PUCKS AND RUNWAYS: BABYSITTING THE ICE CAPTAIN

“Princess! Where is my blue dress?”

“Princess! Did you iron my shirt?”

“Princess, go to the kitchen right now and fix us a snack! We are starving!”

I closed my eyes tightly, holding a stack of heavy, freshly folded towels against my chest. I took a deep, steady breath, trying to calm the sudden pounding in my ears.

Three voices. Three completely spoiled, loud, and incredibly rude voices. The triplets were at it again, shouting from the top of the grand staircase like I was their personal servant.

My adopted parents were super rich. Very, very rich. They lived in a massive, sprawling mansion with a huge gated garden, beautiful luxury cars parked in the driveway, and crystal chandeliers hanging from every ceiling. But inside this beautiful house, I was practically invisible. Or worse, I was just the free house help.

They had adopted me eighteen years ago from a small, quiet orphanage. Back then, they were completely childless and desperate.

They thought they could never have kids. But the moment they brought me home, their luck suddenly changed.

It was like I changed their entire fate. Just a few months later, my adopted mother unexpectedly got pregnant. She gave birth to triplets—two girls and a boy.

I was exactly two years older than them. And from the moment they were born, my parents had absolutely no time for me.

They didn't send me back to the orphanage because they cared too much about their public image, but they completely stopped loving me.

They mistreated me, belittled me, and made me do the nastiest chores in the house. They never took me to their fancy parties. They never showed me off to their rich friends.

They only showcased the triplets, treating them like royalty while I was kept in the shadows.

“I am coming!” I called out, wiping a stray piece of hair from my forehead.

I rushed up the grand marble stairs, my arms aching from the heavy laundry basket. I am twenty years old now. I am in college, and despite everything, I am the top of my class.

I am on a strict scholarship program because my adopted father flat-out refused to pay a single cent for my education. To maintain that scholarship, I have to keep my grades perfect and participate in all kinds of difficult extracurricular activities, all while running endless errands for this family.

Chloe, one of the triplets, glared down at me from her bedroom door, her arms crossed over her chest. “You took too long. I need my dress right now. My friends are waiting.”

“It is right here, Chloe,” I said gently, handing the blue dress to her. “I made sure it was freshly pressed.”

She snatched it out of my hands without saying thank you, spinning around and slamming the door right in my face. The loud bang made me flinch.

I sighed, turning around to walk down the long, carpeted hallway. I was used to it. I had been dealing with this treatment for as long as I could remember. But it didn't break my spirit. In fact, it only made me want to fight harder to get away.

I had a dream. A big, beautiful dream. I wanted to walk the runway as a supermodel. I wanted to wear gorgeous, flowing designer dresses, audition for the best fashion lines in the world, and become a famous fashion and TV star.

I wanted the whole world to see me, not as the hidden, neglected adopted girl, but as someone who shined.

But to start my real life in college and finally move out of this toxic house, I needed money. The university dormitory fee was $600 a month. To my rich parents, that was pocket change. To me, it felt like a million dollars.

As I walked down the stairs to fetch the broom for the kitchen, my phone buzzed violently in my apron pocket. I pulled it out quickly, keeping a sharp eye on the hallway to make sure my adopted mother wasn't watching me. It was an official alert from the campus student board job search team.

I tapped the screen, and my eyes went wide.

“Wow,” I whispered, my heart skipping a hard beat in my chest.

It was a digital flyer, glowing brightly on my phone screen.

«URGENT: HIGH-PAYING BABYSITTING GIG WANTED

Looking for a strict, highly organized student to manage a high-profile schedule.

Must follow strict rules perfectly. Absolute privacy required.

Fee: $3,000 a month.»

“$3,000 a month?” I gasped softly, clutching the phone tightly.

That was huge! It was an unbelievable amount of money. If I could just get this job, I could pay the $600 dorm fee easily, pack my bags, and finally move out of this house forever. I would never have to clean up after the triplets or listen to their insults again.

But as I scrolled down the flyer, my excited smile began to fade. The job requirements were incredibly intense. The rules were strict. No late hours. Perfect meal prep. Absolute dedication. Total management of daily routines.

“Princess!” my adopted mother’s sharp voice suddenly shouted from the downstairs kitchen, breaking my thoughts. “Why are you standing on the stairs doing nothing? The kitchen floor needs to be swept immediately! Move your feet!”

“Coming, Mother!” I called back, quickly hiding my phone in my pocket.

I looked down at the floor for a second, a sudden spark of fierce determination lighting up inside my chest. This job was going to require a lot of work. It was going to be exhausting to balance it with my heavy college classes, my scholarship duties, and my modeling club practice. But I didn't care. I had to try. I had to audition for it. If I got it, I would negotiate whatever I needed to.

I gripped the railing of the stairs, my mind completely made up.

“I am getting out of here,” I whispered to myself, a small, confident smile finally touching my lips. “I am going to get this job, no matter what.”