Chapter 4

Brooklyn's pov

"Time to feast."I heard Emerson say — cleats still on, grass-stained from soccer practice, heading straight for the kitchen like the fridge owed him something.

I stayed on the couch and waited.

The silence that followed was deeply satisfying.

"What the — " A pause. Then louder. "Why is the fridge locked?"

He came back into the living room and found me sitting with my legs crossed, the small key dangling from one finger. I smiled at him.

He stared.

I stood up, dropped the key into my pocket, and walked upstairs without saying a single word.

---

The second punishment came after his shower.

I heard him padding down the hall in his towel, still dripping, heading back to his room. Then he stopped. I heard nothing for a full three seconds.

"Where is my door?"

I was sitting inside his doorless room, toolkit beside me, the removed door leaning flat against the wall next to me.

Emerson stood in the open frame, wet hair, jaw dropped, staring between me and the empty hinges.

"You — " He pointed at me. Then at the door. Then back at me. "You took my door?"

I patted the toolkit. "Privacy is a privilege, not a right. Your father agreed."

He opened his mouth.

"You have five seconds to walk away before I take the wardrobe door too."

He walked away.

---

By evening I thought we'd reached a quiet truce. He was on the couch in the living room, controller in hand, completely absorbed in whatever match he was playing online. I could hear his teammates through the headset.

I walked in and turned the television off.

"Brooklyn. I was about to win. We had them cornered."

"Eight-thirty." I tucked the remote under my arm. "Screen time is done."

He looked at me with an expression that suggested he was genuinely reconsidering every decision that had led to this moment.

I went to bed feeling very good about my day.

---

The next morning was calm. Daisy and I were at the dining table, her workbook open between us, pencils out. She was doing better — only two corrections this time. I tapped the page and gave her a thumbs up. She beamed.

Footsteps on the stairs. Emerson appeared, hair still messy, school bag over one shoulder. He stopped when he saw us and then, instead of heading for the door, he walked toward me.

He stopped again. Exhaled. "Brooklyn. We need to talk."

"Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Daisy."

He glanced at his sister. Daisy looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Okay. Cool." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I was just going to say — the rumour. About you and the teacher." He paused, choosing his words. "I actually think — "

I was on my feet before he finished the sentence. My hand covered his mouth.

His eyes went wide.

"Not here," I said quietly.

I pulled him up by the arm and pushed him into the hallway, pulling the door halfway shut behind us.

"Five minutes." I crossed my arms. "Talk."

He blinked at me. "You're kind of terrifying. You know that?"

"You spent an entire school year making my life miserable. You don't get to be surprised that I have a backbone." I kept my voice low. "What were you going to say?"

"I just — " He ran a hand through his hair, which was the first time I'd ever seen him look anything close to uncertain. "After yesterday. The fridge, the door, the TV — " He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "That was not normal nanny behaviour."

"You told me to punish you. Those were your exact words."

"I was being sarcastic."

"I wasn't."

He stared at me. Then, slowly, he stepped forward. I held my ground as he put one hand against the wall beside me "Let's be honest," he said. "What I did to you in school all year — you thought that was bad?"

"It was bad."

"No." His voice dropped. "No, that was child's play compared to what you just put me through in twenty-four hours." A beat. "You're an evil genius."

"You created me," I said. "You told me to bring it on."

"I did." He nodded slowly. "I did say that." He dropped his hand from the wall and took a small step back. "Which is why I'm not here to fight."

I waited.

"I will never — and I mean never — accept you as my nanny," he said. "That is not changing. But I want to make a deal."