Kiara Carrera woke up to the faint sound of scurrying. She bolted upright in her makeshift basement bedroom, the dim light of the small, high window doing little to brighten the cold, dark space. She squinted into the corner and groaned as she spotted a mouse darting under a dusty stack of old boxes.

"This is my life now," she muttered. "Mice roommates and zero sunlight. Thanks, Frank."

Throwing the thin blanket off, Kiara climbed out of the creaky bed, her feet hitting the chilly floor. She dragged herself upstairs to the kitchen, her stomach growling with the promise of breakfast. To her mild surprise, there was food already laid out on the table: scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a stack of pancakes that looked like they belonged in a food commercial.

"Finally, something decent," Kiara said to herself, reaching for a plate.

But just as she grabbed a fork, Frank Andrews appeared from nowhere like a looming shadow. "Not so fast."

Kiara froze, her fork mid-air. "What? I'm starving."

Frank crossed his arms. "Chores first. Then breakfast."

Kiara blinked, incredulous. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope," Frank replied curtly, his expression stone cold.

"Why?" she demanded, setting the fork down with a loud clink.

"Because chores come first in this house," Frank said firmly.

Kiara narrowed her eyes. "Chores first? I've never heard of anyone skipping breakfast to mop floors. What kind of logic is that?"

Frank smirked. "It's Andrews household logic."

Kiara leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard. You're just making this up as you go."

Frank's face twitched with irritation. "You can believe whatever you want, but the rule is the rule."

"Oh, I get it," Kiara said with mock realization. "You just like playing dictator. No breakfast until I serve the glorious leader."

Frank's nostrils flared. "Watch it, kid."

Kiara refused to back down. "I have rights, you know. Eating breakfast is a basic human need. Ever heard of it? I've always eaten breakfast. It's literally called the most important meal of the day."

"Well, not here," Frank shot back, pointing toward the mop. "In this house, chores come first."

Kiara's jaw dropped. "Wow. You know who you sound like? Ward Cameron. Outer Banks villain vibes, Frank."

Frank frowned. "Ward who?"

Kiara rolled her eyes. "Ward Cameron. My bestie Sarah Cameron's psycho dad. Lies, manipulation, power trips—sound familiar?"

Frank's face darkened. "I don't know who this Ward guy is, but you better drop the attitude and get to work."

"Fine," Kiara snapped, grabbing the mop. "Enjoy your garage or wherever you're going."

Frank pointed a warning finger at her before storming out of the kitchen toward the garage.

Kiara sighed heavily, muttering to herself. "Unbelievable. Starving a teenager should be illegal."

Moments later, Archie strolled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he had just rolled out of bed. "Morning," he said, grabbing a plate and piling on some bacon.

Kiara stared at him, mop in hand. "Must be nice. Breakfast without interrogation."

Archie looked at her, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Frank," Kiara said bitterly. "He's on some power trip, making me do chores before I can eat."

Archie took a bite of bacon and leaned against the counter. "Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Frank."

Kiara set the mop down and leaned on it. "How do you deal with it? He's impossible."

Archie chuckled softly. "You kind of have to pick your battles with him. He's strict, but he means well."

Kiara gave him a skeptical look. "Means well? He's basically running a boot camp. I'm one chore away from scrubbing the driveway with a toothbrush."

Archie laughed, but his tone softened. "I get it, Kiara. Trust me. When my dad was alive, he had his own way of teaching me responsibility. Frank's trying to do the same for you in his own... blunt way."

Kiara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don't need a lecture on responsibility. I need food. I'm starving."

Archie tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "If Frank's in the garage, he won't notice if you eat something. Want me to fix you a plate?"

Her eyes lit up. "Seriously? Yes, please."

Archie quickly grabbed a plate, piled it high with eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and handed it to her. "Eat fast, though. If he catches you, we're both in trouble."

Kiara grinned, taking a big bite of pancake. "You're officially my favorite person in this house."

Archie sat down across from her, his tone growing more serious. "But Kiara, you've got to figure out a way to work with Frank. He's stubborn, but he's not a bad guy."

Kiara swallowed a bite of eggs, frowning. "It's not that simple. He treats me like some chore robot. I feel like I can't breathe around him."

Archie nodded. "I get that. But if you show him you're willing to meet him halfway, he might ease up. Just try to do a couple of things his way and see what happens."

Kiara hesitated. "You think that'll work?"

"It's worth a shot," Archie said. "And if it doesn't, I've got your back."

Kiara smiled faintly. "Thanks, Archie."

After she finished her breakfast, Archie stood and grabbed the mop. "I'll take care of the kitchen for you. Go take a breather before Frank gets back."

Kiara blinked at him, surprised. "You're seriously the nicest person here."

"Don't tell Frank," Archie joked. "It might ruin my reputation."

Kiara laughed softly as she headed toward the living room, feeling slightly less like a prisoner. Maybe, just maybe, Archie's advice would help her survive the Andrews household. But deep down, she knew that the battle with Frank was far from over.