Chapter 2

Snacks were every kid's weakness.

Austin protested, "This is abuse. I'm telling Dad."

I thought, 'Oh, really? That's exactly what this girl wants—abuse. Go ahead and tell him. The louder, the better.'

It was my third day as the evil stepmom.

Austin, refusing to give in, made eighteen calls to his dad that day.

But his dad didn't bother to pick up.

His dad was probably off abroad, bumping into his old flame, getting all lovey-dovey, way too busy for the son born out of a marriage of convenience.

Austin still wouldn't give up. He called up his grandpa for backup.

His grandpa wasn't that cold-hearted—he sent someone over to put me in my place.

He just tossed me a black card like it was nothing, telling me that if the cash meant anything to me, I should go easy on his precious grandson.

I thought, 'Your girl is really in a bind now. On one side, I get to stay eighteen forever; on the other, I get unlimited spending power.

'Oh, fuck! Money talks. Guess I'll cut Austin some slack.'

I personally whipped up a healthy feast for him.

Tomatoes, lettuce, and ice plant—nothing but greens.

Then, I drenched it all in my killer salad dressing, making it look, smell, and taste like a five-star meal.

Austin stared at the mountain of rabbit food on the table, totally in disbelief.

He was fuming inside, but kept his mouth shut.

I glanced at the adorable little girl next to me and, feeling generous, made a decision. "From today on, we're having a food contest. Whoever finishes this plate of rabbit food first gets a serving of chicken breast as a reward."

As soon as I said that, the two kids immediately buried their heads and started scarfing down the greens like their lives depended on it.

'Being an evil stepmom is the best,' I sneered inwardly.

But even being an evil stepmom came with its own set of headaches.

When Sabrina bombed her piano class, guess who the teacher called first? Me.

I was just chilling, getting my nails done, feeling all fancy when then the school called, "Hello, is this Sabrina's parent?

"Your kid came in last place in piano class. Could you come in for a chat?"

'Last place in piano?' I thought, totally stunned.

I had to run the whole story through my head a few times before I realized something was seriously off.

In the future, Sabrina would become Florialand's youngest cellist. If she hadn't wasted so much time when she was little, she might've made it big on the world stage.

Even though she started late, she was already an absolute prodigy.

'Why does failing piano matter for a cellist like her?' I wondered, feeling more confused by the minute.

I rushed to the school, and the moment I stepped inside, I heard the teacher laying into Sabrina.

"The notes on the piano get higher as you go from left to right. You seriously can't remember even the basics?

"No idea why your folks are throwing so much cash at piano lessons for you. It's all wasted on a blockhead!"

Sabrina was sniffling, crying her eyes out, looking totally miserable.

I instantly saw red, thinking, 'He takes my cash and then treats my kid like this? Who gave her the guts?'

The teacher looked at me with obvious contempt.

She lifted her chin with a sneer. "Sorry, your kid's beyond my help. You'd better go find a real expert."

Turned out, the male lead's old flame was a piano genius, playing like a virtuoso. So he just assumed every girl should play piano, too.

He splurged on a celebrity piano teacher for Sabrina, no matter the cost.

The original evil stepmom, desperate to win his favor, forced Sabrina to practice day and night.

Every time she messed up, she'd get a beating.

All that pressure left the little girl with serious emotional scars.

I scoffed twice, thinking, 'Please, I've seen this scam a million times.

'It's just the usual trick. Make the parents panic, then squeeze more money out of them for extra lessons.

'Come on, I'm the evil stepmom here.

'Not a chance I'm shelling out more. If anything, he owes me a refund.'

I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs. "If you can't teach her, then just quit.

"My husband paid for 300 lessons, 2000 dollars each. You've only done 53 so far, so there are still 247 to go.

"That's 410 thousand dollars. So, are you refunding me by transfer or cash?"