The Billionaire's Hidden Quadruplet

<<<10:00 GMT>>>

Amanda hurried into the hotel, her chest rising and falling from the sprint. Late again. Her stomach sank when she heard her boss’s voice echo across the kitchen.

“Where is Amanda? Don’t tell me she’s late again.”

Amanda froze. That tone cold, sharp, final. She braced herself.

“Half of your salary will be deducted,” her boss said when she finally entered. “And don’t plead. You’re also handling ninety percent of today’s service. Be prepared.”

“Ma’am—” Amanda started, but the woman was already gone.

Her colleague, Fumi, gave her a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry, Amanda.”

Amanda forced a smile. “It’s fine. I’ve survived worse.”

It wasn’t really fine. She was only late because she’d been babysitting her neighbor’s children. She needed that extra money.

Now half her pay was gone.

Half.

She tied her hair into a bun, slipped on her apron, and pushed through the ache in her chest. Rent was overdue. Bills were piling up. But quitting wasn’t an option.

Hours passed. The mop bucket sloshed, her hands scrubbed until her knuckles ached. The scent of bleach filled her nose as sweat dripped into her eyes.

By nightfall, exhaustion blurred her vision.

“Hey, Amanda! Mrs. Albert says you’ll handle the new guest in Room 406,” her colleague called, handing her a menu.

“Got it,” Amanda replied quietly, hiding her fatigue.

She didn’t know that single order would change her life.

Later that night, her colleagues were laughing and drinking a small birthday celebration. Amanda joined them, letting the laughter drown her thoughts. She forgot, for a moment, that alcohol always hit her harder than it should.

By the time she stood to leave, her steps were uneven.

“Be safe, Amanda!” someone called.

She smiled weakly and waved, but halfway out the door, a thought struck her like a jolt.

My wallet.

She’d left it in one of the rooms she’d cleaned earlier the same one the new customer had checked into.

Cursing under her breath, she hurried back upstairs. When she reached the door, it was locked. She typed in the code, but before she could react, the door swung open and a strong arm yanked her inside.

The door slammed shut.

Everything went dark.

Amanda woke to sunlight and pain. Her head throbbed. Her throat was dry. The bed beneath her wasn’t hers.

She turned and saw a man’s watch gleaming on the pillow.

But the man himself was gone.

She clutched the sheet to her chest as last night came back in fragments her protests, the weight, the smell of whiskey, the feeling of being trapped. Tears filled her eyes.

She didn’t even know his name.

It wasn’t the first time life had been cruel to her, but this — this felt like the final straw. She showered in silence, found clean clothes in the wardrobe, and fled the hotel without a word to anyone.

Back at her small apartment, Amanda sat on the couch, hollow.

Her roommate, Mabel, noticed immediately. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, though her tone carried more curiosity than concern.

Amanda tried to smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re crying, Amanda. What happened? Did your boss fire you?” Mabel pressed, secretly hoping it was true.

“No… it’s worse than that,” Amanda whispered. “I can’t go back there. Not after what happened.”

Mabel tilted her head, feigning sympathy. “Tell me.”

Amanda hesitated — then broke. “I was… forced. Last night. I don’t even remember his face.”

Mabel gasped dramatically. “What? That’s horrible! Did you at least find anything a name, an address?”

Amanda shook her head, then reached into her purse. “Only this.”

She handed over the man’s watch.

The second Mabel saw it, her breath caught. It was expensive limited edition, pure luxury. She’d seen it online. A billionaire’s kind of accessory.

She slept with a billionaire.

Mabel’s heart twisted with envy.

Amanda looked up, confused. “Do you know who owns it?”

Mabel forced a laugh. “No. Probably fake, right? But you should forget about all this. Let me get rid of the watch for you, so you won’t have to keep remembering.”

Amanda hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Mabel.”

Mabel smiled sweetly, hiding her excitement. “I’ll throw it out. You rest.”

Amanda walked to her room. The moment she was gone, Mabel slipped the watch onto her wrist.

“Oh, Amanda,” she whispered, smirking. “So easy to fool.”

She snapped a photo of the watch and uploaded it across her social media. Within minutes, comments poured in.

Omg, luxury queen!

Girl, who’s your sugar daddy?

Mabel grinned. “Let them talk.”

She stepped outside to admire her reflection in the car mirror just as a sleek black Rolls Royce pulled up to their building.

Her heart skipped.

A tall man in black stepped out and approached her. His eyes went straight to her wrist.

“Where did you get that watch?” he asked, voice sharp.

Mabel swallowed. “It’s mine. Obviously.”

The man’s expression softened slightly. “Good. The owner would like to meet you. Come with me.”

Her pulse raced. “The owner?”

He opened the car door. “Yes. He asked for whoever was wearing that watch.”

Mabel didn’t think twice. She slid into the back seat, excitement buzzing in her chest.

As the car pulled away, she looked out the window, smiling triumphantly.

If people called her selfish so be it. Amanda had her chance. Now it was her turn.