My Child and I Married a Billionaire

"I know you’ve been working so hard, and it’s rare that you get a chance to relax for the New Year. I don’t want to spoil your fun. How about this: you’re free to go after we pay our respects to the ancestors tomorrow. Okay?"

Zeke Walton’s hands were full, so he placed his phone on the table and put it on speaker.

Amina heard every word Mrs. Walton said.

’What a godsend! Now I don’t have to come up with an excuse to send Zeke Walton away!’

Before Zeke Walton could reply to his mother, she kicked his foot hard under the table.

Zeke Walton looked at her as Amina frantically mouthed at him.

"Go back! Go back!"

Every year on the second day of the Lunar New Year, they paid respects to his grandparents. Zeke Walton knew this was tradition, and he hadn’t planned on refusing anyway.

"Got it, Mom. But I have plans with a friend tonight that I can’t break, so I won’t be home. Don’t worry, I’ll be back on time tomorrow morning."

The call ended, and Zeke Walton glared at Amina, displeased.

"Is my performance as your servant not up to par? Do you dislike me this much? Do you hate being with me so much? Are you that desperate to get rid of me?"

Amina grinned cheekily. "No, of course not! I was just worried you’d neglect your important business because of me. Your mom is right. You can come back after you’ve paid your respects."

Zeke Walton shamelessly stayed another night at Amina’s place and went home early the next morning.

The moment he was gone, Amina changed her clothes and went to find Simone Vaughn.

The door opened. When they saw each other, they both smiled amicably.

Simone Vaughn invited her in, had her change into slippers, and handed her an outfit.

"The work will be pretty tiring, and I have heated floors, so you’ll start sweating if you wear something that thick. Wear this. I brought it back from abroad especially for this. It’s what all the maids and cleaners wear when they work over there."

Amina didn’t think much of it and even found it quite considerate.

"Thank you."

She took the outfit into the first-floor maid’s room. When she unfolded it, she was stunned.

’What kind of outfit is this?’

’I’ve seen these on TV before, but I always thought it was just for shows—that no one dressed like this in real life. I can’t believe maids and cleaners in rich families really dress the same way as they do on TV...’

It felt incredibly awkward, but figuring it was just the house rules, Amina put on the outfit. The only things left were a pair of white, knee-high socks with bows on them.

She didn’t know how to put them on and thought they looked weird and would just get in the way. Feeling embarrassed, she walked out holding them.

"Excuse me, Miss. Do I have to wear these, too? I’ve never worn anything like this before. Is it okay if I don’t...?"

Simone Vaughn was sitting on the sofa chatting with a few of her close friends. Hearing her voice, they all looked over in unison.

Seeing her obediently dressed up, looking every bit the part, they could barely stop themselves from bursting out laughing.

"So pretty! That outfit looks amazing on you! You’ve got the face and the figure for it—you’d look good in anything! The socks are to protect your calves and knees, so you have to wear them. You don’t know how, right? I’ll teach you. Come on, come on."

Simone Vaughn coaxed and conned Amina into putting on the socks, then paired them with a small pair of black leather shoes. Taking Amina’s hand, she spun her around twice.

"Looks good, but you’re lacking a bit of color. Here, let me put some of my lipstick on you."

After dolling Amina up, she was extremely satisfied.

"Perfect. Now, darling, I’ll have to trouble you to get started. We have some things to talk about over here."

Amina took her at her word. She picked up the vacuum cleaner and examined it for a moment before she started diligently mopping the floor.

The women scrambled over each other behind the sofa to secretly take pictures of her.

Soon, a series of photos, taken from deliberately chosen angles, were sent to the rich kids’ group chat.

In the photos, Amina wore a pink and white maid’s costume, her legs clad in cute yet sexy bow-tied socks, and a pair of small black leather shoes on her feet. She looked just like a waitress from a certain type of movie or a shot girl at a bar—the absolute picture of seduction.

What’s more, the poses she was captured in were enough to get anyone’s blood pumping.

In some, she seemed to be deliberately arching her back into an S-curve; in others, her low neckline was pointed toward the camera; and in still others, it was her rear, clad in its short skirt.

Each photo was brimming with suggestion.

Just as Simone Vaughn had expected, it quickly caused a huge stir.

"What’s going on? Who is this? Damn, what are you guys up to? You really know how to have fun!"

"This girl has a great body. What’s the deal with posting this? You trying to introduce her to us?"

"Let’s see her face! Let’s see her face!"

"Those long legs are to die for! Dibs on asking first—does she have a boyfriend?"

Simone Vaughn kept them in suspense and deliberately sent an address.

"2 PM. We’re having a party here. Anyone who wants to come is welcome."

They were all bored and looking for something to do, and this was a party thrown by a hottie. Of course they were going to go.

It wasn’t even afternoon yet, and waves of people were already pouring into the villa.

Men and women alike, they all came for Amina.

They were curious to see what scheme Simone Vaughn was cooking up.

Regardless of gender, after arriving, they were all captivated by Amina’s beauty and figure.

"Isn’t that the mixed-race girl who was delivering food with Zeke Walton yesterday? Why is she cleaning your house? Is this cosplay?"

Simone Vaughn sneered. "’Mixed-race’? Or is it more likely she’s just an illiterate hick from some ethnic minority, a real-deal delivery girl, a bumpkin who’ll do anything for cash? Just listen to her broken Mandarin. Stop trying to paint her as something special."

So she was from an ethnic minority. And she was really just a delivery girl. Then how could Zeke Walton possibly know her?

Simone Vaughn’s face turned cold as she scolded the crowd.

"Don’t you ever mention that son of a bitch in front of me again. I forbid his name from being spoken in my house! It’s a perfectly good day. Can’t we talk about something cheerful?"

Everyone knew she and Zeke Walton had a nasty falling out, so it really wasn’t right to bring him up in front of her. They all shut their mouths.

The women went to sit down, chat, and eat, while the men all went to gawk at Amina.

Amina didn’t know what was happening, nor did she understand Simone Vaughn.

’She said yesterday she hated men and couldn’t stand the sound of their voices. Why are there so many here today?’

But adhering to the principle that she was just there to work and it was none of her business, she didn’t ask anything and silently went up to the second floor.

She didn’t expect the men to follow her upstairs so quickly.

Some were holding drinks, others had cigarettes dangling from their lips, wandering around the rooms and looking around.

Amina had never been around so many adult men at once, and on top of that, she was wearing this strange outfit. She felt very uncomfortable.

The men milled around her for a bit. She tried to slip away to the third floor to work while they were distracted, but she’d barely taken two steps when a man blocked her path, spilling his red wine all over her.

"Oh, shoot. Sorry, miss. Are you okay?"

As he spoke, the man reached out to wipe it off her, but Amina quickly dodged away.

"I’m fine, I’m fine."

"I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose. Let me help you wipe that off."

"No, thank you. I can do it myself."

Amina kept her head hung low, not even glancing at the man’s face. She tried to leave again as she spoke, but the man, with a great show of sincerity, insisted on apologizing.

"Don’t go! Look, your clothes are soaked. You’ll be uncomfortable if you don’t dry off. Come on, come on, let me wipe it off for you."

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