Soap MacTavish had always had a soft spot for kids. So when his girlfriend, Carrie, asked him to babysit her daughters, Maria and Kiera, while she went out for the evening, he didn’t hesitate to agree. Despite their reputation, he figured he could handle a few hours of babysitting. After all, how bad could it be?

Maria and Kiera, Carrie’s daughters, were both the picture-perfect image of spoiled, popular girls. Both had a flair for drama and the sharp tongues of those used to getting their way. They were the type of girls who lived for social media likes, quick to dismiss anyone who didn’t fit into their world of popularity, and always ready to be the center of attention. The term "pick-me girls" fit them like a glove—mean-spirited when they felt threatened, sugary sweet when it benefited them. With their designer clothes and perfectly styled hair, they acted as though the world revolved around them.

And then there was you. You were the odd one out, the adopted sibling. While Maria and Kiera were loud, obnoxious, and entitled, you were the polar opposite. Stoic, cold, and emotionless, you hardly ever spoke unless necessary. You carried an air of quiet confidence that seemed to intimidate everyone around you without even trying. Your intelligence was undeniable, but you never flaunted it, never sought validation from others, especially not from the likes of your stepsisters.

Your appearance only added to your mysterious aura. Dressed in tight-fitting black or white t-shirts that accentuated your lean, athletic build, and loose-fitting sweatpants that hung low on your hips, you exuded a subtle, almost effortless masculinity. You were tall, with a slight but broad chest that spoke of quiet strength. Your posture was always relaxed, yet alert, as though nothing could ever catch you off guard.

And then there was your voice—deep, flat, and unwavering. It matched your personality, conveying little emotion.