Page 47 of Fifth Avenue Devil

"Oh, Annalise. Don't be so melodramatic," she chastises. "I'm your mother. I know what you like."

If I weren’t so angry, I would burst into laughter. My mom wouldn’t know what I liked if it was smack in front of her face.

I grit my teeth. This woman has controlled every aspect of my life since I was old enough to walk: what I wore, who I socialized with, and even what I studied at Princeton. Moving into this apartment was meant to escape her iron grip. Yet here she is, invading my space and uprooting the sanctuary I've worked so hard to cultivate, nosing in like a pig hunting for truffles.

"Mom," I say, forcing a smile onto my face. “Come on. I'm going to have a glass of wine and unwind. Why don’t you join me in the kitchen?"

"All right," she says airily. She carefully steps around my expensive pink pouf and my white leather armchair and follows me as I lead her to the kitchen.

As I pour each of us a glass of Grunër Vetliner, I can't shake the nagging feeling that there's more to my mother's visit than rearranging furniture. I wait for my mother to tell me the real reason for her visit. There's a tension in the air.

As a kid, I became an expert at reading the mood in any room. Between my father’s bouts of rage and my mother’s need to control every single element of our lives, it was essential to my survival to know when to fade into the wallpaper.

I take the first sip of my wine and brace myself for the storm I know is coming.

“So.” My mother looks at me, toying with her glass. “What came of the bachelorette auction?”

There it is.

I sigh. “Nothing, Mom. Nothing came of it. I don’t know what you expected.”

Mom takes a small sip of wine. She narrows her eyes at me as she swallows. I’m not sure how she manages to imbue her expression with so much disappointment and anger, but she does.

“Annalise, you need to take this process of finding a husband seriously. I can’t tell you how many pretty girls that are full of potential I’ve seen go down the tubes because they aged out of the marriage market.”

"This is my life, not yours," I spit out, staring her down. "If I want to pursue being a CEO, I will. If I want my art on the walls and my furniture arranged a certain way, that should be my decision."

My mom straightens, visibly irritated by my defiance. "Fine," she snaps. "Have it your way. But don't come crying to me when you realize how lonely and unfulfilling your chosen life is."

"Lonely?" I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I have friends, Mother. I have Dana. I have other casual friends. They aren’t all just socialite puppets."

"Friends won't keep you warm at night. Friends won’t secure your future," she retorts. "You need a partner who can match your status and ambition. Someone who can help solidify the Gellar legacy."

“Legacy? What legacy? We’ll be lucky if I can right the ship.”

“Oh? With Nate Fordham on your side?” She smiles victoriously, as if she’s somehow gotten dirt on my misdeeds.

“What do you know about it?” I ask calmly. It’s important that my mom doesn’t know that her poking and prodding rattles me. "What do you even know about the merger?"

"Enough to know that you decided on it without my consent," she snarls. "How dare you make such a monumental decision for our family without even consulting me?"

Gritting my teeth, I fight the urge to lash out at her. Why does she continually try to butt into company business? She believes she has the right to control every aspect of my life, from my wardrobe to my career.

"Mom, you have no say in the company's operations," I remind her, straining to keep my voice level. “I'm the one running things now, remember?"

"Only because your father is too ill to do so himself," she snaps, her words slicing through the air like a whip. "And don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, Annalise. By proving yourself as CEO, you’re hoping you'll finally earn your father’s love. But you're only setting yourself up for failure."

My anger finally boils over, getting the better of me. "Is that what you think? That everything I do is just some pathetic attempt to win Daddy's approval? News flash, Mom. Not everything revolves around you and your pathetic little mind games. I'll call the board meeting," I tell her sharply, "But understand this, Mother. There's nothing anyone can do about the merger now. It's done."

"Is it?" she asks. "You're certain of that?"

I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to back down. "I’m certain. Dad wagered the merger in a poker game against Nate Fordham and lost. I may have signed the paperwork for the merger to happen. But all that I did was save the company millions in legal fees. Nate won fair and square."

“Annalise.” She looks at me pityingly. “Do you even know the state Gellar Industries is in? Your father's reckless gambling has left us on far less stable financial ground than you might think."

Her words give me pause. “What do you mean?”

“Your father dipped into the company coffers to finance his lavish living expenses.” She smooths back a strand of her hair.

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