The Nanny Is the Billionaire's Missing Wife

​“This is less than what we agreed on.” Valerius’s voice came out cold and sharp as she stared at the middle-aged man sitting half-naked on the edge of the motel bed. 

​The man let out a drunken laugh while buttoning his pants lazily. “You should be grateful I’m paying at all.”

​Valerius’s jaw tightened. For five years, she had survived men like this. Drunk men. Disgusting men. Powerful men who thought money gave them the right to treat people like trash. But tonight, she was too exhausted to tolerate it. “You promised me three hundred dollars,” she said flatly. “That’s barely half.”

​The man suddenly grabbed her waist and yanked her onto his lap without warning. “Then earn the rest properly.”

​The smell of alcohol on his breath nearly made her sick. Valerius reacted instantly. Her heel slammed down onto his foot with brutal force.

​“FUCK!”

​Before the man could recover, a loud slap cracked across the motel room. His head snapped sideways.

​“You’re lucky that’s all I did,” Valerius hissed, stepping back. “Now put the rest of the money on the table before I break your nose too.”

​The man clutched his burning cheek in disbelief. “You bitch,” he spat furiously. “You seriously don’t know your place.”

​Valerius didn’t even flinch. Insults stopped hurting a long time ago.

The man cursed again under his breath before throwing several bills onto the bed. “There. Happy now?”

​Valerius snatched the money and counted it quickly. Still short. But before she could argue again, violent pounding suddenly shook the motel door.

​“HAROLD!” An angry woman’s scream echoed through the corridor. “You cheating bastard! Open this door right now!”

​The drunk man’s face instantly turned pale. Valerius rolled her eyes. “Your wife?” she asked dryly.

​Another violent bang rattled the door. Without wasting another second, Valerius grabbed her jacket and slipped out through the emergency exit at the end of the corridor before the situation could turn even uglier.

​Cold night air hit her face immediately. Outside, the streets still looked damp from the rain. Neon signs flickered weakly above rundown liquor stores and bars while drunken strangers wandered along the sidewalks like ghosts. 

Shoving both hands into her jacket pockets, Valerius started walking home alone.

​Five years ago, she woke up in a hospital with no memory of who she was. No family. No past. No identity. Only a name—Valerius.

​The name had been given to her by the man who found her unconscious on the side of a highway after a horrific accident. Osias. If not for him, she probably would have died long ago.

​But saving her had come with a price. Osias worked in illegal nightlife circles filled with gambling, debt collectors, and dangerous men. And over time, Valerius had been dragged into that world too. Not because she wanted to. Because survival left her no choice.

​The rain grew heavier as she finally reached the tiny apartment building where she lived. The hallway smelled damp and rotten. By the time she pushed open the apartment door, her entire body ached from exhaustion. The room was pitch-black. The electricity had been cut off weeks ago.

​Valerius lit a candle before stepping farther inside. Osias sat alone near the kitchen table, smoking silently in the dark. The exhaustion on his face looked worse than usual.

​Valerius tossed the damp money onto the table. “Only a hundred and eighty tonight,” she muttered. “That old bastard refused to pay the rest.”

​Osias looked at the money, guilt flashing across his tired expression. “You should quit.”

Valerius let out a humorless laugh. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

Osias was quiet for a moment before finally saying, “I found something.”

​Valerius glanced at him.

​“There’s a luxury restaurant in Manhattan looking for cleaning staff,” Osias said quickly. “The pay is decent. Better than this.”

​Valerius frowned immediately. “A cleaner?”

​“It’s a high-end place for rich people,” Osias continued. “Tips alone are probably enough to cover rent.” He hesitated briefly. “And maybe you can finally stop doing this.”

The apartment fell silent. 

Valerius looked down at the money on the table. She hated earning it this way, but she still needed it.

Rent was overdue. Debt collectors were after Osias. And surviving in New Jersey without money was impossible.

​Finally, she exhaled slowly. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

***

​The next afternoon, Valerius stood inside the employee restroom of a luxury restaurant called The Obsidian. 

The difference between this place and her apartment felt unreal. Everything gleamed. Black marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Soft piano music echoing through the massive dining hall. Even the employee restroom looked more expensive than anything she had ever lived in.

​Valerius tied her dark brown hair into a neat ponytail before staring at herself in the mirror. The black-and-white housekeeping uniform hung loosely against her slender frame. Still, nothing could hide her striking face or her unusually wide eyes. Eyes people constantly remembered.

​Valerius grabbed the cleaning supplies and stepped into the restaurant. She kept her head down while wiping tables carefully. 

Don’t cause problems. Don’t attract attention. Finish the shift. That was all she wanted.

But near the center of the restaurant, her attention briefly drifted toward the VIP section, where a man dressed entirely in black sat calmly at the largest table. He had a sharp jaw, dark hair, and a cold posture that made everyone around him seem careful. A pair of black sunglasses rested against the bridge of his nose.

It was Gideon Vance.

Valerius recognized him immediately. One of the richest men in Manhattan, his face often appeared in magazines, newspapers, and on television. People like him existed in a completely different world from hers.

Valerius quickly looked away and returned to work.

​Unfortunately, someone else had already noticed her. At a nearby table, a middle-aged investor stared openly at her body with filthy interest in his eyes.

​Then suddenly…

​His wineglass tipped over deliberately, spilling red wine all across the floor near Valerius’s feet. 

Suppressing her irritation, Valerius walked over and knelt down to clean it.

​“Hey, sweetheart,” the man murmured. The smell of cigar smoke clung heavily to his breath. “How much would it cost to have you clean my private apartment tonight?”

​Valerius’s movements stopped. Slowly, she lifted her eyes toward him. “I only clean the restaurant, sir.”

​The man smirked. “Come on. Girls like you always offer extra services.” Then his hand groped her right there in public.

​Silence shattered. The slap echoed so loudly that several guests gasped. The investor staggered backward in shock, clutching his reddening cheek.

​Valerius rose to her feet, fury blazing in her eyes. “Touch me again,” she said coldly, “and I’ll break your hand.”

​The entire restaurant froze. And at the VIP table—Gideon Vance slowly lowered his sunglasses. The moment he saw her face clearly, the glass in his hand nearly slipped from his fingers. His breathing stopped. Those eyes. That face. Impossible.

​“Evanthe?”