Dear Dad, Do You Know That Stepmother Is A Devil?

This time, Tanya had both gotten a beating and lost blood. She had lost both the battle and the war.

Furious, she turned off her phone and stormed out of the house.

I gave my dad a sympathetic shoulder rub and said softly.

“Mom’s getting more and more unreasonable.”

“You work so hard to make her happy, and she still gets mad at you! I’m different. I just want to take care of you!”

I winked at the empty spot where Mom’s ghost used to be.

“Dad, you should take some time to relax. How about checking out an art exhibit?”

I gently massaged his temples.

“When I grow up, I’ll take you to see art exhibits all over the world, just like you support all my hobbies without question!”

“You’re the best, Dad! Unlike Grandma, who always makes you do things her way!”

My dad suddenly froze, his gaze drifting through the floor-to-ceiling windows as if he were seeing that grassy field from over a decade ago.

As a child, he was forced to learn piano, and as he grew up, he was pushed into finance.

But his real passion was painting.

Mom used to sit by the lake reading, sometimes smiling, sometimes frowning, and she became the vibrant subject of Dad’s paintings.

Tanya had thrown away Mom’s belongings and photos, but she’d missed Dad’s sketchbooks.

Those drawings were tucked away in a dusty little attic.

When Mom discovered them, she proudly claimed they were proof of Dad’s undying love.

Ugh, posthumous affection is about as genuine as an unexpected stomach bug!

Dad gently patted my hand and sighed deeply.

“Maybe it’s time to go see them.”

He took the bait!

I couldn’t help but let a small smile creep across my lips.

Suddenly, Tanya’s syrupy voice wafted in from the doorway.

“Simon, I’m back!”

And right behind her was my fabulously wealthy grandmother.

I could see the satisfaction flicker in Grandma’s eyes as my smile froze.

That old bitch was always up to something.

As a kid, she’d tempt me to mess with the bed frame or touch live electrical outlets.

She’d even toss toys into the bathtub and dare me to fish them out.

My ghost mom would freak out, making the whole scene way more dramatic and entertaining.

I’d quickly steer clear of those dangers, which probably saved me from an accident.

Tanya, however, wasn’t so lucky. She couldn’t get pregnant.

Her illness was prone to flare-up, and I became the only potential donor.

Now, Grandma was putting on her sweetest face, feeding me all sorts of nutritious foods while telling me about Tanya’s difficult childbirth.

“Your mom nearly died giving birth to you. You have to repay her when you grow up, okay?”

My ghost mom hovered around, frantic and exasperated:

“She’s an old fraud! Don’t believe her!”

Ignoring my ghost mom, I turned to Grandma with wide-eyed innocence and said, “I understand!”

Grandma seemed to think she’d won me over and took off on her travels again.

But now she’s back with Tanya.

What new tricks are they planning?