The Billionaire's Obsession (SPG)

"I don't even know who you are anymore, Amara."

Her grandfather's voice thundered across the room, his anger practically vibrating through the air. Amara let out an exasperated sigh and massaged her aching temple, trying to ease the pounding pain in her head.

"We've given you everything. What more do you want from us?"

Grandpa Herman continued his tirade, causing Amara to roll her eyes in frustration.

"Seriously, Grandpa? It's three in the morning. Can we not do this right now? I'm drunk and exhausted. Can you please just shut up and save the lecture for tomorrow?"

She snapped, her tone dripping with defiance, which only fueled her grandfather's rage. She didn't bother avoiding her father's fiery glare either.

"Your attitude is out of control, Amara. When are you going to learn some respect?"

Her grandfather roared again, but Amara didn't flinch. Instead, she plopped herself down on the plush designer sofa like she owned the world.

"Oh please. What are you going to do this time? Ground me again? That's not going to change who I am, Grandpa. Do your worst."

She smirked arrogantly at him.

"And can everyone please stop treating me like some kid? I'm twenty years old, legally an adult, and I can do whatever the hell I want. And it's not like this is the first time I've been to a party. You're all so dramatic!"

She flopped back on the sofa like it was a bed, groaning from her splitting headache.

How many shots did she take tonight?

"Could someone get my bodyguard to carry me to my room? I'm dizzy and not walking another step."

She waved her hand lazily at her grandfather like he was a servant.

Amara had just closed her eyes when her father's furious voice rang out.

"Goddamn it, Amara, this is insane! Who the hell do you think you are, bossing your grandfather around like that? Get up! Now!"

"Ugh, Dad! If you don't want Grandpa to do it, then you do it. Either way, can you all just shut up? My head is killing me!"

She snapped, still not opening her eyes, too annoyed to care.

"I said get your ass up, Amara! Don't be disrespectful!"

Her father yelled again, yanking her arm roughly.

"Ow! What the hell, Dad?!"

"Go to your room. Now. And tomorrow, you're going to regret this."

His voice was filled with warning as he dragged her up and shoved her toward the stairs.

Amara stomped her feet like a brat before storming up, only to be stopped by her grandfather again.

"Seriously? You people are nuts! You want me to go upstairs, now you're stopping me again? What do you even want?!"

She glared at her grandfather, utterly fed up.

"I don't even know where you got this kind of behavior, Amara. Starting tomorrow, you're not allowed to leave this house without my permission. And from now on, you'll speak respectfully to every single person under this roof. Are we clear?"

Amara rolled her eyes again at his long-winded speech.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever! You're making so many rules in this house, Grandpa. What is this place, Hogwarts?"

The next morning, Amara groaned and cracked one eye open at the loud, obnoxious knocking at her bedroom door. She tried to ignore it and drift back to sleep, but the knocking only grew louder-accompanied by the high-pitched voice of that annoying maid.

"For the love of God, I'm still sleeping!"

She yelled.

"Miss Amara, the sun is high already! You'll be late for your first day at work! Your grandfather insisted you get up early!"

That only made her more irritated.

"Get lost! And tell the old man to stop bothering me. I don't want to work!"

She pulled the covers over her head, but the knocking persisted. Cursing under her breath, Amara staggered toward the door, still half-asleep. Without even opening her eyes, she swung the door open and kicked the person on the other side.

Only when she heard an old man groan in pain did she realize her mistake-followed by her father's furious voice booming behind him.

"You've crossed the line, Amara!"

"Geez, sorry! I thought it was Marie waking me up again! Why are you standing at my door, Grandpa?"

She asked, annoyed but not exactly remorseful.

"You've pushed us too far this time, Amara. You're completely out of control, and we don't know what else to do with you."

Her father glared at her while helping Grandpa Herman up.

"What now? I didn't mean to kick him! Maybe don't barge in on people who are trying to sleep? And I told you-I don't want to go to work! What would I even do there, just sit around like an idiot?"

She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"What the hell is going on now? Why are you all yelling this early?"

Her mother, Carly, rushed over, worry etched on her face.

"I don't know what to do with her anymore, Carly. Her attitude is completely out of line! She's not a teenager, but she acts like a spoiled little brat! She's disrespectful, ungrateful, and she doesn't even show basic manners to us!"

Her dad was red in the face from shouting, and Amara just rolled her eyes.

"Amara, sweetheart, what's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? We gave you everything. We raised you well. Where did we go wrong?"

Her mom's voice cracked with tears.

"Oh my God, can we skip the drama? It's way too early for this."

She muttered with no sympathy.

"That's it. Carly, get the maids. Tell them to pack Amara a small bag of essentials. After that, she's out. I want her out of this house."

Her grandfather's voice was deadly serious. Amara and her mom both froze.

"What, are you shipping me off to China now?"

She snapped.

"No, you're not going overseas. I'm done with you, Amara. I want you gone. Leave-and don't come back until you've grown up and fixed that attitude."

Her grandfather's eyes blazed with fury, and Amara's world tilted.

"What the hell? You're cutting me off? Are you serious right now?"

Her voice shook, fear and disbelief slowly creeping in.

"Mom, do something! I don't want to leave!"

"Don't pull your parents into this, Amara. We've already talked. There's nothing they can do now. Hand over all your credit cards, passbooks, and every single penny in your wallet-including coins. You're not taking the car, the condo keys, or any of your luxuries from this house."

Her grandfather's harsh decree shattered whatever was left of Amara's pride as her tears finally fell.

She is Amara Channel Aragon-the only daughter of Carly and Tim Aragon, sole heiress to their legacy and several family businesses, and the beloved granddaughter of billionaire Herman Aragon.

And in the blink of an eye, everything was gone. All she had left was a meager savings account that probably wasn't even enough to buy a single pair of shoes from her favorite designer store.

She was screwed.

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.

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?"