Four Of A Kind

I didn’t ask before what. I didn’t need to.

Sabrina moved to the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a thick manila folder stuffed with papers. She handed it to me without ceremony.

"These are the documents I mentioned yesterday. The ones my father told me to find after he died."

I flipped through the first few pages. Legal contracts. Financial statements. Correspondence between Richard Valentine and people whose names I didn’t recognize. None of it made much sense to me, but I could tell from Sabrina’s expression that it mattered. That this was the ammunition she’d been stockpiling for years, waiting for the right moment to deploy it.

"Your mother’s going to try to make me disappear," I said. It wasn’t a question.

"Yes."

"And these documents are your insurance policy."

"Partial insurance. There’s more I haven’t found yet." Sabrina’s jaw tightened. "My father was careful. He hid things in layers, made sure that no single person could access everything. I’ve been searching for years, but there are still pieces missing."

"What pieces?"

"The inheritance clause. The real one." She took the folder from my hands and set it back in the drawer. "The will says only one daughter inherits majority control of Valentine Holdings. But my father never told any of us which one. My mother claims she doesn’t know either, but I don’t believe her. I think she’s been manipulating all four of us our entire lives, trying to position herself to benefit no matter which of us eventually inherits."

I processed this information slowly. "So your mother sees your sisters as competition, not family."

"She sees everyone as either an asset or a threat. Right now, you’re being evaluated to determine which category you belong to." Sabrina’s purple eyes met mine. "Thursday’s meeting isn’t really about you. It’s about her demonstrating control. Reminding me that she can take away anything I care about whenever she wants."

"Sounds like a fun lady."

"She’s a monster." The words came out flat, without heat. "But she’s also my mother. And until I turn eighteen and gain access to my trust fund, she controls everything. My money, my living situation, my education. If she decided tomorrow that she wanted me gone from the manor, I’d have nowhere to go."

The weight of what she was telling me settled into my chest like a stone. This wasn’t just rich people drama. This was survival. Power plays and inheritance battles and a mother who viewed her own children as pieces on a chess board.

And I’d walked right into the middle of it.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. "You could have kept me in the dark. Let me think this was all just normal dating complications."

"Because you deserve to know what you’re getting into." Sabrina moved closer, until I could smell the lingering traces of her shampoo and see the tiny flecks of darker purple in her eyes. "And because I need you to understand something, Isaiah. Whatever happens with my mother, whatever she threatens or offers or demands, I’m not going to ask you to stay. That has to be your choice. If you decide this is too much, if you walk away right now and never come back, I won’t blame you."

She said it like she meant it. Like she’d already prepared herself for me to leave.

I reached out and cupped her face in my hands, tilting her chin up until our eyes met.

"Sabrina."

"What?"

"Shut up."

Her eyes went wide. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I brushed my thumb across her cheekbone, watching the way her breath caught. "I’m not going anywhere. Not because I’m too stupid to understand the danger, and not because I think I can fix all your problems. I’m staying because I want to. Because you’re worth the chaos. Because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you, and that’s terrifying, but it’s also the truest thing I’ve felt in a long time."

The words hung between us, heavier than I’d intended. I hadn’t planned to say them. Hadn’t planned to admit anything that real, that raw. But Sabrina had shown me her secrets, and it seemed only fair to give her one of mine.

She kissed me.

Not soft and sweet like this morning. Not cool and patient like last night. This kiss was desperate, hungry, the kind of kiss that came from someone who’d spent years convincing themselves they didn’t deserve good things and had just been told otherwise.

Her fingers tangled in my hair. Her body pressed against mine, all soft curves and warm skin. When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"You’re an idiot," she whispered.

"So I’ve been told."

"My mother is going to destroy you."

"She can try."

Sabrina laughed, a broken little sound that was half sob and half disbelief. "You actually believe that, don’t you? You actually think you can win against Camille Valentine."

"I think I can survive." I pulled her closer, tucking her head under my chin. "I’ve survived worse than angry rich ladies. I’ve survived Philly winters. I’ve survived Cassidy’s cooking attempts. I’ve survived Mr. Patterson’s Dracula impressions. One CEO with control issues isn’t going to break me."

"You’ve never met my mother."

"Looking forward to it."

We stood there for a long moment, wrapped around each other in her dead father’s study, surrounded by photographs of happier times. I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, rapid and unsteady. Could feel the tension slowly draining from her shoulders as she let herself believe, maybe for the first time, that someone was actually going to stay.

Eventually, she pulled back. "You need to go home. Iris is going to murder you."

"Probably."

"And you have that essay due Tuesday."

"Also probably."

"And your shift at the bar."

"I called in sick."

Her eyebrows rose. "You called in sick?"

"Maggie owes me like seventeen favors. She’ll survive one Saturday without me." I tucked a strand of wine-red hair behind her ear. "I’ll be back tomorrow. For the rotation thing. Two weeks, right?"

"Thirteen days now."

"Math genius."

"One of us has to be."