Babysitting the Billionaire’s Kids

Archie's POV The luxury leather chair in my office usually brought me a sense of order. Today, it felt like an island in the middle of a storm. I rubbed my temples, staring at the woman standing across my desk. Her hair was standing up on end, covered in what looked like a sticky mixture of blue slime and flour. Her eyes were red, and her expensive purse was dripping with soggy cereal milk. "I quit, Mr. Samuel," Mrs. Gable choked out, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and absolute horror. "I am an experienced nanny. I have raised children for high-society families for over fifteen years. But those... those little monsters are not children. They are calculated demons!" "Mrs. Gable, please," I said, trying to keep my voice smooth and calm. "I am deeply sorry. I will cover your dry-cleaning bills. I will triple your bonus for this week. Just please, stay until Friday." "Not for a million dollars!" she shrieked, slamming her resignation letter onto the polished wood. "They wired the living room ceiling to drop bucket after bucket of glue! Then they released three live frogs into my handbag! I am done!" She turned on her heel and marched out of the office, slamming the heavy oak door behind her so hard the glass frames on my wall rattled. I collapsed back into my chair and closed my eyes. Twelve. That was twelve babysitters in six months. A new record, even for my household. I stood up, walked out of my home office, and headed straight down the hallway toward the twins' playroom. The mansion was massive, built with white marble and grand glass walls, but right now, it felt like a chaotic battleground. I pushed the playroom door open. My seven-year-old twin boys, Leo and Toby, were sitting comfortably on the rug. They looked like little angels. They had the same sandy-brown hair as mine and bright blue eyes. But behind those bright eyes was pure, unadulterated mischief. "Leo. Toby," I said, my voice dropping into a stern tone. They both looked up, displaying identical wide-eyed innocent expressions. "Yes, Daddy?" Leo asked, holding a toy car. "Care to explain why Mrs. Gable just left the house looking like a birthday cake gone wrong?" Toby shrugged, his small shoulders bouncing. "It was an experiment, Daddy. We were testing gravity and friction. Mrs. Gable just walked into the target zone." "It wasn't an experiment, Toby! It was a trap!" I snapped, pacing across the room. I crossed my arms and looked down at them. "Do you have any idea how hard I work? I run a global tech enterprise. I have meetings with investors every single hour. I cannot spend my days hiring new people because you two decide to declare war on every adult I put in charge!" Leo rolled his eyes slightly and began driving his toy car across the rug. "You're never home anyway," he muttered softly. The words hit me right in the chest, sharp and heavy. I paused, looking down at my sons. It was true that I worked long hours. Ever since their mother passed away three years ago, I threw myself into work to provide everything they could ever need. But in doing so, I knew I spent more time in boardrooms than in their bedrooms. Still, I couldn't let them run the house. "That is no excuse for your behavior," I said, keeping my tone firm to hide the sting of Leo's words. "You need supervision. You need order. And I will find someone who will bring it, whether you like it or not." Neither of them looked scared. They had heard this speech eleven times before. They just went back to playing with their cars, completely unbothered. Archie's POV I walked down the grand staircase into the main foyer, where my personal assistant, Clara, was frantically typing on her tablet. "Tell me you have good news, Clara," I said, stepping onto the polished floor. Clara gave me a sympathetic, stressed look. "Mr. Samuel, I've called five different elite domestic agencies. The moment I give them our address, they politely decline. Word has spread. The Samuel twins are officially blacklisted by every professional nanny service in the city." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "That's ridiculous. They are seven years old! They aren't criminal masterminds." "They set off the fire sprinklers last month just to see if the maid could swim," Clara reminded me gently. "Finding someone on short notice is practically impossible right now. Anyone with a high-end resume knows to stay away." "I don't care about a fancy resume anymore," I said, frustration boiling over. "I don't need another gentle, soft-spoken nanny who breaks down at the first sign of a prank. I need someone strict. Someone patient. Someone impossible to scare away. I need someone built like a brick wall who won't blink when a frog jumps out of a bag." Clara looked down at her tablet, tapping the screen rapidly. "Well... there is one applicant who just responded to our emergency independent listing. He doesn't come from a traditional nanny agency, but his references are solid, and he was available immediately." "Send him in," I demanded. "I don't care who he is. If he has a pulse and a backbone, I'll hire him today." Just as I finished speaking, the heavy front doors of the mansion swung open. A tall man walked in. He looked to be in his late twenties, carrying a simple dark duffel bag over one shoulder. He wore a plain black jacket, fitted dark jeans, and sturdy boots. He didn't look like any nanny I had ever hired. He had broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and calm, confident eyes that swept over the marble entrance without a single trace of being intimidated by the wealth around him. He walked right up to where Clara and I were standing, stopped, and extended a firm hand. "Mr. Samuel?" the man asked. His voice was deep, steady, and entirely calm. "I'm Lincoln Greyson. I'm here about the job." Lincoln's POV The Samuel mansion looked less like a home and more like a high-end museum. Marble floors, tall glass windows, and expensive art pieces hung on every wall. It was the kind of place where people walked on eggshells because they were afraid of breaking something expensive. I didn't care about the art or the marble. I just needed the job. Standing in front of me was Archie Samuel. He looked exactly like he did in the news articles: tailored designer suit, sharp dark hair, and an air of authority. But up close, I could see the dark circles under his eyes. He looked completely exhausted. He gripped my hand firmly, eyeing me up and down with an intense, questioning stare. "Mr. Greyson," Archie said, his tone sharp and businesslike. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. As my assistant likely mentioned, this position needs to be filled immediately." "I'm ready to start today if you need me to," I replied evenly. Archie raised an eyebrow. "You sound very confident. Do you even know what you're stepping into? I won't lie to you to make the job sound easy. My sons have run off twelve babysitters in six months. The last one left twenty minutes ago covered in glue and flour." I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. "Sounds like a normal Tuesday." Archie blinked, surprised by my reaction. "This isn't a joke, Mr. Greyson. They are clever, resourceful, and extremely mischievous. They test boundaries until people break." "I used to help raise my younger brothers while balancing two jobs," I said, keeping my voice steady and honest. "I've dealt with spilled paint, ruined carpets, hidden snakes, and temper tantrums. Kids test boundaries because they want to see where the wall is. If you don't stand firm, they keep pushing." Archie went quiet for a moment, analyzing every word I said. I could see the gears turning in his head. He was a man used to controlling everything in his business, but right now, he was entirely out of his element with his own kids. "They need structure," Archie admitted, his voice softening just a fraction. "And I need to know that I won't get a panicked phone call in the middle of a board meeting saying my house is on fire." "You won't get that call from me," I promised. "I don't scare easily, Mr. Samuel. And I don't give up on kids just because they're a little loud or creative." Archie stared at me for a long moment. A quiet silence settled over the grand entrance of the mansion. Finally, the tension in his shoulders dropped slightly. "Alright," Archie said, letting out a heavy breath. "Let's see how you do. The interview isn't over until you actually meet them." He turned around and pointed toward the grand staircase. "They're upstairs in the playroom. Good luck, Lincoln." I nodded, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. I turned and began walking up the wide marble stairs. I knew the boys were probably up there right now, plotting their next big prank for whoever walked through the door next. I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of amusement and determination. They thought they had seen it all with twelve babysitters. They had no idea what was coming.