Raising Your Brat, Round Two

Eric panicked, slapped a hand over Luca's mouth. "Your mom was Meredith. Your mom NOW is Dakota—HER, got it?"

He leaned in, voice low. "Call her Mom."

Luca mumbled, "Mom."

I didn't press. Eric practically melted into the couch, like lying wore him out.

I yanked him back up. "Your parents are dead. We need to file their death certificates."

"Huh?"

I shot him a look. "Seriously? Move it. Before the office closes."

He threw out excuses the whole ride, but I dragged him to the clerk's office anyway.

I'll give him this—he pulled a coroner's statement from somewhere, and it passed.

At the counter, he stalled, wouldn't sign. After squirming forever, he finally asked, "Wait... if we file this, their pension stops, right?"

Even the clerk blinked. "Uh, yeah. Pensions only go to the living seniors."

I sneered inside.

Gregory and Meredith weren’t dead. Even fakers got to eat, no matter where they were hiding.

Last time, I was too caught up with Luca to think straight. Took me months to even consider filing death certs. Eric said he handled it—I believed him.

Yeah, right.

They just skipped town and kept collecting. Between the two of them, that was nearly $1K a month. Enough to rent a place in some quiet backwater without Eric lifting a finger.

Not this time. I shut it down.

On the way home, I froze the secondary card too.

That one had been for Gregory and Meredith—to make life comfy. Eric dipped into it sometimes, and I let it slide.

Last time, once they "died," the card landed right in Luca's lap.

His $300 sneakers, $500 console, $4K in tutoring? All on me. First-time mom mode—I spoiled him like crazy. If he'd asked for the moon, I would've found a rocket.

And how did he repay me? Spent my cash, painted me like some wicked stepmom.

Now those two bloodsuckers still wanna drain me? Please.

Eric can cover his precious crew on his $2K paycheck.

A month later, I caught him in bed trying to order a limited-edition bag.

Definitely not for me. I already owned it. And in all our years, he never even bought me flowers without whining about the price.

Valentine's Day was coming. Obviously for Tammy.

He punched in the password—card declined. "Honey, why's your card not working?"

I didn't even flinch. "I froze it. Why are you using my card?"