But as usual, I bite my tongue and shift on Raffaele’s lap while Mr. Clark explains what happens to the remaining assets such as Mom’s personal bank accounts, remaining funds in the estate, life insurance proceeds, and her personal belongings.
Everything is to be shared equally between us, which makes a bitter tang spread in my mouth. I don’t need to ask or check to know that Sabrina’s already taken everything of monetary value.
Finished with his explanation, Mr. Clark slides a folder across his desk. I catch him looking at me with what appears to be sympathy in his eyes. It’s the same look people gave me at Mom’s funeral—pity mixed with relief that they’re not in my shoes.
While I look the papers over and sign, he hands another folder to Sabrina. Once we’ve both signed, we swap and hand them back to him.
“That’s everything,” Mr. Clark announces. “You’ll receive everything electronically within the next week or so.”
We say our goodbyes, and I’m mortified when I’m the only Brewer who actually thanks him for all his help. Mom would roll over in her grave if she could see the way Sabrina’s behaving.
The glass doors of the law office swing shut behind us with a soft click that feels too anticlimactic for what just happened inside.
“I’ll go get the car,” Raffaele murmurs.
I nod but don’t answer. I’m too focused on Sabrina as she stalks ahead of us, her heels clicking sharply against the wet pavement. She didn’t even say goodbye. The thought makes something inside me snap.
After years of shrinking myself, of swallowing questions and hurt, I can’t do it anymore.
“Sabrina,” I call, my voice carrying across the nearly empty parking lot. “Wait up.”
She stops but doesn’t turn immediately. I watch her shoulders rise and fall with a dramatic sigh before she pivots to face me, her expression a mask of irritation. “What, Alina? It’s over. We’re done here.”
I take a few steps forward, closing the distance between us. The cold air stings my cheeks, or maybe it’s the adrenaline making my skin prickle.
“Why do you hate me so much?” The question escapes my lips before I can think better of it. Simple. Direct. The words hang between us like visible breath in the March air.
Sabrina’s perfect features twist into something ugly. For a moment, she looks so much like our dad that I almost take a stepback. “You want to know why?” she hisses. “Really? You’re that oblivious?”
Maxwell chuckles, a sound that crawls up my spine like unwanted fingers. “Maybe she is, babe. Fat and stupid often go together.”
I ignore him, keeping my focus on my sister. “Yes, I want to know. What did I ever do to make you treat me like—”
The crack of Sabrina’s palm against my cheek echoes in the parking lot. The force of it snaps my head to the side, leaving my ear ringing and my skin burning. I taste copper where my teeth cut into the inside of my cheek.
“Sabrina!” I exclaim, shocked. “W-why?”
When she raises her hand again, I stagger backward, tripping over my feet and falling on my butt on the cold, unforgiving asphalt.
She laughs hysterically. “What happened, Alina? Too fat for your legs to carry you?”
For the first time in my entire life, I don’t feel mortified at the mention of my weight. It stings, sure. But I’m noticing that’s all she ever has to say. Is that really why she hates me? Surely not.
I open my mouth to ask her if that’s why. But before I can even say anything, Raffaele pulls up and gets out of the car, the door slamming harder than necessary.
He takes one look at me sitting on the asphalt, my hand pressed to my burning cheek, and something in his expression hardens into something cold and lethal.
“What happened?” he asks, his voice low.
Maxwell snorts, clearly emboldened by the fact that Sabrina is standing beside him. “Bitch tripped over her own feet.”
Raffaele doesn’t respond to the insult. For a moment, he simply studies Maxwell with the same detached focus I’ve seen him use when assessing people back at the house—like he’s deciding whether something is worth his time.
Then he walks straight past me, and before Maxwell can react, Raffaele grabs him by the front of his expensive coat and slams him hard against the side of their car. The metal rattles from the force of it, the sound echoing across the nearly empty parking lot.
Maxwell’s laugh dies instantly.
“You think that was funny?” Raffaele growls, holding him there with effortless strength.
