Page 33 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

“Then you’ll be there. All three of you.”

“Ma, we’ve got a lot going on right now. Maybe we could⁠—”

“No maybes.” She’s not asking. “You boys work too hard. You need a home-cooked meal.”

“We have a chef.”

“Elena is wonderful, but she’s not your mother.” She pauses. “I’m making Max’s favorite.”

I close my eyes. Her braciole, beef braised low and slow until it falls apart, the sauce dark and sweet and rich with garlic. Max has been addicted to it since the first time she made it for us, junior year of university.

“Ma, you don’t have to cook. Let us order something. Or Elena can prepare⁠—”

“Ethan Anthony Brooks.” My full name. She’s bringing out the big guns. “I am not so old that I can’t cook dinner for my boys. Don’t insult me.”

“I would never.”

“Good. Saturday. Six o’clock. And tell Max to bring that wine he brought last time, the fancy one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And tell Finn to stop flirting with Mrs. Tanaka’s daughter. She’s too young for him.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

“Good boy.” Her voice softens. “I love you, tesoro. I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Love you too, Ma.”

I hang up and stand there for a moment, my phone warm in my hand.

She has a bad hip, a really bad heart, and arthritis in her hands that she reassures me doesn’t hurt but I know better. And still she insists on cooking elaborate meals for three grown men perfectly capable of feeding themselves.

That’s my mother. The toughest woman I’ve ever known. Also the most loving.

When my father died and the money ran out and the world felt like it was ending, she worked three jobs to keep us afloat, cleaning offices at night and taking in sewing during the day. She never once complained, never let me see her cry.

And when I brought Max home that first Thanksgiving, she took one look at him and saw an angry, wounded boy who had nowhere else to go, and opened her arms.

“You’re always welcome here,” she told him. “This is your home now too.”

Max’s eyes went glassy. I’d never seen that before, and I’ve rarely seen it since.

But in my mother’s kitchen, surrounded by the smell of her cooking and the warmth of her love, he opened up in a way few people ever got to see.

She gave him the family he never had. She gave all of us something worth protecting.

I push open my office door, my mind already shifting back to work. There’s research to review, data to analyze, and, most important, a mole to catch. Someone who tried to destroy everything we’ve built, and chose to do it now, with Equinox closer to the finish line than ever.

I think of Sophie. That uncanny ability to become whoever she needs to be, to vanish into a role so completely you forget there’s a person underneath. And I find myself wondering whether there’s any part of her left that’s real.

CHAPTER 11

Sophie

The moment I leave Max’s office, the strongest urge hits me.

Run.