The Maid Who Tamed the Billionaire’s Orphans

By the end of her first week as household manager, the Morumbi mansion had undergone a silent, tectonic shift. The agency blacklisted status was officially cancelled, and Augusto was breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in a year.

However, adjusting to a new routine wasn't without its speed bumps.

On Friday afternoon, Luía walked into the laundry room to switch a load of towels and stopped dead in her tracks.

The entire room was covered in a thick, sticky layer of multi-colored slime. Every uniform shirt she had ironed that morning was soaked in bright pink detergent, and sitting on top of the washing machine were the twins, Beatriz and Bianca, holding empty bottles of industrial dish soap with impish grins plastered across their faces.

"We made a masterpiece!" Bianca announced proudly.

"A cleaning masterpiece for the cleaning lady!" Beatriz chimed in, giggling uncontrollably.

Luía didn't yell. She didn't slam the door. She stood in the doorway for three full seconds, crossing her arms, her dark eyes scanning the gelatinous disaster zone.

"You know," Luía said thoughtfully, tapping her chin, "this is actually a very impressive chemical reaction. The polyvinyl alcohol in the slime combined with the sodium lauryl sulfate in the dish soap creates a hydrophobic barrier on polyester fibers."

The twins stopped giggling. They exchanged confused glances. That wasn't the reaction they were looking for. Where was the anger? Where were the tears?

"What does that mean?" Beatriz asked suspiciously.

"It means," Luía smiled brightly, stepping into the room, "that you two get the distinct privilege of spending your Friday afternoon learning about textile chemistry. Grab the sponges, girls. We're scrubbing the walls from top to bottom."

"You can't make us!" Bianca protested, sliding off the washing machine.

"I'm not making you," Luía replied smoothly, picking up a bucket and filling it with warm water. "Your father is upstairs reviewing the weekly allowance ledger. I can either report that you assisted in a very productive science experiment, or I can report that you sabotaged the household laundry. The choice of how much allowance you have left for ice cream next week is entirely yours."

The twins stared at her in horror. They looked at the bucket, then at each other, and finally realized they had met their match.