I was being hired to do the impossible.
"Zay."
Iris's voice pulled me back. She was leaning over, her ramen forgotten, trying to read the screen.
"What is it? You've been staring at that thing for like five minutes."
I didn't answer. She leaned closer, her chin nearly resting on my shoulder as she scanned the document.
Her eyes went wide.
"Ten thousand dollars a month?!"
"Keep reading."
She did. Her expression shifted as she absorbed the details. The car. The weekends. The performance clause.
"They're giving you a Lexus?" she asked.
"Loaning. Not giving. Big difference."
"What kind of Lexus?"
I was already typing into my phone's search bar. An image filled the screen. Sleek black sedan. Curved lines. LED headlights that looked like something out of a science fiction movie. The interior shots showed leather seats, a digital dashboard, technology that belonged in a different universe from our battered apartment.
Iris made a sound that was half gasp, half whisper.
"That's... that's a real car. Like, a grown-up car."
"Apparently."
I closed the laptop.
The screen went dark. The glow from the TV became the only light source again. The YouTuber had started a new game, but neither of us was paying attention anymore.
"That's the offer," I said. "The money is life-changing. I'd be home by ten on weeknights instead of two in the morning."
"But?" Iris asked. She always knew when a 'but' was coming.
"Two weekends a month. I'd be gone Friday evening through Sunday evening. And the job isn't just... running errands. I have to tutor one of the daughters. Improve her grades by the end of the semester or I'm out."
"Can you do that?"
"Seven people have already tried and failed."
Iris processed this. Her expression shifted into something serious.
"Two weekends a month," she repeated. "So... four days total?"
"Technically six since I'll be gone Friday."
"But you'd be home every weeknight?"
"By ten, theoretically."
"And you wouldn't have to take the train anymore?"
"I'd have the car."
"And we'd have..." She paused, doing the math in her head. "Ten thousand a month instead of three?"
"Before taxes, but essentially yes."
The silence stretched between us. On the screen, the YouTuber encountered another jump scare. Neither of us flinched.
"I could stay at Sarah's house on those weekends," Iris said finally. "Her mom loves me. She's always asking if I want to come over for dinner."
"Iris..."
"Or I could stay here. I'm fourteen, Zay, not four. I know how to lock a door and use a microwave."
"This neighborhood..."
"Is the same neighborhood it's always been. And Mrs. Delgado checks on me every day anyway. Mr. Kowalski too. They're like backup parents I didn't ask for."
I opened my mouth to argue. She cut me off.
"We could call. And FaceTime. Every night if you want." She looked at me, her dark eyes clear, her expression certain. "And you'd be here. Really here. For dinner on weeknights. We haven't had that since... forever."
My chest tightened.
She was right.
When was the last time we'd eaten dinner together on a weekday? When was the last time I'd been home before midnight, before she'd already fallen asleep with her sketchbook open on her chest?
Years.
It had been years.
Iris reached over and put her hand on the closed laptop. Her fingers were small against the worn plastic surface, her nails painted a chipped purple that was already starting to peel.
"Take the job, Zay. It's a no-brainer." She smiled, and for a moment she looked exactly like mom. The good version of mom. "I'll be fine. We'll be better."
I looked at Iris.
She was willing to give up eight days a month with me so that I could be present for the other twenty-two.
She was willing to sacrifice so I wouldn't have to sacrifice everything.
For her, I thought. I'd sign anything.
I opened the laptop again.
The document was still there. The e-sign button glowed at the bottom of the page, waiting for my decision.
"You're sure?" I asked.
"Positive."
"If anything happens while I'm gone..."
"I'll call you immediately. And Mrs. Delgado. And probably the fire department, the police, and the national guard, in that order."
"I'm serious, Iris."
"So am I." She punched my shoulder lightly. "Stop treating me like a baby. I've been basically running this apartment while you work yourself to death for three years. I think I can handle two weekends a month."
I clicked the signature box. A keypad appeared, asking for my legal name.
I typed: Isaiah Marcus Angelo
The document processed. A confirmation message appeared.
Signature complete. Document has been sent to all parties.
"Done," I said.
Iris whooped and threw her arms around my neck, nearly knocking the laptop off my lap. Her ramen cup tumbled to the floor, spilling broth across the worn carpet.
"We're getting a car!" she yelled. "A real car! Zay, we're going to be like actual people!"
"We were already actual people."
"You know what I mean! Rich people! Normal people! People who don't have to count coins for laundry!"
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. She smelled like instant noodles and the cheap shampoo we bought in bulk from the dollar store.
"It's just a job," I said.
"It's a fancy job with a fancy car and fancy money."
"The money's not fancy. It's just... more."
"More is fancy when you're starting from less than nothing." She pulled back, grinning. "I can't wait to tell Sarah. She's going to flip. Her family has a Honda Civic and she acts like it's a Rolls-Royce."
"Don't tell anyone about the job specifics."
"Why not?"
"Because the people I'm working for are... complicated. And I signed an NDA."
"A what?"
"A non-disclosure agreement. It means I can't talk about them publicly."
Iris's eyes went wide. "Are they famous? Are they criminals? Are they famous criminals?"
"No, they're... they're the Valentine family."
Silence.
"Wait." Iris sat up straighter. "Valentine? Like Valentine cosmetics? Like the makeup brand?"
"Yes."
"Zay. That's like... they're on billboards. They're in magazines. They're on the sides of buses."
"I know."
"You're going to work for the Valentine family?"
"For their daughters, specifically."
Iris stared at me. Then she grabbed her phone and started typing furiously.
"What are you doing?"
"Googling."
"Iris..."
"Oh my god, they're gorgeous. Like, unfairly gorgeous. All four of them." She held up her phone, showing me an image of the Valentine sisters at some charity gala. Wine-red hair, purple eyes, designer dresses, perfect smiles. "You're going to be working with them? Living in their house on weekends?"
"Apparently."
"Zay." She lowered her phone, her expression shifting to something between awe and concern. "These girls are way out of your league."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I'm serious. They look like anime characters come to life. And you look like..." She gestured vaguely at me. "You."
"Again. Thanks."
"Just... be careful, okay? Rich people are weird. They have different rules."
You have no idea, I thought. But I just nodded.
"I'll be careful."
"And text me. Every day. Even when you're at the mansion."
"I will."
"And eat real food, not just whatever fancy stuff they probably serve."
"Iris, rich people have excellent food. That's like the whole point of being rich."
"You know what I mean. Don't forget about us normal folk just because you're rubbing elbows with billionaires."
I ruffled her hair. She swatted my hand away.
"Never," I said. "You're the reason I'm doing this, remember?"
She softened at that. The playful annoyance faded from her expression, replaced by something gentler.
"I know," she said quietly. "And I love you for it. Even if you are an idiot who works too hard."
"Love you too, brat."
She stuck her tongue out at me. I stuck mine out back.
My phone buzzed. A new email notification.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Welcome to the Valentine Household
Mr. Angelo,
Your signed agreement has been received. You will report to the Valentine Estate on Monday at 3:30 PM to begin your one month probationary period. A vehicle will be delivered to your residence Sunday evening for your use beginning Monday morning.
Welcome to the family.
Regards,
Miranda
Personal Assistant to Mrs. Camille Valentine
***
END OF VOLUME ONE: The Cards I Was Dealt
===
Author's Note
Hey everyone, Riki here.
So you made it to the end of Volume One. Twenty-six chapters of Isaiah Angelo getting thrown headfirst into the Valentine family chaos, and you stuck around for the whole ride. That means something to me. Genuinely.
When I started writing this story, I had a simple idea. What happens when you take a guy who has absolutely nothing except his brain and his work ethic, and you drop him into a world where money flows like water and four gorgeous sisters treat personal assistants like disposable tissues? Seven assistants quit before Isaiah even walked through those ridiculous golden gates. Seven people looked at the Valentine household and said "absolutely not."
Isaiah looked at ten thousand dollars a month and said "absolutely yes."
That's the difference between someone who has options and someone who doesn't. And that tension, that gap between worlds, is what makes this story tick for me.
I want to take a second to thank you for reading. Not the generic "thanks for your support" that every author slaps at the end of their work. I mean actually thank you. You chose to spend your time with these characters. You could have read anything else. You could have watched a show or played a game or doom-scrolled through social media until your eyes glazed over. Instead you chose this.
Now, here's where I have to put on my business hat for a second. Starting with Volume Two, chapters will be available through Webnovel's premium system. I know, I know. Nobody likes paywalls. But here's the reality of my situation: writing is my job. Not my hobby, not my side hustle, my actual job.
The one that pays my rent and keeps instant ramen on my table. And the only way I can keep producing content at the pace you deserve is if the story generates enough support to justify the time investment.
The good news? For dedicated readers, you can get up to twenty chapters ahead by unlocking the Privilege tiers. That's right. Twenty chapters. While everyone else is watching Isaiah survive his first week at the mansion, you could already be deep into the chaos that comes later. And trust me, it gets chaotic.
Your support does more than just keep me writing. The more engagement this story gets, the more Webnovel pushes it to new readers. The more new readers discover it, the more motivation I have to write faster. The more I write, the more content you get. It's a win-win-win situation. Everybody benefits.
So if you've enjoyed Volume One, consider dropping a power stone or golden ticket. Leave a comment. Write a review. Unlock those Privilege chapters if you can. Every bit of support helps, and I genuinely read all the feedback you leave.
Volume Two starts Monday. Isaiah's first official day as the Valentine family's newest employee. His first real test of whether he can survive where seven others failed.
The Valentine sisters are waiting.
And they're not known for being patient.
See you soon.
Riki out