Annalise Johnston’s outstretched hand curled into a tight fist. She bit down so hard on her lower lip, it nearly drew blood.
A heartbeat later, she let out a cold laugh. “I think I finally understand why a woman like Selene would rather give up being Mrs. Vaughn than stay married to you.”
Harrison’s eyes, narrow and dark, flashed with an icy chill at her words.
He leaned forward just enough to remind her, “Don’t forget to report tomorrow. If you don’t show up, I’ll make sure there’s nowhere in this city left for you to hide.”
Annalise’s whole body began to tremble. Even though Harrison sat barely a foot away in the back of the car, he felt impossibly distant—untouchable, perched high above her, while she could only look up from the ground.
He was willing to tolerate her, but only because she served a purpose. If Annalise failed to recognize that, Harrison would make her understand—if he told her to swallow dirt and smile, she’d have no choice but to do it.
“Damn it!” she shouted, stomping her foot in futile rage. Back on Wall Street, she’d never been humiliated like this.
The black Maybach sped off, leaving her behind.
Harrison pulled out his laptop and began working.
From the seat beside him came Dames’ small, hesitant voice. “Is she really going to be my new mom?”
Harrison didn’t answer, his attention fixed on his screen.
Dames pressed on. “I don’t like her. Not at all.”
Finally, Harrison replied, cool and unbending, “You don’t have to like your new mother. Who I choose has nothing to do with you.”
His expression hardened, voice flat as winter glass. “Whoever becomes your new mother, their role is the same. They’re here to guide you, help you grow, and train you to be a worthy heir while I’m busy with work.”
Dames was quiet for a moment, then asked, “But do you like her?”
“No,” Harrison answered without hesitation.
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