Part 3The Wicked Stepmom's KPI

Day three of being a wicked stepmother.

The defiant Matt hadn't given up, calling his father eighteen times a day.

His father, of course, never answered.

If my calculations were correct, he was currently in France, having a fateful encounter with his one true love. He was far too busy with his whirlwind romance to bother with the son born from a loveless business marriage.

Undeterred, Matt called his maternal grandfather.

The old man had a softer heart. He sent someone to give me a gentle warning, along with a black card, asking me to go easy on his grandsons for the sake of the money.

(Holding the unlimited black card): Well, that puts me in a tight spot, doesn't it?

On one hand, eternal youth. On the other, an infinite line of credit.

Oh, fuck it.

For the money, I decided to be a little nicer to Matt.

I personally prepared him a gourmet "light" meal.

Tomatoes, lettuce, and crystalline ice plants.

Drizzled with a magnificent salad dressing, it was a feast for the eyes.

Matt stared at the plate of what looked like lawn clippings, his face a mask of silent rage.

I glanced at the soft, plump little girl beside him and had a moment of magnanimous inspiration.

"Starting today, we'll have a competitive eating contest. Whoever finishes their 'grass' first gets a reward: one piece of grilled chicken breast."

At my words, the two of them bowed their heads and began shoveling the greens into their mouths.

Heh, heh, heh...

Being a stepmom was a blast.