Chapter 3: Meeting the Brat
Nathaniel barely had time to settle into the guest room before he found himself facing his first real challenge.
The next morning, he woke early, as was his habit, to the peaceful silence of the mansion. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft golden light across the marble floors. He dressed quickly in his usual, simple attire—a pair of dark jeans and a gray sweater—and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. The tasks ahead of him didn't feel any less daunting, but he was used to taking on difficult projects, and this was just another challenge to tackle.
What he wasn't prepared for, however, was Sophia's first morning tantrum.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he found Sophia already seated at the grand kitchen island, her face scrunched up in an expression of complete disdain. She had her phone in hand, scrolling through it with a bored look on her face.
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow as he observed her. "Good morning."
Sophia didn't even look up from her phone. "Don't speak to me unless you have coffee," she muttered under her breath.
Nathaniel took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. This was just the beginning. The sooner he got through today's challenges, the sooner things might start to improve.
"You didn't mention coffee last night. If you want it, you'll have to make it yourself." Nathaniel leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her closely.
Sophia looked at him then, her expression one of pure disgust. "I don't make my own coffee," she replied flatly. "That's what staff are for. And I don't remember asking you to make it for me."
Nathaniel was starting to feel the weight of the situation. "You're going to have to make your own coffee at some point," he said, trying his best to stay patient. "It's not that hard."
Sophia huffed, dramatically setting her phone down on the table. She swung her legs over the barstool, standing up as if she were preparing for a war. "Fine. But I expect it to be perfect. I'm not drinking that awful stuff you'll probably make."
"First lesson," Nathaniel said, raising an eyebrow. "In this house, we learn to do things ourselves. No one else is going to do it for you anymore. If you want coffee, you make it. If you want breakfast, you cook it."
Sophia's eyes narrowed, but she didn't protest further. She walked over to the coffee machine with exaggerated slowness and began to fumble with it, clearly unfamiliar with the contraption. After a few moments of awkwardness, she sighed loudly.
"This is ridiculous. Why can't someone else just do it for me?"
Nathaniel, though tempted to offer help, kept his distance. "Sophia, you're going to have to get used to doing things for yourself. That's part of what I'm here to teach you."
She gave him a sideways glance. "You mean to make my life miserable, right?"
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he waited as she struggled with the coffee machine. It took her a good fifteen minutes to figure it out, and when she finally poured herself a cup, she took a sip only to grimace.
"This is awful," she grumbled. "I hate it."
Nathaniel chuckled lightly. "You're going to have to practice. Cooking and making coffee aren't instant skills. It takes time and effort."
Sophia didn't seem impressed. She took another sip, making a face as she set the mug down. "This is ridiculous. I shouldn't have to do this. I could just call my mom to handle it."
Nathaniel shook his head. "Your mom isn't here, and that's exactly why I'm here—to teach you how to manage yourself. You can't rely on others forever, Sophia."
There was a moment of silence before she finally huffed, standing up and walking over to the kitchen table. "Fine. But I'm not doing this for the rest of my life. I'm rich, Nathaniel. I don't need to do anything."
Nathaniel kept his eyes on her, his voice firm. "It's not about being rich. It's about being capable. Everyone needs to know how to take care of themselves, whether they're rich or poor. If you don't learn now, you're going to regret it later."
Sophia crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, giving him an exasperated look. "How did you even get this job? Babysitting a spoiled brat who doesn't care about chores?"
Nathaniel let out a sigh, resisting the urge to get defensive. He had accepted this challenge for a reason. "I'm not here to judge you, Sophia. I'm here because I promised your mother I would help. You don't have to like it, but you do have to try."
Sophia didn't respond. Instead, she picked up her phone again, as if nothing had happened, and began scrolling through social media. The silence stretched on, and Nathaniel wondered how much of a challenge this would truly be.
---
After breakfast, Nathaniel handed Sophia a simple task—something he thought even she could manage.
"I need you to make the bed. It's not hard."
Sophia stared at the bed as if it were a mountain she had to scale. "This is stupid," she muttered. "I don't know why I have to do this."
Nathaniel didn't engage with her frustration. "Just do it. I'll show you once, and then you can do it by yourself."
He began to methodically show her how to pull the blanket up, fluff the pillows, and smooth out the wrinkles. At first, Sophia simply watched him, arms crossed, her lips set in a pout. But when he was done, he stepped back and gestured to the bed.
"Your turn," he said, watching her closely.
Sophia stared at the bed for a long moment. She was clearly not thrilled by the task. But finally, with a sigh, she moved toward it.
It wasn't perfect—far from it. The sheets were lopsided, and the pillows were askew—but it was something.
"Not bad for a first try," Nathaniel said. "You'll get better with practice."
Sophia, for the first time, seemed to relax. She glanced at the bed, then at him, and gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "This is stupid," she repeated, but there was less venom in her words.
Nathaniel nodded. "It'll get easier. Trust me."
---
For the rest of the day, Nathaniel kept the tasks simple but meaningful—laundry, organizing a small part of the house, and teaching her the basics of caring for herself. He wasn't expecting overnight miracles, but he could see the smallest changes in her—the subtle way she was starting to engage with him, even if reluctantly.
By the end of the day, Nathaniel had managed to get Sophia to cook a basic pasta dish. Though it was far from perfect, it was progress.
As she set the table, Sophia muttered, "I guess... I guess it's not so bad. It's not as awful as I thought."
Nathaniel couldn't help but smile. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"See? You're doing fine," he said.
Sophia looked at him, her expression softer than it had been that morning. For the first time, she seemed to acknowledge the effort he was putting in.
"I still don't know why you're doing this," she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.
Nathaniel met her gaze. "Because you deserve to know how to take care of yourself. And because your mom asked me to help you. I wouldn't have agreed to this if I didn't think it was worth it."
Sophia didn't respond, but there was something in her eyes—a flicker of understanding, maybe even gratitude.
It was only the beginning, but Nathaniel had the distinct feeling that these three weeks might just change everything.
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End of Chapter 3