A Billionaire Never Thought His Twin Girls Could Smile Again… Until He Saw His Maid Doing This!

A New World on Victoria Island

Across the city, beyond bridges and tall lights, a cold mansion watched the night through tall glass. A man with a tired jaw stood at a window, not seeing the city as much as surviving it.

In a nursery, two little girls turned away from each other to sleep. Like people who had learned to expect disappointment, morning arrived like a command.

Grace bathed, dressed, and tied her hair in a neat bun. Mama pressed a small Gideon New Testament into her palm.

“For pocket,” she said, “for courage.”

Grace stepped into the Lagos sun, into danfo noise and impatient horns, into a future that smelled like salt air and polished marble. She didn’t know the mansion she was walking into had already broken three nannies in two months.

Victoria Island looked like another country compared to Grace’s street in Surulere. The air felt expensive.

Even the flowers by the road stood straighter. Cars glided past, sleek, tinted, and silent.

Grace clutched her small handbag tighter, whispering the address again to herself as the taxi slowed before massive black gates. The guard house stood like a miniature fortress.

A uniformed man stepped out, his face sharp with suspicion.

“Yes, who are you looking for?”

“Good morning, sir,” Grace said, adjusting her voice to sound braver than her nerves.

“I’m Grace Williams. I was told to report for the nanny position.”

He studied her handbag, her plain shoes, and her folded posture. After a pause, he pressed the intercom.

The gates opened slowly, like a mouth considering whether to swallow her. The compound stretched like a quiet kingdom.

Marble caught the morning sun. Glass reflected skies that felt too clean for Lagos.

Grace had only seen such houses in glossy calendars. She whispered under her breath, “God, don’t let me be small here.”

A tall woman approached from the steps, hands clasped behind her back, eyes sharp as razors. She was dressed in gray with a head tie folded as neat as a ledger.

“You must be the new nanny,” she said flatly.

“Yes, Ma,” Grace replied, bowing her head.

“I am Madame Tina, house manager. I run this house and I will tell you the truth.”

She let her eyes sweep Grace from bun to shoe.

“Nannies don’t last here. The last three left in less than a month.”

Grace’s throat tightened.

“Three?”

“Mr. Adrien is particular. The twins are a lot,” Tina said, her lips pulling thin.

They walked through a spotless foyer that smelled faintly of lemon polish. The walls rose high, hung with frames of frozen happiness.

Grace slowed as her eyes caught pictures. A tall man in a charcoal suit beside a woman with laughing eyes.

Two babies in her arms, wedding smiles, holiday beaches, and christening gowns. Then no more pictures, just bare wall as if someone had pressed stop.

The silence spoke louder than Tina’s heels. At the far end of the living room, a tall man stood by a glass window.

He didn’t turn as they entered. His suit was sharp, his posture straighter than the gate bars outside.

“Mr. Adrien,” Tina said, “this is the nanny.”

He turned then, slow and deliberate. His face was strong, but his eyes were darker than she expected, tired and guarded.

“You’re Grace Williams,” he said, not a question.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve worked with children?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My children are difficult.” His voice carried no softness, only verdict.

“We’ve had challenges with nannies. I expect competence, not chaos.”

Grace met his gaze steady.

“I understand, sir.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, as though he were testing her calmness. Then he looked away.

“Their names are Isabella and Gabriella, Bella and Gabby. They are two years old. They were close to their mother.”

His throat caught, but his voice corrected itself, clipped.

“She’s gone. Since then, they don’t trust anyone.”

Grace lowered her voice.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He nodded once, cutting off more words.

“Schedule is strict. They eat at 8:00, 12:00, 4:00, and 7:00. Nap at 10:00 and 2:00 when they allow it. Keep them safe. Do not disturb me unless necessary.”

From upstairs came the sudden wail of two tiny voices, sharp as sirens climbing higher together.

“They’re awake,” Adrien said, his jaw tightened.

“Let’s see if you meant what you said. Nursery is on the second floor. Madame Tina will show you. If you fail, you leave immediately.”

Grace nodded.

“I won’t fail.”

Tina’s eyes narrowed as she led Grace to the staircase.

“You people always say that,” she muttered.