You Thought Cilantro Was Just a Flavor? It’s Actually My FU, Cheater! by Mark Twain 23
Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Dylan appeared in the doorway in his silk robe, leaning against the frame with a lazy voice: “Looking for something?”
My heart stopped, but I kept my expression neutral: “Stomach ache. Looking for those pills the doctor prescribed last time.”
He stared at me for two seconds, then chuckled softly: “Medical kit in the living room, second shelf. Turn off the lights while you’re at
it-electricity bills are costs too.”
He turned back to the bedroom, his silhouette stretched thin by the night light, like a cold-blooded snake.
Saturday morning, Dylan had scheduled a video call with Swiss lawyers at ten sharp.
I left at nine, saying I needed to grab files from the office, but actually drove straight to the private archive facility in the west end-before marriage, I’d stored my mom’s old house deed and a few paintings my grandmother left behind there.
I thought he wouldn’t bother with those small items, but the manager told me: “Mr. Morrison was just here last week to pull files, said you’d
authorized him to handle the old house demolition.”
My heart sank as I pulled up the signature page-the flourishing characters spelling “Stella Parker” were clearly forged by him.
I gripped the copies, my knuckles white.
The manager looked at me sympathetically: “Ms. Parker, technically it’s marital property. Your husband had all the proper documentation, we
couldn’t really stop him.”
I nodded slightly, “OK.”
When I left the archive facility, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number-
In the photo, my mom sat on a bench at the old street corner, a cup of instant soup watered down beyond recognition in front of her, clutching a crumpled grocery store flyer in her hand.
Caption: [Poor Mrs. Parker. Pension cut, daughter won’t help.]
My head buzzed as I called back-phone was off.
A second later, Dylan’s text popped up:
[Stella, just got word from the demolition office. The old neighborhood project’s moving up. Compensation’s about $200K. Made the call for you-we’ll take cash instead of the house, transfer it to my Swiss account to save paperwork later. Mom can stay in my condo temporarily, saves
on rent.]
I stared at the screen, fingertips ice-cold.
He was even taking away my mom’s last refuge.
I looked up to see the financial news playing on the building’s glant screen across the street-StarMed Medical’s stock hit new highs, with VP Dylan Morrison being interviewed, flashing that practiced smile; “Steady investment, shareholder returns.”
The camera caught his wrist-that 1.18 carat diamond ring.
A cold smile crept across my lips.
He thought Stella Parker was just a line item under “human resources costs” in his financial statements?
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You Thought Cilantro Was Just a Flavor? It’s Actually My FU, Cheater!
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Chapter 4
Time to show him that human resources can become a catastrophic storm.
I called Rex Hartwell: “Rex, need you to check two things-first, that Swiss art consulting company Dylan set up; second, the demolition
authorization he forged with my signature last week. Can we get handwriting analysis?”
Rex chuckled on the other end: “Girl, you’re playing for real now?”
I stared at that polished face on the giant screen, my voice barely audible: “He’s tearing down my mom’s house. I’m tearing down his trust.”
Game on. Dylan.
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You Thought Cilantro Was Just a Flavor? It’s Actually My FU, Cheater!
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