All Chapters of BABYSITTING MY BULLY: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

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

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

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