Page 153 of Brutal Heir

“Well, if you’d bothered to answer your phone more often…”

“Mom…” I warned.

She sighed, and then, almost casually, dropped the bombshell. “I’ve…met someone.”

I froze, the noise of the café receding into static. “You’ve what?”

“You heard me. I’ve met someone.”

“You’ve met someone? Who?”

“He’s handsome and cultured, and you’re not going to believe this, but…Italian.”

“You hate Italian men.”

“I know what I said.”

“You didn’t just say it, Mom. You drilled it into my head. My entire life you told me: ‘Never trust a man, but especially never trust an Italian man.’”

“Listen, Sabrina. You’re not a child. You’re old enough to know that sometimes parents make mistakes.”

“Mistakes?” I scoffed. “I wouldn’t call you warning me that Prince Charming was really a demon in disguise who’d ruin my life a mistake!”

“Sabrina, you’re upset⁠—”

“Of course I’m upset! How did you meet this man?”

“It was the oddest thing,” she began. “A few weeks ago, I was at the theater in my usual subscription seats. You know how the Finklesteins have always sat next to me? Well, they weren’t there. This man said he’d purchased their seats. At first, I thought nothing of it, but then he was there for the next performance and the next. He got me a glass of wine during intermission, and…well, wine turned into dinner, and dinner turned into…”

I tuned her out, my mind racing.

Her words felt wrong. Scripted, somehow.

Too coincidental.

She laughed softly, bringing me back. “It’s like he knows me, Sabrina. We like all the same things. It’s almost as if he can read my mind.”

“Mom. I need to ask you about your family. The Badalamentis. And…and why you left Italy.”

There was a long pause.

“Mom?”

Her voice came back, colder now. “Not now, Sabrina.”

“Mom, please. It’s important.”

“I can’t talk about this right now. You know I don’t like to talk about such things. And I really should go. He’s waiting for me, and we’re already late.”

“Mom, wait! I need to warn you⁠—”

The line went dead.

I sat there, staring at the phone in my hand. Outside, the bells of a nearby church rang out.

Sebastian.

I didn’t know how, but I knew this was him.