TheDiabolical Dragon Lady

Morgan's POV

It was like someone was trying to drum the “Immigrant Song”on my front door. "Morgan? Openthis door right now,” my stepmother said, her voice as warm as an arctic blizzard. I paused, asking myselfwho’d planned this family reunion from hell at precisely the moment my life was exploding. But when the knocking turned into what sounded like someonetrying to break in with a battering ram, I heaved myself up and went to the door.

Much to my utter dismay, my stepmother, Victoria, stoodthere with my father, Richard. His expression was grimmerthan a mortician with a toothache. “Stepmother, Father, I’m sort of in the midst of my life crashing spectacularly to theground...” Istarted, but my dad interrupted me with all of the subtlety of a chainsaw.

“We must address an urgent matter that cannot wait under any circumstances,” he said in his CEO voice — the voice he usedwhen firing people or ordering at expensive restaurants. Anxietyswirled with my already roiling emotional cocktail.

“What calamity brings you to mydoor?” “Why?” Iasked, stepping aside, reluctantly. My father’s laser-focus zeroed in on Kylie and Ethan on the couch, his eyebrowsnarrowing with the disappointment he usually reserved for my career choices and haircuts.

“We’lltalk inside,” Victoria said, stomping into my apartment, as if she were checking out a property about to lowball herself. My father trailed behind, eyes gluedto the guilty pair. I shut the door and surrendered to this new layerof nightmare.

As westepped into the living room, Victoria’s meticulously penciled-in eyebrows flew toward her hairline. "Kylie? What are you doinghere, pour a pea? shesnapped, her voice crisper than her stiletto heels. My father’s face darkened to a shade I’d seen onlywhen someone scratched his vintage Porsche.

“Kylie, you willexplain yourself this instant,” he thundered, the very furniture seeming to cower. Kylie clenched in on herself, tears springing in her eyes as though she were auditioning for asoap opera.

“I…I can explain,” she stuttered, with all the authority of a toddlercaught coloring on the walls. Victoria squinted into dangerousslits, her arms folding across her designer blazer.

"Explain what exactly?" Shespat out, each word laced with venom. Kylie hesitated,her gaze bouncing between Victoria and my father like a nervous ping-pong ball.

“I … I …” she stammered, words seeminglyon backorder. Victoria’s anger made her expensive foundation workovertime.

"Well? We're waiting!" she barked, hands on her hips as if shewere auditioning for "Intimidating Stepmother Monthly." The room was suddenly quiet, the tension thick enough to be sliced and served atan upscale dinner party.

As Kylie kept up the excellent work ofa mute, Victoria turned to me like a military turret. "Morgan? Tellme what is going on and what this is...” she pointed accusingly at Ethan with amanicured finger, “specimen is doing here?” Ethan whitened as paleas my walls.

I took a deep breath, combing my fingers throughmy hair as though to comb out the chaos. "Well...I just got home and foundKylie having an intimate Netflix and chill episode with my boyfriend. The words dropped into the air like a stink bomb, the spacegoing as quiet as a library after hours.

Victoria’s face twisted with fury, her eyespopping as if she’d seen someone wear white after Labor Day. "WHAT?! ” she shouted, her voice likely triggeringcar alarms three blocks away. “Thisis why you don't wear out with family at all,” wrote one user. “Well, you’re engaged, for Christ’ssake!” She stalkedtoward Kylie like a predator closing in for the kill.

Kylie melted into tears, mascara running inimpressionistic rivulets down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for thisto happen, I just...” she blubbered, her sentence fading intonothingness.

Victoria was furious ina most nuclear manner. "You just what?" she snapped, nearly vibrating withrage. “Thought your sister’s boyfriend seemed like afun ride? Do you have the FIRST CLUE how sky highthis is?” She threw her hands up dramatically, appearing disgusted enoughto require a hazmat suit.

Kylie looked up at her mother with green-brown puppy eyesthat had stopped working by the time she was twelve. “It’s not what it looks like,” she protested feebly, with all the credibilityof a politician’s pledge.

Victoria raised her eyebrow skeptically, as if she was judging a sciencefair. "Oh really? Please, do tell us what that looks like,Kylie. BecauseI’m so confused right now.” She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot — tap tap tap — as iftrying to send morse code signals of disapproval.

Kylie fell back a step, her eyes darting around likeshe was looking for an escape hatch. "I...I love you both, but...but...” she stammered, words hanging ineffectually in the atmosphere like discarded Christmasornaments.

My father’s face turned asdark as thunderclouds. “How dare you bringshame on this family? We didn’tpay good money for your education to act this way!’” He moved toward Kylie, his voice lowering to the dangerously whispery pitch that usuallywarned someone was about to get cut out of the will.

Kylie’s eyes filledagain, her face desperate. “Please, you can just listen to me,” she insisted, her voice splintering likecheap glassware. “There’s more to this story thanmeets the eye.”

Victoria presented an ‘unconvinced’ pose with raised eyebrowand head tilt. “What plot twist couldmake this OK?” she said, sarcasm oozing onto my carpet. She shifted her weight, as if waiting for a particularly underwhelming magictrick.

Kylielooked at the floor like she was looking for her dignity. She froze like a deercaught in headlights — if the deer had just been busted sleeping with her sister’s boyfriend. Her shoulders shook as if she werestanding in an earthquake that only she could feel.

Richard crossed his arms, his face more stone than diamond wrappedaround Victoria’s finger. “Kylie, your behavior is simply disgusting,” he bellowed, hisvoice ricocheting off the walls like a racquetball.

Kylie’s head jerkedup, a small rage-switch flipping to life. She prepared, squaring her shoulders as if she wasreadying for battle. "Mother...I can't marry him. “I can’t marry Maxwell Prescott Fleming,” she declared, hervoice wavering, but resolute.

Victoria’s perfectly shaped brow furrowed,rage replaced by confusion for one millisecond. “What do youmean you ‘can’t marry Maxwell’? she asked, her voice sharp enough forsurgery.

Kylie met her eyes, finding herspine all of a sudden. “I’m pregnant with Ethan’s child,” she declared, tossing the words like agrenade in the room.

CRASH!

Myheart broke like a wrecking ball, exploding pieces of emotional shrapnel through my entire body. My parents froze asif someone had pressed pause, their faces a master class in shock and horror. Ifelt sucker-punched by the universe, my lungs forgetting how to work. The man I believed loved me didn’tjust fuck around; he created life with my stepsister. The room lurched and swayedas though I was riding a carnival ride for which I’d never bought a ticket.

I couldn’t breathe, my chest tightening as ifit were in a vise. My fingers began to clutch at my heart, digging into my skin as if I could somehow physically keepthe pieces together.

My head was spinning faster thana washing machine on final cycle. I staggered back, darkness closing in atthe corners of my vision like spilled ink. I instinctively reached out,starving for help.

But there was nothing. No one rushed over to me, no one gave so much asa “there, there.” I was alone, bleeding emotions intomy IKEA rug.

Victoria’s voice cameout low and stretched, as if she were speaking through molasses.

"You...are...pregnant?"

She did take a step back, hereyes raking Kylie as a human lie detector.

Kylie answeredback, her voice barely above a ghostly whisper.

"Yes, Mom." More tears streamed down her face, and her body shooklike she was in a freezer.

Richard’s eyes boredinto Kylie with laser focus.

"Are...you absolutely certain?" he exclaimed, voice steady but laced withdesperation that this was all some awful gag.

Kylie nodded so hard I thought her head wouldfall off. “Yes,” she said, in a voice crackinglike thin ice.

"I took a test. It was positive. And I took threeothers just in case.”

The room fell into suchabsolute silence you could hear dust settling. Richard glanced at Victoria, who was looking as though she’d seen a ghost, in particular the ghost of her social standing and carefully managedfamily agendas.

Victoria raised a perfectly manicured finger to her mouth, her nail-biting habit rearingits ugly head like a groundhog on February 2nd — an obvious sign her conniving mind was at work.

Hushed and urgent, Richardprodded her.

“Victoria, say something,for Christ’s sake.

But Victoria just stood there, staring at Kylie as ifshe were running an equation in her head about how much this whole thing had cost her in money and social capital.

Victoria’s attention snappedto me like a small animal sighting prey. A chill colder than my ex’s heart crept down my spine as she paused chewing on hernail — the international sign that Victoria had devised a plan. Her eyescaptured mine with tractor-beam intensity, and I knew with sinking certainty that I was about to be collateral damage in whatever scheme she’d cooked up.

“I think I have a solution for our little hiccup,” she said, a smile workingacross her face that would make a shark back away slowly.

My father sat up like a dog who hears the rustle of a treat bag, leaning inwith interest. "Really? What good plan do youhave?” he asked, everysyllable dripping with hope.

Victoria’s eyes were trained on me likea sniper scope. She stared at me as thoughshe were choosing a sacrifice. “Maxwell Prescott Flemingwill marry Morgan.”

I droppedmy jaw so quickly it almost popped out. "Hold up...WHAT?! ” I squeaked, the sound fading into thestratosphere.

The nod ofVictoria was sharp and definite as an executioner’s axe. “Hercharacter is just perfect for the situation.

It left me standing there, shell shocked, my mindbarely able to process this new horror. Marriage? To Maxwell Prescott Fleming? Conversations with a man who had more syllables in hisname than our entire relationship? This couldn't be happening. But Victoria was glaring at me, challenging me to say anything, hereyes threatening dire repercussions if I did.

And just when I was sucking back breaths for what would’ve been the protest of the century,she added the finishing touch: “You’ll be leaving for the Fleming estate tomorrow, Morgan. Your wedding dressis already waiting for you…”