2

Amara froze in disbelief the moment she descended their grand staircase. Right there, waiting at the foot of the stairs, was a small, old luggage—something that looked like it belonged to one of the housemaids.

“Very well, since you’re already here,” her grandfather greeted coldly, “hand over all your cards. And I mean everything, Amara.”

She stared blankly, unmoving. She couldn’t bring herself to comply.

She knew the moment she handed them over, it would be the end. No more safety net. No more second chances.

“Stop fighting this, young lady. It’s useless,” her grandfather snapped. “I’ve made up my mind. You’re being kicked out.”

When he stepped toward her, she instinctively clutched her designer handbag tighter—like her new-season Gucci tote could somehow save her from ruin.

“No! Let go, Grandpa! These are mine!” she cried out, her voice cracking.

Tears welled up as her grandfather yanked the bag from her grip. “You can’t do this! I need my credit cards, my bank books—how else am I supposed to survive?”

But the old man didn’t seem to hear. Amara couldn’t tell if he had gone deaf with age or if he simply didn’t care.

She burst into sobs as he pulled out a pink pouch containing all her passbooks and cards. He even took her wallet—down to the last hundred-peso bill she considered “loose change.”

“What? Are you seriously cutting me off?” she wailed. “Mom, please! Don’t just stand there—say something!”

Her mother only wept silently, avoiding her gaze.

“This is insane!” Amara cried. “What, you think forcing me to live some tragic, poverty-ridden life will magically fix me?”

“To make you live a modest life is the only way you’ll learn, Amara,” her grandfather said firmly. “Here. I believe this bank account is legally yours. I won’t take it. From now on, you’ll get nothing else from us. Use what’s in there to start over. And you better hurry—it’s hard to catch a tricycle after dark.”

He motioned for the house staff to carry her dusty old bag outside.

“I’m leaving now? Grandpa, where am I even supposed to find a decent hotel? It’s a holiday—every luxury place is probably booked! And this—this won’t even cover a plane ticket! I have to be in London next week to meet my friends!”

Even through her tears, she couldn’t help but whine in a bratty tone, waving the passbook like it was an insult.

Her grandfather just stared at her in silence.

Then, her father finally spoke up—without even meeting her eyes.

“Learn to budget, Amara. You’ll never understand the value of money until you earn it. Make that account last until you find a job.”

Amara was stunned. Silent. Her eyes begged for mercy, but none came.

“You’re not staying in any fancy hotel tonight,” her grandfather added sharply. “Be thankful your mother insisted on finding you a place to stay. Tonya will take you there now.”

He gestured toward the maid, who would now be her only companion.

Her grandfather turned and walked away.

Neither of her parents said another word. They just followed after him.

“You’re all monsters!” she screamed. “I can’t believe this is happening to me!”

“Oh. My. Gosh…”

Amara had no idea how long she’d been staring blankly at the rundown building in front of her.

A moldy sign on the gate read:

“WE ACCEPT BOARDERS”

“Are you serious?” she muttered, horrified. “This place is made of bricks and dust. Light a match, and it’s hell on earth.”

She scanned the area and immediately cringed at the group of men drinking nearby.

“P-pardon me, Miss Amara,” the maid said nervously. “But we need to go inside now. I’ll help you settle into your room. Your mom insisted.”

Amara rolled her eyes and pointed to the gate.

“Then you open the damn thing. I’m not touching those rusty bars—I might catch something.”

With a sigh, the maid obeyed.

As soon as they entered, Amara was greeted by a chaotic, noisy living room. At least ten people were scattered about—guys and girls, some pretending to study, others clearly just killing time. It was loud, messy, and completely beneath her.

She groaned in disgust.

“Well, look at that… Amara Channel Aragon, welcome to hell.”

She whispered to herself, nearly jumping when a high-pitched voice rang out.

“Tonya! Is that really you?”

A cheerful woman threw her arms around the maid.

Amara grimaced.

“And this must be your niece you’ve been talking about! What a beautiful young lady. Hello, sweetheart! I’m Selma Batumbakal—you can call me Mama Sel.”

The woman beamed and offered her hand.

Amara looked at it like it was contagious. She forced a plastic smile and didn’t shake it.

“I already have a mother,” she said coldly.

Mama Sel just laughed. “Oh, sweetie, I mean I’ll be like your second mom here in the dorm! Kids—come here!”

The shrillness made Amara want to plug her ears. Still, it worked. Everyone turned to look.

“These are your new siblings while you’re here,” Mama Sel said. “Help each other out. Go on, introduce yourself.”

Amara tried to force another smile, but it turned into more of a wince.

“Miss Amara, please don’t be too difficult—”

“I am Amara Channel Aragon,” she cut in loudly. “I am rich, and I don’t want anyone around me. I’m not here to make friends with anyone in this... place—if you can even call it a house. Now, who’s volunteering to be my personal servant?”

With her chin lifted and a commanding tone, she said something that left everyone stunned.

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay you—handsomely.”

She added with a smirk.

“I’m sorry about my niece,” the older woman said awkwardly, scratching her head. “She’s just being cheeky. But miss, you’re not allowed to hire a maid here.”

“Well, what’s your deal then?” the girl shot back. “You can’t stay here and be my maid? I mean…”

She trailed off, her gaze subtly sweeping the woman from head to toe.

“I don’t know what kind of nonsense my delusional grandfather told you, or how I became your ‘niece,’ but here’s the truth—you don’t look good, you’re old, and honestly, you smell awful. But I don’t have anyone else, so I’m ordering you to stay here and work for me.”

“I’m sorry, miss,” the woman said softly, clearly embarrassed. “Your grandfather instructed us not to obey you. He even predicted you’d say that. You’re on your own from now on.”

“Whatever. If you’re useless, then get out.”

“Your mother said we should at least help you settle in—”

“Hey, grandma, can you just show me my room already? Is it clean? I’m allergic to dust, so I hope you actually knew how to clean properly.”

She was talking to the landlady of the boarding house, who had introduced herself earlier. The older woman paused for a moment, clearly taken aback by her rude behavior, but forced a smile and led her toward a wooden staircase.

—

By dinner time, Amara had yet another problem: food. She was used to being called down by her maid when the table was already set. But things were different in the dump her parents and grandfather had thrown her into.

No one served her here—she had to fend for herself. One of the other tenants even mentioned that everyone cooked their own meals.

“Ugh… cook?

I don’t even know how to hold a damn chopping board,”

she muttered with a deep frown. Amara tried to bribe the others with a generous amount of money to cook and serve her, but they just laughed, probably thinking she was joking.

Not that she could blame them. She was wearing an old, shapeless dress that wouldn’t even pass in a thrift store. She was sure it used to belong to one of the maids, and her grandfather had forced her to wear it before she left. On top of that, she’d been introduced as the “niece” of the woman dressed like a housekeeper.

Amara let out a frustrated sigh and looked down at her bank passbook.

$1500.

That’s all that was left.

A bitter smile curled on her lips. She had burned through everything in just three days. Budgeting wasn’t exactly in her vocabulary.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Overwhelmed by emotions and self-pity, Amara couldn’t hold back her tears any longer.

“Everything really is gone now, isn’t it?” she whispered to herself, then collapsed onto the bed, deciding to sleep off her hunger.