I glared at the five-year-old munchkin at my feet and viciously swapped his glass of milk for a cup of pure, unsweetened kale juice. From then on, he wasn't allowed to be a picky eater. If he wanted a pet, he was on litter box duty. Later, when he applied for college, I even secretly altered his applications. Years later, the villain achieved massive success. I thought my doom had finally arrived. Instead, he stood before the media and said, "The person I want to thank the most is my mom. Her love accompanied me as I grew up, and she guided the direction of my life." Wait a minute, did something go wrong here? 01 After I died of an illness, the System let me transmigrate as a villain's wicked stepmother so I could continue living. But the catch was: I couldn't break character. This was a gritty urban thriller novel. The five-year-old standing before me, Oliver Vance, was destined to become the ultimate villain who would one day ruin the male lead's family. And the primary cause of his twisted psychology was me. His wicked stepmother. I thought about it for a moment. I really didn't have any experience being evil. I simply interpreted it as: Don't let him have it too easy. So, I looked at the little guy sitting properly in his chair, quietly drinking his milk. I snatched the cup away from him and handed it to the nanny. "Swap this for pure kale and wheatgrass juice. The more bitter, the better." The little guy was stunned for a second, a white milk mustache still clinging to his upper lip. He glared at me furiously, but didn't dare speak. When I transmigrated, this body had already been married into the Vance family for over half a year. According to the original plot, after I realized that Arthur Vance—the villain's father—rarely came home, I gradually tore off my gentle mask. I started tormenting and framing little Oliver in every way possible. At first, he fought back, but how could a kid win against an adult? Every time he complained, I'd double down, falsely accusing him and twisting his words. After long-term emotional abuse, he had learned to swallow his anger and stay silent. Now, all I had to do was carry on this legacy. With a little bit of my own flair added in. Oliver had probably never tasted pure kale juice in his life. His little face scrunched up into a tight ball, and he instinctively stuck his tongue out in disgust. My heart melted at how cute he was, but I forced a cold tone. "Drink it all!" Making a kid drink gross health juice is basically cruel and unusual punishment. How is this not a form of abuse? I was doing a phenomenal job as an evil stepmother. Thinking of this, I couldn't help but let out a sinister laugh. 02 After breakfast, the nanny was getting ready to take Oliver to preschool. I frowned when I saw him dressed in cheap, worn-out clothes. "Why are you dressing him like that on purpose?" "Didn't you say before that we shouldn't feed a child's vanity, and that it's better to keep him low-profile?" Tsk, tsk. The original owner of this body was truly wicked and manipulative. She actually wanted to use this method to crush Oliver's self-esteem. But she completely miscalculated. What do kids in preschool know about being rich or poor? At this age, a kid's biggest fear is being isolated and left out. Thinking of this, I immediately ordered the nanny to change Oliver into a tailored baby Armani suit. I even added an adorable little bow tie. Then, I had the driver pull out the most expensive, flashy Rolls-Royce from the garage. I had to make absolutely sure he became the most extra, stand-out kid in the entire preschool. Hate the rich! Let them all hate the rich! I suppose my behavior was a bit too different from my usual self. Right before leaving, little Oliver anxiously pursed his lips and asked softly, "Why are you doing this?" I crouched down and let out a villainous cackle. "Because I'm evil!" Oliver was so scared he took a step back. I lunged forward and planted a massive kiss right on his chubby little cheek. He covered his face in horror. I took the opportunity to threaten him. "Hurry up and say goodbye to Mommy, or else when you get out of school this afternoon, I'll personally come block the preschool gates." After living with the original owner for half a year, he probably hated my guts. Kissing him and forcing him to call me Mom was basically tap-dancing on his last nerve. But he had no choice but to submit. Watching Oliver clamp his mouth shut and run out the door, I felt I was being villainous beyond measure. 03 After Oliver went to school, I started wandering aimlessly around the massive mansion. The novel stated that Arthur Vance was always busy with business, often disappearing for weeks at a time. I was purely a wife he married just to have someone look after Oliver. He deposited a $500,000 allowance into my account every single month. He probably thought a massive allowance would make a stepmother treat his kid well. He didn't realize it only fueled her greed instead. Thinking of this, I sighed and asked the System, How long do I have to keep up this evil persona? The System replied: The wicked stepmother has a crucial scene where she secretly alters Oliver's college applications, forcing him to go abroad where he experiences even darker things. So, your persona must be maintained at least until Oliver takes his SATs and applies for college. A rough calculation meant I had at least thirteen years left. Although living as a billionaire's wife meant every day was a blessing, having to maintain an evil persona every single day was exhausting. So, I decided to go on a crazy shopping spree to comfort myself. 04 As the sky began to dim, the driver pulled up right on time at the gates of the private preschool. Oliver hadn't said goodbye to me when he left this morning. If I said I was going to pick him up, I had to follow through. I needed to establish my absolute authority. Let him know the true terror of his wicked stepmother. I have to say, this elite private preschool looked like a literal castle. Not long after, a teacher led a group of munchkins out the doors. They waddled around, finding their respective parents. I decided to sit quietly in the car for a moment. I planned to pop out and give Oliver a jump-scare right when he started panicking that his parents forgot to pick him up. But to my surprise, the moment the teacher walked away, several kids surrounded Oliver. I could vaguely hear them teasing him about "Mommy... picking you up." Oliver kept his head down in silence. Those kids started jumping around him, clapping their hands and laughing. Me: ??? Hold on, are we bullying now? As a certified evil stepmother, I immediately swooped in to ruin their fun. "Hey, why aren't you brats going home? Did your parents abandon you? Is that it? Are you unwanted?" I pulled the surrounded Oliver behind me and glared viciously at the group of kids. Yes, exactly like this. I'm going to alienate all of his little friends. "Who are you? Are you the liar's big sister?" Being called a big sister made my heart flutter a little. But I immediately snapped back, "Who's a liar? Didn't your teacher teach you manners? I am Oliver's mother! Our Oliver doesn't like you, and you're not allowed to play with him anymore." "Oliver's mom? His mom is the nanny, I've seen her! She doesn't look like you. He lied and said she wasn't his mom. He's just a vain liar, we don't want to play with him anyway!" What kind of messy preschool drama was this? "I am Oliver's mother!" I angrily raised my fist, and the group of bratty kids immediately scattered, giggling as they ran off. At that moment, Oliver, who had been standing behind me, tugged at the hem of my shirt. He looked up at me, his big eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you for coming to pick me up today." Wait, is something wrong here? Why is he thanking me? 05 I guess my tactic of establishing authority actually worked. Once we got home, Oliver was unusually obedient. Not only did he trot behind me like a little duckling, but during dinner, he actively helped me peel my shrimp. He carefully placed the peeled shrimp into my bowl. Seeing I hadn't moved to eat it, he made sure to emphasize, "I washed my hands." I picked up my fork. Delicious. "Good peeling. Your reward is to peel a few more for me." Little Oliver pursed his lips to hide a small smile, lowered his head, and earnestly went back to peeling shrimp. Eventually, I was too full to eat anymore, and the rest of the shrimp ended up in his tummy. Having eaten too much for dinner, it was time for some physical activity. Considering my evil persona, what better exercise than tormenting a child? I dragged my eighteen shopping bags into his room. I waved at Oliver, who was currently playing with a Rubik's Cube. "Come here. Try on some clothes." Oliver's clothes were usually custom-tailored and delivered directly. He had probably never done a fitting session before, so at first, he was super excited. He even smiled, showing his cute little canine teeth. Until later. He choked back a sob, "Please... I can't try on any more..." "But we haven't even tried the bumblebee, the penguin, the little duckling, or the monster onesies yet." Oliver went silent. Wearing a green dinosaur onesie, he just stood there, looking at me with teary eyes. Me: ... Fine. Evil plan continued, switching to the next project. 06 When it was time for bed, I decided to inflict my final torment of the day on Oliver. I forced him to stay in my room to sleep with me. After he changed into his pajamas, I handed him a storybook. "Read a story to Mommy. Coax Mommy to sleep." Oliver stared blankly, as if unable to comprehend how an adult could be this shameless. But he still took the book. "Once upon a time... a queen sat at an... o-pen win-dow, doing needlework for her daugh-ter." Me: ... I forgot the kid was only five and didn't know many words yet. But this gave me an inspiration. Most kids love playing and absolutely despise studying. A lightbulb went off in my head. A truly sinister plan began to form. Beside me, Oliver was still stumbling through the book. He obviously knew he was struggling with the words, and seeing me staring at him, his little face flushed bright red, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I... I... I can read it to you tomorrow, okay?" I let out my villainous cackle and snatched the book away. "Lie down. Now it's Mommy's turn to read you a story. Tonight's story is called Snow White and Her Seven Stepmothers." An absolutely terrifying horror story. In the end, I have no idea if Oliver fell asleep, but I managed to put myself to sleep telling it. In my hazy state, I felt something soft press gently against my cheek. A tiny voice whispered, "Mommy." 07 The next morning, while Oliver was at school, I put my "Tiger Mom" plan into motion. Advanced phonics, Kumon math, French, piano—I scheduled it all. I hired the strictest tutors and bought the thickest workbooks. I fully expected that when Oliver got home and found out, he would feel like the sky was falling. To my surprise, he adapted perfectly. He put extra, intense effort into learning to read. A few days later, as I was walking past the study, he poked his little head out and read aloud, loudly and fluently: "Once upon a time, a queen sat at an open window, doing needlework for her daughter." After reading it, he looked at me with a face full of expectation. To encourage him, I decided to reward him by letting him read me bedtime stories every night to put me to sleep.
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