Walker, Mrs. Johnson’s son, as my secret lover.

As long as he was willing to be my bed partner, I would find a suitable heart donor for his younger sister, who suffered from a heart condition, and cover all the medical expenses. That way, Mrs. Johnson wouldn’t need to work two exhausting jobs every day.

He agreed and stayed by my side like a loyal dog for three years.

Until the real heiress, Isabella Bennett, returned and I was thrown out of the Bennett estate.

I became the daughter of a gambling addict and completely cut ties with Adrian.

Later, my father pawned me to a nightclub as a hostess to pay off his gambling debts.

By coincidence, I ran into Adrian in a VIP lounge. He was now Isabella’s boyfriend. And he even ordered me to pour him a drink.

We girls lined up for them to choose from. When I lifted my gaze and saw him, I froze.

Five years after leaving the Bennett estate, I never thought I’d meet Adrian again—least of all like this.

“You can pick whoever you want, but don’t corrupt my Adrian.”

The voice belonged to Isabella.

I glanced sideways at her. She wore a white dress, her high ponytail making her look youthful and full of energy.

I lowered my head. My black bodycon dress clung to every curve, its open back held by only a thin strap, the hem barely covering my thighs. It was exactly the kind of outfit I used to despise.

I’d heard he was now a rising leader in the cutting-edge drone industry. He had finally achieved his dream.

Sitting next to Isabella, he looked like a perfect match for her. One was a celebrated tech entrepreneur, the other the true heiress of the Bennett Group.

“I’ll take number 18.”

Someone called out my number. My heart skipped a beat when I recognized the familiar voice. It was Daniel Carter, my childhood friend.

“Then I’ll take number 12.”

“I’ll take number 7.”

I sat down beside Daniel and poured him a drink.

Then someone nearby casually brought up Isabella’s background and, inevitably, Adrian’s past.

“Mr. Walker, I heard you once had a fling with the fake Bennett heiress. And now you’re with the real one—enjoying the best of both worlds, huh?”

My back stiffened. I glanced at Adrian, but he neither spoke nor showed any expression.

Awkwardness hung in the air until a woman next to Isabella chimed in.

“Our Isabella is the true daughter of the Bennetts. Not only does she run a division of the Bennett Group, but she’s also a renowned jewelry designer. As for Sophia Bennett, she’s nothing compared to Isabella.”

The moment I heard that arrogant voice, I knew it was my old nemesis. I never imagined she would one day be flattering Isabella like this.

Daniel, sitting next to me, looked displeased for just a moment. But I knew he wouldn’t speak up for me—he was the illegitimate son of the Carter family, with no say since childhood.

Just then, girl number 7 began singing, and the atmosphere in the lounge grew lively again.

Taking the chance, I excused myself to fetch more drinks, hoping to slip away quickly.

“Number 18.”

Adrian suddenly called out to me.

“Could you pour me a drink?”

My hands trembled as I filled his glass and handed it over.

“Thank you.”

He glanced at me once, showing no recognition, his eyes moving on indifferently.

Of course he wouldn’t recognize me. I never wore makeup before, and now with my heavy layers, even I barely recognized myself.

I forced a bitter smile, mocking myself, and turned to leave.

As I opened the door and stepped out, Adrian called again.

“Wait—Number 18. Haven’t we met before?”

I froze, my shoulders tensing.

“Mr. Walker, I don’t understand what you mean. You’re a big boss, and I’m just a new hostess. How could we have met?”

I put on a strong local accent and raised my voice. The lounge fell silent for a moment, but before I could say more, loud voices echoed from the hallway.

“I want her! Who the hell are you to cut in?”

“She’s mine. I picked her first!”

Two guests were fighting over a hostess. In the chaos, I slipped away.

Later, I pretended I had a stomachache and begged Emily Smith to take my place in Adrian’s lounge.

“Fine, but you owe me two days’ worth of fried rice. Yours is too delicious to resist.”

I agreed, watching her enter Adrian’s lounge and not come out again. Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Staring at my reflection in the glass door, I wondered—had he recognized me?

I remembered back at the Bennett estate, when I was still treated as the real daughter. Adrian often came with Mrs. Johnson to work. With him helping, Mrs. Johnson had more time to run her food stand selling fried rice.

Her fried rice was so good that I begged her to teach me. I learned perfectly. For that, I was truly grateful to Adrian’s mother.

Even now, I spent my free time running a small food stand myself, and business was decent.

Back then, Adrian had the face of a sweet puppy, which my adolescent heart adored.

I ordered him around constantly—fetching drinks, cleaning up—and when he apologized timidly, I couldn’t help but laugh.

Once, I made him hand-wash my clothes, forgetting to take out my underwear. He blushed furiously the whole time, while I scolded him with a red face of my own.

Then, for a long while, he stopped coming with Mrs. Johnson.

I asked Mrs. Bennett about it and learned that Adrian had a younger sister, Olivia, who was born with a congenital heart disease. They still hadn’t found a donor, and the treatments were overwhelmingly expensive.

Mr. Walker worked day and night to save for the surgery, sleeping only three hours a day. Before he could raise enough, he collapsed and died at work.

The family’s situation went from hard to unbearable.

I begged Mr. Bennett to help Olivia get a donor and used all my savings to cover her treatment.

Mrs. Johnson no longer had to juggle two jobs, and she was so grateful she practically overfed me.

Adrian still came by after school to help.

But no one else knew that he and I had struck a deal.

I would cover Olivia’s medical expenses. In return, Adrian had to be my secret lover.

More precisely—my bed partner.

I gave him my first time, and he gave me his.

We were both so inexperienced that during our first time, he couldn’t even find the right place.

I ordered him around in everything, and he never once said no.

Among our circle, people whispered that he was my pet dog—a very obedient one.

I laughed every time I heard it.

Once, lying in his arms, I asked if he’d be willing to be my little puppy forever.

He stayed silent. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, he leaned down and kissed me.

I thought that meant yes, so I clung to him and pulled him into another long, breathless night.

By our third year together, Isabella came to the Bennett estate.

She revealed she’d been switched at birth by her adoptive parents. A DNA test confirmed she was the true Bennett heiress. She moved into my bedroom, while I was cast out of the family.

Overnight, I went from the pampered heiress of the Bennetts to the daughter of an abusive gambler.

Adrian didn’t know about my fall from grace.

At that time, his upgraded drone model had just succeeded. I gave him a break and booked flights for his family to Miami.

After being thrown out of the estate, I rushed to Miami to find him—only to overhear him talking with a friend.

“Adrian, you’ve been with Sophia Bennett for so long. When are you going to make it official?”

He fell silent.

“Do you even like her?”

“Not really.”

My blood froze, though I forced down the ache in my chest.

That night, I went to him again, desperate. We spent hours together, but afterward, as I traced the hard lines of his abs, I made my decision.

“Adrian, we’re done.”

He stayed silent again.

But he must have been relieved. No longer would he be treated like a dog at my beck and call.

I left, tossing my phone into the trash, and returned to my biological parents’ home.

I knew Adrian was destined for greatness—he was smart enough.

What I hadn’t expected was that he’d end up with the real heiress.

At 3 a.m., I curled up in the nightclub’s breakroom, catching a nap before my shift ended. By 5 a.m., I had to set up my food stand for the office crowd’s breakfast rush.

Business was good as usual, and just as I was about to close up, another customer ordered fried rice.

“No scallions. More onions. Two eggs. And absolutely no shrimp—our boss is allergic to seafood.”

My hand froze mid-motion. That was exactly Adrian’s habit. He too was allergic to seafood.

I laughed bitterly. What was I even thinking?

I cooked quickly, plated the food, and handed it over.

As I packed up my cart and got on my motorbike, a voice stopped me.

“Did you make this fried rice?”

It was Adrian’s voice.

I pulled my mask higher and croaked a reply.

“Tastes good. Who taught you to cook like this?”

“My mom.”

He sneered. “Oh? Since when did my mom become your mom, Number 18?”

I lowered the brim of my cap and insisted he’d mistaken me for someone else.

“Sophia Bennett, you kept me for three years. Then you tossed me aside, ended it like it was nothing. Did you really think I was just your dog?”

I trembled. He had recognized me.

“Sophia, do you really think you’re so powerful? Disappearing on me like that? You’re the dog here, with that stubborn temper you’ll never change.”

He was using my own words against me.

The next second, he yanked off my mask. Our eyes locked, the tension between us swelling like a rising tide.

“Adrian, what are you doing? Hurry, or you’ll be late for the board meeting!”