The Blind Maid Is My Secret Assistant

Miguel Anguer had fired three servants in seven days. By Friday morning, the entire household staff had developed a new survival strategy. Avoid Mr. Anguer. If avoiding him was impossible, do not speak unless spoken to. And if he looked angry—which, unfortunately, was most of the time—pray that someone else had made the mistake. The enormous Anguer mansion had never been particularly warm, but after Miguel returned from his business trip, it had become colder than the marble floors. At twenty-nine, Miguel Anguer was already the youngest billionaire CEO in the country. He had inherited the Anguer Corporation from his grandfather and transformed it into an even larger empire. He was brilliant. Disciplined. Uncompromising. And, according to almost everyone who worked for him, completely terrifying. Miguel didn't care. People were paid to do their jobs correctly. If they couldn't, they were replaced. Simple. That morning, he sat alone at the long dining table, staring at his untouched breakfast while reading financial reports on his tablet. His household manager, Mr. Harris, stood several feet away. The older man had worked for the Anguer family for more than twenty years. He was one of the few people in the mansion who wasn't afraid of Miguel. Or, more accurately, he was very good at hiding his fear. "Sir," Harris said carefully. Miguel didn't look up. "What?" "The new maid has arrived." Miguel's finger stopped scrolling. "The what?" "The new maid." Miguel slowly raised his eyes. "I told you I don't need another maid." "You fired the last three." "I know." "That's why we hired another." Miguel stared at him. Harris remained perfectly calm. Miguel leaned back in his chair. "What happened to the agency's promise that they would send someone competent?" "They did." "How do you know?" "She hasn't broken anything yet." Miguel’s eyebrow lifted. "Yet?" Harris cleared his throat. "She's waiting in the foyer." Miguel sighed. "Fine. Send her away." Harris blinked. "Sir?" "I don't need another employee." "Actually, sir, I believe you do." Miguel’s eyes narrowed. That was unusual. Harris rarely challenged him. "Why?" "Because she is the only applicant willing to accept the position after hearing about your previous employees." Miguel frowned. "What exactly did you tell her?" "The truth." "And she still accepted?" "Yes." Miguel almost laughed. Either the woman was extraordinarily brave or remarkably foolish. Probably both. "Send her in." Harris nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned toward the foyer. Miguel returned his attention to the tablet. He heard footsteps. Slow. Careful. Not the hurried steps of someone nervous. Not the confident stride of someone accustomed to luxury. There was something unusual about the footsteps. Miguel looked up. A young woman entered the dining room. She wore a simple navy maid's uniform with a white collar. Her dark hair was tied loosely behind her head, with several strands framing her face. She carried a small suitcase in one hand. But what caught Miguel’s attention wasn't her clothes. It was the dark glasses covering her eyes. She stopped a few feet away. "Good morning, Mr. Anguer." Her voice was soft. Pleasant. Calm. Miguel stared at her. Then he looked at Harris. Then back at the woman. "You hired a blind maid?" Harris stiffened. The woman, however, didn't react. "I believe that's what the agency arranged." Miguel stood. His chair scraped against the marble floor. "This mansion has three staircases, two balconies, a glass staircase, antique furniture, and enough expensive decorations to bankrupt a small country." Anya smiled faintly. "I noticed." Miguel’s expression hardened. "You noticed?" "Yes." "You're blind." "That's generally what the glasses suggest." Harris immediately looked at the ceiling. Miguel stared at her. Was she making fun of him? "You understand you won't be able to see where you're going." "I've managed so far." "This isn't a charity." "I didn't ask for charity." "Then why are you here?" Anya tilted her head slightly. "To work." Miguel crossed his arms. "You think you can handle this house?" "I think I can." "You haven't even seen it." "Technically, I haven't, but I'm not fully blind. I can at least perceive a little light and shadows in my right eyes. There was something about the way she answered that irritated him. She wasn't defensive. She wasn't intimidated. She simply stood there as though they were having an ordinary conversation. Miguel walked toward her. "You understand that if you break something, you'll be responsible." "Of course." "And if you damage anything valuable—" "I'll be careful." "And if you get injured—" "I'll handle it." Miguel stopped. "You seem very confident." "I've been told that's one of my worst qualities." For the first time that morning, Harris almost smiled. Miguel noticed. He was beginning to suspect everyone was enjoying this except him. "You have no idea what you're getting into," he said. Anya smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Anguer." She adjusted her grip on the suitcase. "I break fewer things than you do." Silence. Complete, horrifying silence. Harris's mouth twitched. Miguel stared at her. Nobody talked to him like that. Not his employees. Not his business partners. Not even his relatives. Especially not his relatives. Yet this blind maid had been inside his house for less than five minutes and had already insulted him. Miguel should have fired her immediately. Instead, he found himself strangely amused. "You're bold." "So I've been told." "That wasn't a compliment." "I know." Miguel narrowed his eyes. Anya's smile grew slightly wider. Something about her was infuriating. And intriguing. He couldn't decide which bothered him more. "Mr. Harris will show you your room." "Thank you." She turned. Miguel watched her take two steps. Then three. She walked directly toward the hallway. There was a small decorative table in her path. Miguel expected her to bump into it. She didn't. She stopped exactly one inch before it. Then she stepped around it. Miguel frowned. Interesting. She continued down the hallway. Harris followed. Miguel remained standing in the dining room. After several seconds, he called out. "Anya." She stopped. "Yes?" "How did you know that table was there?" She turned toward his voice. "I remembered where you told me it was." "I never told you." A pause. Anya smiled. "Then I suppose I'm naturally talented." Before Miguel could respond, she continued walking. Miguel stared after her. Something was wrong. Very wrong. But he couldn't put his finger on it. An hour later, Miguel discovered another problem. Coffee. More specifically, coffee that was supposed to be in his office. He had spent the last hour reviewing documents and preparing for a board meeting when someone knocked on his door. "Come in." The door opened. Anya entered carrying a tray. "Your coffee, Mr. Anguer." Miguel looked up. "Put it there." She approached his desk. Her movements were careful and surprisingly graceful. She placed the cup beside his laptop. Unfortunately, the edge of the tray caught the corner of a folder. The folder shifted. Anya reached for it. The tray tilted. The coffee flew. Directly onto Miguel’s white shirt. Silence. Anya froze. Miguel stared down at the brown stain spreading across his shirt. Then he slowly looked at her. She looked horrified. "I'm sorry." Miguel’s jaw tightened. "You've been here two hours." "I know." "Two hours." "Yes." "And you've already spilled coffee on me." "Technically, the folder caused the tray to move." Miguel stared. "Are you blaming the folder?" "No." "Because it sounds like you're blaming the folder." "I'm blaming physics." Miguel closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. Then another. Anya quietly handed him a napkin. "Here." He took it. "You can go." "Are you firing me?" Miguel looked at her. He should say yes. Instead, he said: "No." Anya nodded. "Good." She turned toward the door. Miguel watched her. Then she stopped. "Mr. Anguer?" "What?" "I really am sorry." Her voice had changed. The teasing disappeared. There was genuine concern in it. Miguel’s anger softened slightly. "Just be more careful." "I will." She smiled. And for some reason, that smile caught him completely off guard. It wasn't flirtatious. It wasn't calculated. It was simply warm. Genuine. Beautiful. Miguel suddenly became aware that he had been staring at her. Anya tilted her head. "Is something wrong?" "No." "You're very quiet." "I'm always quiet." "That's not what I've heard." Miguel almost smiled. Almost. "Go." "Yes, sir." She left. The door closed. Miguel looked down at his stained shirt. Then toward the door. Then back at his shirt. He couldn't understand why he wasn't angry anymore. He had fired a highly experienced executive for making a much smaller mistake. Yet somehow the blind maid had spilled coffee all over him and walked away with a smile. Miguel shook his head. Ridiculous. He returned to his documents. But five minutes later, he realized he hadn't read a single word. His thoughts kept returning to her. Anya Margo. The blind maid. Something about her was strange. Very strange. That evening, Miguel returned home late. The mansion was quiet. He walked through the hallway, loosening his tie. Then he heard something. A faint sound. Paper. He stopped. Someone was inside the study. Miguel quietly approached the half-open door. He expected to see Harris. Instead, he saw Anya. She stood beside the bookshelves. Alone. Her fingers moved along the edges of several folders. Miguel frowned. "What are you doing?" Anya immediately turned. "I was looking for the cleaning supplies." "In my study?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because someone spilled wine on the carpet." Miguel glanced down. There was indeed a small stain near the desk. He looked back at her. "You could have asked someone." "I didn't want to disturb anyone." Miguel watched her carefully. She seemed completely relaxed. But then he noticed something. The folder she had been touching wasn't a cleaning supply. It was one of his confidential business files. "What were you doing with that?" Anya's expression didn't change. "I was trying to find a cloth." Miguel walked toward her. "That's not a cloth." "I know." "You were touching my files." "I apologize." "Why?" "Because you asked me not to." Miguel stopped. He hadn't told her that. Not specifically. But perhaps Harris had. Still, something didn't feel right. Anya smiled. "I'll be more careful." She walked past him. Miguel turned. "Anya." She stopped. "Yes?" "How did you know where I was standing?" She hesitated for half a second. Then smiled. "I heard you." Miguel studied her. She was blind. But somehow, she always seemed to know exactly where everything was. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or suspicious. Perhaps both. Later that night, Anya sat alone in her small room. She removed her dark glasses. Her eyes were beautiful. And although she couldn't see clearly, there was still a faint glimmer of light beneath her lashes. She opened a hidden compartment beneath the floorboard. Inside was a small communication device. She pressed a button. A voice answered. "Are you inside the Anguer mansion?" "Yes." "Have you made contact with Mr. Miguel Anguer?" "Yes." "Does he suspect anything?" Anya smiled. "Not yet." "Good." She looked toward the window. "What's the next step?" "Find out who is leaking Anguer Corporation's confidential information." Anya's smile disappeared. "Understood." The voice continued. "And Anya?" "Yes?" "Be careful. Whoever is behind this is dangerous." Anya looked toward the mansion hallway. She thought of Miguel. His arrogance. His temper. His suspicious eyes. And, strangely, the tiny moment when he had looked at her smile. "I can handle it." "You'd better." The communication ended. Anya closed the device. She returned it to its hiding place. Then she put her dark glasses back on. Tomorrow, she would return to being Anya Margo. The blind maid. Quiet. Harmless. Invisible. Exactly the way she wanted it. But there was one problem. She had underestimated Mr. Miguel Anguer. And worse... She had begun to like him. Across the mansion, Miguel stood in his bedroom, staring at the city lights through his window. He should have been thinking about the board meeting tomorrow. Instead, he was thinking about Anya. The way she spoke. The way she walked. The way she seemed to know more than she should. And that smile. He couldn't explain why it stayed in his mind. He certainly couldn't explain why he wanted to see it again. Miguel frowned. "This is ridiculous." He picked up his phone. He considered calling Harris. Then he stopped. What would he say? Why is the new maid making me curious? Absurd. He put the phone down. Then picked it up again. He called Harris. The older man's sleepy voice answered. "Yes, sir?" "How long has Anya Margo been blind?" There was a brief silence. "Three years, sir." "How did it happen?" "An accident." "What kind?" "I don't know, sir." Miguel frowned. "You don't know?" "That's what the agency records say." Miguel looked toward the window. Something about Anya's story didn't add up. He could feel it. And Miguel Anguer trusted his instincts. He always had. But he didn't know that the mysterious maid downstairs was already investigating his family. He didn't know that someone inside his company was preparing to destroy him. And he certainly didn't know that the woman pretending she couldn't see was watching everything. Including him. Most importantly, Miguel didn't know that the strange feeling in his chest whenever Anya smiled wasn't suspicious. It was the beginning of something far more dangerous. Something he had spent his entire life avoiding. Love. And if Mr. Miguel Anguer had one weakness, he was about to discover that it had dark hair, a mischievous smile, and a talent for spilling coffee on expensive shirts. The blind maid had entered his mansion. But she was about to enter his heart. And neither of them was prepared for what would happen next.