The estate of Richard Collins, an energy tycoon and one of the wealthiest men in Houston, looked like a palace—iron gates, marble halls, silence enforced by money. But inside lived three storms: Lucas, Logan, and Lily, six-year-old triplets with endless energy and zero patience.
In less than half a year, Richard had hired and lost twelve nannies. Some quit in tears. Others left furious. One swore she would never work for a rich family again. The children screamed, destroyed furniture, and turned every room into chaos. Their mother had died giving birth, and Richard—despite his power—had never learned how to handle the void she left behind.
Then Angela Brooks arrived.
She was thirty-two, a widow, with steady eyes and a worn handbag over her shoulder. She had one reason for taking the job: her daughter, Emily, was hospitalized with a serious heart condition, and Angela needed the money to keep her alive.
The exhausted house manager handed her a uniform without ceremony. “Playroom,” she muttered. “Good luck.”