3

Amara’s brows were practically fused together as she glared at her bankbook, desperately trying to remember how her $1,500 had dwindled down to zero.

It hadn’t even been a full week since she got kicked out of her family’s house, and here she was—barely able to pay the delivery guy waiting outside with her lunch.

“Staring at it won’t make the numbers go back up, Amara,”

Ken joked, one of the guys she shared the dorm with.

Normally, she’d ignore him just like she always did, but this time, she had second thoughts. She realized her next few meals—and possibly even her unpaid lunch today—might just depend on him. Especially with the delivery guy blowing up her phone with messages.

“Uhm, hey... how’s your day going, Ken?”

She asked sweetly, flashing him a seductive smile. His grin widened instantly.

“Y-you know my name?” he stammered.

“Of course I do, how could I not?” she purred. “You're looking really good today… hot, actually.”

As she spoke, she casually ran her hand down his thigh. She could feel him tense up—classic reaction. Amara smiled inwardly. Her charms always worked. Always.

“Ah-haha, r-really? You too! You’re insanely beautiful, like… like an angel that just dropped from heaven. Way hotter than any model I’ve seen. I can’t believe you know who I am,” he gushed.

She held back an eye roll. If she didn’t desperately need a guy like Ken right now, she wouldn’t even let him within ten feet of her.

“By the way, it’s almost 1 PM. Have you eaten? I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything since you moved in,” he asked.

That’s my cue, she thought, switching to a pout and softening her voice.

“W-wait, is something wrong?” he asked, clearly concerned.

“Well, speaking of lunch... I haven’t eaten anything since last night,” she said with a sigh. “I ran out of allowance and my parents haven’t transferred anything to my account yet.”

She flashed him her bankbook, showing the empty balance with feigned shame.

“Seriously? That’s awful. Can I help you somehow? Just say the word,” Ken offered, concern written all over his face.

Amara smirked inwardly. Idiot.

“Well, actually… you can,” she said softly. “I ordered food downstairs but I panicked and couldn’t face the delivery guy. I totally forgot I didn’t have cash, so now I’m stuck…”

She bit her lip for dramatic effect.

“Just food? That’s no big deal. I’ll go get it for you. How much is it?” he asked.

“Really? It’s just $300. You have cash on you, right? Don’t worry—I’ll pay you back,” she replied.

“3-300 bucks? For lunch?” he asked, shocked. “Oh, I get it. You probably included dinner too... maybe even some groceries for the week? You’re something else. Alright, fine, I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait, that lunch of yours cost $300? Where the hell did you order from—North Pole?”

Ken gawked at her in disbelief while watching Amara eat like it was a Michelin-starred feast. Amara, on the other hand, wanted to plug her ears.

“Lower your voice, will you? God, it’s splitting my eardrums. Just let me enjoy my food in peace.”

She snapped with an irritated glare.

“But seriously, that’s outrageous—for one meal? You’re basically flushing $80 down the drain. That’s enough to feed the whole dorm for a day!”

Ken looked like he was about to cry.

“Jesus, Ken, I’m eating. Can you not? You people are so gross. Ever heard of table manners?”

“‘You people’?”

“Yeah, you peasants. Broke people. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back. I spend more than that on appetizers. It’s loose change for me. Now shut up and let me eat.”

She said it like it was nothing.

“Are you out of your damn mind, Amara? That’s how you talk to someone who just covered your bill? If you’re not broke, then why are you borrowing money?”

Ken shot back, his tone laced with frustration. Amara glared at him.

“Which part of be quiet do you not get? Seriously, I’m Amara Chanel Aragon, the only heiress to the ARAGON conglomerate—ugh, not like you’d know what that even means. People like you don’t read Forbes or watch Bloomberg. You’d rather binge trashy soap operas. I said I’ll pay you back, so just wait.”

She ranted like a queen addressing her unworthy subject.

“Damn... you really need help.”

Ken shook his head in disbelief. Amara rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I’m done eating. You can have the rest—I lost my appetite. The steak was decent, by the way.”

She scoffed and walked off, leaving him speechless.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Amara mumbled, near tears, as she looked around. She had been walking for almost an hour, completely lost in her thoughts and not even aware of where her feet had taken her.

That’s when she spotted a small, cemented guard station up ahead. She hurried toward it, intending to ask for directions—but her eyes caught on a bulletin board before she could even speak.

It was filled with job postings—mostly domestic work. Her lips curled into a frown.

What was she expecting anyway? A listing for an executive assistant? A business consultant role? In a sleepy suburb like this?

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you looking for work?”

The security guard asked politely as he approached.

Amara quickly shook her head, about to walk away—but paused when a certain flyer caught her attention.

URGENT!

Now Hiring: Live-in Personal Maid

Starting Salary: $3000/week

Call: 555-02*

"$3,000 for a maid? Is that even how much personal maids make? Sir, is this a scam?"

Amara’s disbelieving tone made the security guard laugh before shaking his head.

“No, ma’am, definitely not. We wouldn’t put up an urgent hiring sign if it wasn’t legit. In fact, Mr. Xavier has been looking for a personal maid for almost a month now. He’s super picky—that’s why he hasn’t hired anyone. Why don’t you try applying?”

The guard’s long explanation made Amara roll her eyes.

“I only asked if it was a scam, not your boss’s life story. What is this, ‘The Picky Boss: A Xavier Memoir’? What kind of maid is he even looking for? A Louis Vuitton model?”

She scoffed, making the guard scratch his head and chuckle again.

“Well, maybe, ma’am. But hey, $3,000 is a lot of money. You should give it a try.”

The guard’s words made Amara pause.

“Come to think of it… it’s not like I’m planning on going back to the mansion. I’d starve waiting for a miracle to happen. This might actually be what I need. A job…”

She muttered to herself, lips curling into a smile—only for it to vanish as one important question crossed her mind:

How the hell was she supposed to apply as a maid when she didn’t know the first thing about housekeeping?

She had never even held a broom in her life. She was the one being served, not the other way around. So how could she possibly become someone else’s servant?

“Ahh... I don’t think I can do it…”

She whispered.

“Sorry, ma’am? What did you say?” the guard asked.

“Oh, nothing. I just said I’ll call if I change my mind.”

“Well, ma’am, with the kind of salary Mr. Xavier is offering, people are lining up. Someone might take the job before you.”

Again, Amara paused. He had a point…

“Do you think I could cheat my way in?”

She asked absentmindedly, deep in thought.

“There’s no harm in trying,” the guard replied.

Amara smirked before pulling out her phone from her skirt pocket.

A middle-aged woman greeted Amara as soon as the large golden gates opened. Amara quickly forced a smile when the woman addressed her.

“You must be Amara, right?”

“Yes, that’s me. I’m the one who c—what I mean is, I’m the one who called earlier.”

Amara bit her lip as she tried hard to fix her Tagalog. The old woman smiled and nodded.

“I’m Secunda, but you can call me ‘Nanay Unday.’ I’m the head housekeeper here. Come inside so we can talk.”

The woman led her inside, and Amara followed silently, rehearsing fake answers in her head for the upcoming interview.

She had constructed a complete lie in just thirty minutes.

She wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified by how easy it came to her. Maybe she really was a terrible person, given how quickly she could spin lies.

They arrived at the living room, and Amara sat down, immediately accepting the glass of juice offered by another maid.

“Tell me something about yourself, dear,” Nanay Unday said.

Every interview ever...

Amara muttered in her head before responding:

“Oh yeah, sure. Sorry, I didn’t prepare a resume—it was kind of last-minute. Anyway, my name is Amara Aragon. I’m twenty years old. I studied business management in Davao but had to stop for now and look for work here in Manila.”

She waited for lightning to strike her for lying so confidently.

She also felt like her tongue might twist itself from all the fake politeness.

Because if she told them she was the daughter of a wealthy businessman and sole heiress to her billionaire grandfather, Herman, she was sure she wouldn’t get the job. And Amara desperately needed this job.

“I see. Well, a lot of young people want to continue their studies, but life gets in the way. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be able to finish one day. Anyway, if you’re accepted for this job, you’ll only be serving Mr. Xavier.”

Amara nodded.

“Can I ask, why does your boss need a personal maid? And what kind of work would I be doing?”

“Well, Mr. Xavier is very busy with work, so he needs someone dedicated just to him. That means you’ll always be by his side. You’ll run errands, assist him with anything he needs. Don’t worry, I’m sure you can handle it.”

“Oh absolutely! I’m a hard worker, ma’am—very much so. I can even do laundry, cleaning, and cooking all at the same time!”

Another lie. She bit her lip.

God forbid this woman ever asked her to wash a single dish or cook a meal. She’d burn the entire kitchen down.

“Well then, you can start tomorrow. I’ll have Filipe drive you home so you can pack your things. He’ll pick you up again in the afternoon. You’ll meet Mr. Xavier then, and he’ll explain your duties himself. Don’t worry, our boss is kind.”

The old woman smiled warmly. Amara forced a grin and nodded.

“Crap. Why do I have this feeling this is all going to blow up in my face?”