She’s Back, and Hell’s Coming with Her novel Chapter 6

The timing was perfect.

Good. Very good.

Sabrina slipped into her clothes and opened the door.

Martha was waiting with a bright smile, stepping aside to let her pass. “Miss, Madam would like to see you.”

She remembered the first time she’d come downstairs in this house—her nerves a tangled mess, trembling with anxiety and hope. She’d brushed her teeth twice, scrubbed her face until her skin was raw, and put on the cleanest clothes she owned, all to meet the mother she’d been missing her whole life.

Back then, there’d been hope. Even joy.

Now, there was only hatred.

Sommer Lynn, the woman who donned the mask of the perfect mother, had greeted her with nothing but icy sarcasm. Every time Celine cried, Sabrina was forced to apologize, to confess her guilt for crimes she never committed.

She descended the staircase.

The living room was a monument to opulence, with priceless artwork lining the walls. Ornate rugs and antique sculptures made Sabrina, in her simple, worn clothes, feel like an outsider who’d wandered somewhere she didn’t belong.

Beyond the windows, a high fence coiled with blood-red rose thorns ringed the garden. Two lavish recliners sat on the patio, sunbeams slanting across them, scattering dappled light over the extravagant yard.

She pushed open the double doors, their panels carved with intricate patterns, and stepped into an even grander hall.

Sunlight poured in from tall windows. Beneath emerald-green curtains, a striking figure lounged on the sofa, flipping leisurely through a book.

“Madam, Sabrina’s here,” Martha announced.

Sommer seemed not to hear, absorbed in her reading.

Martha hesitated, then repeated herself more politely, “Madam?”

Martha froze for a moment, caught off guard by Sommer’s open disdain. Normally so kind, Sommer had never spoken so harshly in front of others. Even though she was smiling, the words stung. Sabrina wasn’t a child; she could hear the insult as clear as day.

Martha looked to Sabrina, worried she’d be embarrassed.

But before she could say anything, a cool, steady voice cut through the room.

“My clothes are perfectly clean, and they’re new. What exactly is dirty about them? Or torn? Maybe Madam should have her eyes checked.”

Her tone was even, her face calm, her words measured. She met Sommer’s gaze without flinching.

Sommer’s eyes widened in disbelief; she clearly hadn’t expected her newly found daughter to talk back.

Martha’s mouth fell open in shock. She couldn’t believe Sabrina had just implied that Madam needed to see an eye doctor.

After a brief moment, Sommer masked her anger, glancing quickly at the figure on the stairs before regaining her poised, elegant composure. But in her eyes, an unspoken grievance and sadness lingered.