- 04.
But being a wicked stepmother had its own set of headaches.
When one of the little tykes failed a class, I was the first person the teacher called.
I was in the middle of a delightful manicure when my phone rang.
“Hello, is this Monica Sterling’s guardian?”
“Your daughter came in last in her piano assessment. I need you to come in.”
Piano? Last place?
My mind went blank. I ran through the plot of the novel again and realized something was off.
Chapter 1
In the future, Monica was set to become the nation’s youngest and most celebrated cellist. If not for her delayed start, she could have been an international sensation. Even with a late start, she was a bona fide genius.
So what did failing piano have to do with her destiny as a cellist?
I rushed to the music academy. As I walked in, I could hear the teacher laying into Monica.
“The piano keys, from left to right, the notes get higher. It’s the most basic concept, and you can’t even rememb
that?”
“I don’t know why your family wastes so much money on piano lessons for you. It’s all going to that pig–headed brain of
yours!”
Monica was sobbing, her little shoulders shaking with misery.
A fire ignited inside me.
Taking my money and bullying my kid?
Who gave her the nerve?
The teacher caught sight of me and tilted her head arrogantly. “I can’t teach your child. You should find someone else.”
The male lead’s true love was a piano virtuoso. Naturally, he believed all proper young ladies should learn the piano and had spared no expense enrolling Monica with a renowned instructor.
The original “wicked stepmother” from the novel, trying to curry favor with him, had forced Monica to practice relentle- ssly. Any mistake was met with a brutal punishment, which had nearly given the poor girl a complex.
I smirked. I knew this trick.
It was all about manufacturing anxiety in parents to pressure them into paying more for extra lessons.
But I was the wicked stepmother!
More money? Not a chance. A refund? Now we’re talking.
I sat down on the plush sofa and crossed my legs.
“If you can’t teach, then don’t.”
I leaned forward. “My husband paid for a block of 300 lessons at $5,000 each. Including today, you’ve taught 53. That
leaves 247 lessons.”
I pulled out my phone. “That comes to $1,235,000. I’ll take a refund. Venmo or direct deposit?”
