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POV DARCIE The Sterling gate wasn’t just a gate; it was a physical punch to the gut. Black wrought iron, taller than two men, closing behind me like a trap. Like the final nail in the coffin of my old life. My dad had promised we’d work things out. He’d promised the house, my school, everything would be fine. Dad lied. My backpack felt heavier than usual, not just with books but with the weight of every broken promise. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to focus on the biting chill of the Aurelia evening instead of the tremor in my hands. New mission: survive the Sterlings. New reality: I was their charity case, Charles Sterling’s personal babysitter. His babysitter. The thought made bile rise in my throat. The path to the front door was paved with imported stone, flanked by perfect hedges that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. My sneakers scuffed against the pristine surface, leaving tiny, defiant marks. The house itself wasn't a house; it was a fortress of glass and steel, glinting under the setting sun like a monstrous diamond. It screamed "we own everything," and apparently, that now included me. I knocked. A sharp, almost aggressive rap. No answer. I waited, the silence pressing in on me, broken only by the distant hum of city traffic – a sound I suddenly missed with an ache in my chest. I knocked again, harder. Still nothing. Great. First day, and I was already stranded on the doorstep, feeling every ounce of my forced humility. Just as I was about to consider finding a hidden service entrance – because of course there'd be one – the door swung open. Not by Mrs. Sterling, the ice queen with blonde hair that defied gravity, but by him. Charles Sterling. He was leaning against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips that was sharper than any knife. His hair, golden and perfectly messy, fell over eyes the color of a stormy sea. He was wearing a dark blue varsity jacket with a gleaming 'S' on the chest, a white t-shirt stretched over a chest that looked like it could stop a truck, and ripped jeans. He looked like every single billboard model, every popular movie star, every reason why I hated St. Jude’s Academy. And now, he looked like my personal warden. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice a low rumble that always made the girls at school go weak at the knees. For me, it just made my hackles rise. "Look what the cat dragged in. Or rather, look what my dad bought. Right on time, Miller. Almost thought you’d try to make a run for it." My backpack slid a little, threatening to fall, but I clutched it tighter. "Unlike some people, Charles, I actually respect my obligations." My voice came out steadier than I expected, a small victory. He pushed off the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, blocking my path. His eyes raked over me, from my worn-out jeans to my faded hoodie. I felt naked under his gaze, even though I was fully clothed. He always had a way of making me feel like the dirt under his expensive sneakers. "Obligations, huh?" He chuckled, a humorless sound. "Or desperation? Don't pretend this is about respect, Darcie. This is about staying out of the Valley. About keeping a roof over that pretty little head of yours." My cheeks flushed. He hit too close to home. But I wouldn’t let him see it. "And this is about you not flunking out of senior year, Sterling. So, unless you want to lose your precious football scholarship, I suggest you let me in so I can start earning my keep." His smirk faltered for a second, replaced by a flash of something I couldn't quite decipher – annoyance? Surprise? It was gone before I could name it. He stepped aside, a dramatic sweep of his arm. "Be my guest, peasant. Just don't track mud on the marble. My mother has an allergic reaction to anything less than spotless." I walked past him, my shoulder brushing his. The contact sent a jolt through me, a strange mix of revulsion and something else I immediately tried to suppress. The house was even bigger on the inside. A grand staircase swept upwards, chandeliers sparkled like captured stars, and silence—a heavy, expensive silence—pervaded everything. It was the kind of silence that whispered secrets, the kind that made you feel small and insignificant. "Don't get used to this," Charles said from behind me, his voice cutting through the quiet. "You're not a guest, Miller. You're an accessory. My father's latest attempt to control me. And believe me, I'm going to make you regret signing that paper." I turned, meeting his stormy gaze. My heart was pounding, but I forced myself to stand tall. "We'll see who regrets what, Charles. I'm not afraid of you." He took a step closer, invading my personal space. His eyes bored into mine, searching for a crack, a sign of weakness. "Oh, you will be," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "Trust me. By the time this year is over, you'll be begging to go back to whatever hole you crawled out of." I didn't flinch. "Bring it on, Sterling. I'm a survivor. You're just a spoiled rich kid playing king in his castle." And with that, I pushed past him, determined to find my own damn way in this gilded cage. This was going to be a long, brutal year. But if Charles Sterling thought he could break me, he had another thing coming. I had faced worse than a pretty boy with a nasty streak. I just hadn’t faced him living under the same roof. Yet.Breaking PointPOV DARCIEThe Senatorial dinner was a slow-motion car crash.I stood in the corner of the dining hall, dressed in a black skirt and a white blouse that felt like a costume. My job was to be invisible until a glass needed refilling or a plate needed clearing. It was dehumanizing, but I kept my eyes on the floor, counting the patterns in the rug. Anything to stay out of Mr. Sterling’s line of sight.Charles looked like a ghost. He was sitting next to the Senator’s daughter, a girl named Genevieve who spent the entire meal laughing at jokes that weren't funny. Charles was doing his part—nodding, smiling that fake, golden smile—but his eyes were dead. He hadn't gone to practice. His father had intercepted him at the front door and "convinced" him otherwise. The bruise on Charles's jaw, hidden poorly with concealer, told me exactly how that conversation had gone."Darcie, the wine," Mrs. Sterling hissed, snapping her fingers.I moved forward, my hands shaking slightly. As
Art of Faking ItPOV DARCIEThe sun was too bright the next morning. It bounced off the white marble of the Sterling breakfast nook, making my head ache. I kept my eyes on my cereal, listening to the clinking of silverware and the low murmur of the morning news on the wall-mounted TV.Charles sat across from me. He looked perfectly put together in his blue and gold jersey, his hair styled just right, not a single hair out of place. You’d never know that six hours ago, he was a wreck on the floor surrounded by broken glass. He didn't look at me once. He was back to being the King, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression."Charles, make sure you're home by seven tonight," his father said, not looking up from his Wall Street Journal. Mr. Sterling was a man who radiated power like a heater radiates heat—constant and suffocating. "The Senator is coming over for dinner. I expect you to be sharp."Charles’s grip tightened on his phone just for a second. "I have practice, Dad. The
Sound of Glass BreakingPOV DARCIEThe Sterling mansion at night was a different kind of monster. During the day, it was cold and grand; at night, it felt like a museum where the statues were watching you. I sat on my narrow bed, the one that used to be a closet, and stared at the door. No lock. Charles’s words from earlier—no secrets in this house—echoed in the dark.It was 11:30 PM. My stomach was cramping because I’d skipped dinner to avoid another "charity" lecture from his mother. I had my history textbook open, but the words were blurring. I kept listening for footsteps.Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the wall.It came from Charles’s room. It sounded like a heavy lamp or a bottle hitting the floor. Then, a low, muffled shout. It wasn’t a "party" shout; it sounded like pain. Or rage.I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs. Part of me said: Stay here. Not your problem. Let the jerk deal with his own mess. But another part—the part that remembered the look in his eyes i
Price of a SignaturePOV DARCIEI didn’t sleep. Every time the house groaned or a car passed by the tall iron gates outside, my eyes snapped open, darting toward the door that no longer had a lock. It was a psychological game, and I was already losing.At 6:00 AM, my alarm went off, but I was already sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection in the dusty mirror. I looked like a ghost of the girl I used to be. I threw on my best pair of jeans—the ones without too many holes—and a cream-colored top that felt like the only clean thing I had left. I tied my hair back in a tight ponytail, a soldier preparing for the trenches.When I stepped into the kitchen, the smell of expensive coffee and fried bacon hit me like a slap. Mrs. Sterling was there, looking flawless in a silk robe, tapping away at her tablet. She didn't even look up."Your breakfast is on the counter, Darcie. Charles is waiting in the garage. Don't be late for the first bell. It reflects poorly on us.""Good
New AccessoryPOV DARCIEThe Sterling gate wasn’t just a gate; it was a physical punch to the gut. Black wrought iron, taller than two men, closing behind me like a trap. Like the final nail in the coffin of my old life. My dad had promised we’d work things out. He’d promised the house, my school, everything would be fine. Dad lied.My backpack felt heavier than usual, not just with books but with the weight of every broken promise. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to focus on the biting chill of the Aurelia evening instead of the tremor in my hands. New mission: survive the Sterlings. New reality: I was their charity case, Charles Sterling’s personal babysitter. His babysitter. The thought made bile rise in my throat.The path to the front door was paved with imported stone, flanked by perfect hedges that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. My sneakers scuffed against the pristine surface, leaving tiny, defiant marks. The house itself wasn't a house; it was a fortress of







