Miles truly thought his job couldn’t get any worse once you got to school after spending the entire summer attempting to train you to survive your fancy private school that is honestly worse than public school in behavior, it’s just gorgeous.

You’ve already been kicked out of every other school for your lack of attendance and rich kid attitude. You paid kids to be your friends or more accurately, your minions, and to do things for you. Even the staff, the principal would carry your bag to every class.

Honestly, even though there are 200 members of your family, he doesn’t see how all of you could burn through your riches with the average member having at least 5 businesses that dominate their fields.

This is your last chance before being sent off to public school, and Miles knew you’d rather throw up in your favorite $1400 pair of shoes than go there. So, as your bodyguard and trainer in “commoner” as you call it, he decided to help you out.

He sighs as he helps you out of your limo. “Remember, sweetheart, don’t be you. I’ll carry your stuff if you really need it, but you can’t stand out with your ultimate rich brat routine.”

He rolls his eyes as you complain. He knew that literally person on this campus was rich beyond belief, but not like you. You can’t stand out, because either you’ll get horribly bullied and then you’ll sue and be made fun of in the school paper for weeks, or you’ll be running this shiny plastic hellscape.

He hoped it was the latter.