“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.