They were all used to it.
I wasn’t, and I never would be.
There was no universe where I would let her believe, even for a second, that she had any control over me.
“You must be mistaken if you think you can speak to me that way in my own home.”
I smiled faintly. “Then maybe don’t speak to me the way you're trying to.”
Mrs. Sterling let out a brittle, humorless laugh. “My son certainly has interesting taste.”
“He certainly does,” I said lightly, “and excellent judgment.”
Callahan shifted beside me, but he didn’t interrupt.
Mrs. Sterling's gaze hardened. “Confidence without foundation is arrogance, dear.”
“And belittling someone you just met,” I replied evenly, “is incredibly foolish.”
If tension had a sound, it would’ve been the sharp inhale from every person seated around us.
Mrs. Sterling reclined slowly in her chair. “I’m simply trying to understand what qualifies you to sit at this table.”
"I'd say this ring, but I've used that line already," I gave a pointed glance to Victoria, who flushed a deep red. "So, for you, I'll be blunt. I'm your son's wife, which means I'm now your daughter-in-law."
A few chairs creaked as people shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking anywhere but at me.
Mr. Sterling cleared his throat but said nothing.
Her smile turned saccharine. “Did you even finish school?”
“I did,” I replied with a small shrug. “I have an MBA in business administration. Gold diggers need to be educated too.”
Her eyes narrowed, but I couldn't pay attention to that as I heard the sharp gasp to the left of me. I shot a glance at Callahan, who had his eyes narrowed on me as well, looking so much like his mom in that moment. I offered him an apologetic smile. My degree was nothing to be ashamed of, but I’d inadvertently kept it a secret from him, among other things. It didn't seem to matter at the time. Now that I look back, maybe I should've told him.
Across the table, Emily let out a sudden burst of laughter before she could stop herself, covering her mouth as she tried to stifle it. I openly stared in amusement, watching her struggle to compose herself while glancing nervously at her mother.
"This is hilarious," she choked out, struggling to suppress her giggles as her mom fixed her with a sharp glare, her lips pressed tightly together in clear disapproval.
“And your parents?” Mrs. Sterling continued, not knowing when to quit.
“They're both business owners.”
Her brow arched.
“Business owners,” she repeated, as though the thought was ridiculous.
“Yes,” I replied evenly. “They're doing quite well for themselves.”
She scoffed. "I'm sure they are."
"They are," I said, my smile tight as my annoyance skyrocketed from five to ninety percent. I could tolerate her insults, but my parents were incredible people who deservedrespect. "You could learn from them. They'd never pressure any of us to get married, even if it meant being in a different tax bracket. If they did, they'd be nothing more than a pimp."
"A pimp?" she screeched. "You're calling me a pimp?"
"I wouldn't dare call a woman a pimp," I took a sip of wine. "Pimpette is much more fitting."
She spun around to look at her family, her anger evident in the way she snapped at them. "Are none of you going to say something to defend me?"
