142 A Fated Call and a Pending Invitation
Hazel’s POV 1
“So he actually signed the papers?” Vera’s voice held a mix of disbelief and excitement. I adjusted my phone against my ear as I sank deeper into my living room couch.
“He did.” I still couldn’t fully believe it myself. “Right there in his hospital bed. Though his mother looked like she might burst a blood vessel watching him do it.”
“Hallelujah! Never thought I’d see the day.” Vera paused. “But you don’t sound as thrilled as I expected. What’s wrong?”
I sighed, running fingers through my loose hair. “It’s this whole thing with my father. Alistair insisting on helping him. It feels… calculated.”
“Of course it is! It’s classic Alistair manipulation. He’s trying to stay connected to you.”
“Exactly.” I stared out the window at the city lights blinking in the distance. “One minute he’s signing divorce papers, the next he’s inserting himself into my family drama. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants to let me go or keep controlling me.”
“Men like Alistair don’t know how to exist without an audience. He needs you to witness his ‘nobility.” Vera made dramatic gagging sounds that drew a reluctant smile from me.
“I just want this chapter of my life closed for good.”
“And it will be. Soon.” Vera’s voice softened. “How are you feeling about the hearing next week?”
“Ready. More than ready.” I stood up and paced toward my kitchen. “I want to walk out of that courtroom as Hazel Shaw, free woman.”
“And we’ll celebrate accordingly! I’ve already booked a table at Elysium.”
“Vera! That place has a three-month waiting list.”
“Not for me,
it doesn’t.” I could hear the smirk in her voice. “Dad knows the owner. Consider it my divorce gift to you.”
We chatted for a few more minutes before ending the call. I set my phone down on the
counter and poured myself a glass of wine. The conversation left me thoughtful. Alistair’s sudden interest in “helping” my father couldn’t be genuine concern. He’d never cared about Harold before. This was just another way to keep himself entangled in my life.
As I sipped my wine, my mind drifted to the university centennial Vera had mentioned. Strange that I hadn’t received an invitation yet. I’d been an outstanding alumna, even donated consistently to their scholarship fund. Had my invitation been lost in the mail? Or worse-had I been deliberately excluded because of the scandal surrounding my family?
The thought stung more than I cared to admit. I’d worked hard to build my reputation in the industry. To think it might be tarnished by association was frustrating.
My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. When I saw Sebastian’s name flashing on the screen, my heart did that ridiculous little flutter it always did around him.
“Hello?” I answered, trying to sound casual.
“Hazel.” His deep voice flowed through the speaker. “How are you this evening?”
“Better now.” The words slipped out before I could filter them. “I mean—I’m fine. Just unwinding after a long day.”
His low chuckle warmed me more effectively than the wine. “I won’t keep you long. I wanted to ask if you’d received your invitation to the university centennial next month.”
I hesitated. “Actually, no. I was just wondering about that.”
“That’s odd. Mine arrived today. Gold embossed, very fancy.”
Of course his had. Sebastian Sinclair, major donor and most successful alumnus in recent history. The university probably hand-delivered his invitation with a marching band.
“Maybe mine will come tomorrow,” I offered weakly.
“I’m sure it will.” His tone was reassuring. “I should mention, they’re quite eager for me to attend. Apparently, my presence would ‘elevate the occasion.”
“Well, they’re not wrong. Having the elusive Sebastian Sinclair at their gala would certainly draw attention.”
142 A Fated Call and a Pending Invitation
“I told them my schedule is quite full.”
I felt an irrational pang of disappointment. “Oh, so you’re not going?”
“I didn’t say that.” There was a hint of playfulness in his voice I rarely heard. “I said I’d
consider it if certain conditions were met.”
“What conditions?”
“I stipulated that I’d only attend if you were going as well.”
My breath caught. “You did what?”
“Was that presumptuous of me?” He sounded genuinely concerned. “I thought it might be nice to have a familiar face there. These events can be tediously formal.”
“No, it’s not presumptuous. It’s…” I searched for the right word. “Sweet, actually.”
“Sweet isn’t a word often associated with me.” His amusement was clear. “But I’ll accept the compliment. So, will you join me? If your invitation arrives, of course.”
“I’d have to check my schedule.” I was playing coy now, and we both knew it. “I’m quite busy these days.”
“Too busy for an evening of champagne and pretentious conversations about architectural heritage and donor recognition plaques?”
A laugh bubbled up from my chest. “When you put it like that, how could I possibly resist?”
“Excellent. I’ll inform the alumni office to ensure your invitation wasn’t overlooked.”
The thought of Sebastian personally ensuring I wasn’t excluded sent a warm feeling through me. How many times in my life had someone actually stood up for me like that?
“Thank you, Sebastian.” I hoped he could hear the genuine gratitude in my voice.
“No need to thank me. I’m being entirely selfish. These events are much more tolerable with the right company.”
We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. It struck me how easy it was to talk to him now, compared to our first interactions.
“How are preparations for your divorce hearing coming along?” he asked suddenly, his tone shifting to something more serious.
I blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Fine, I think. Though it’s been postponed.”
“Postponed?” His voice sharpened. “Until when?”
The urgency in his question surprised me. “The judge granted a two-week extension because of Alistair’s hospitalization. Why do you sound so concerned?”
“Extensions can become habits with men like Alistair.” Sebastian’s voice was tight. “Each delay gives him more time to plan, to manipulate.”
A chill ran down my spine. “You think he’s stalling deliberately?”
“I think you shouldn’t underestimate him. Men who are losing power rarely surrender gracefully.”
I thought about Alistair’s strange behavior at the hospital-signing the papers one moment, inserting himself into my family affairs the next. Was it all part of some larger strategy?
“What should I do?” I asked, surprising myself with how readily I sought his advice.
Sebastian paused before answering. “Be vigilant. Document everything. And never meet with him alone.”
“You sound like you’ve dealt with this before.”
“Let’s just say I recognize the pattern.” His voice softened slightly. “Hazel, I don’t mean to alarm you. But I’ve seen what desperate men are capable of when they’re losing something they believe belongs to them.”
The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders. Just when I thought I was finally breaking free, was Alistair planning something that would pull me back into his
web?
“Sebastian,” I began hesitantly, “why do you care so much about what happens to me?”
The silence that followed was deafening. I could hear his measured breathing, could almost feel him weighing his response.
“Some connections are fated, Hazel.” His voice was low, almost intimate. “Some debts
can never be fully repaid.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he added, “I should let you get back to your evening. But I’ll be in touch about the centennial.”
“Sebastian, wait-” But he had already ended the call.
I stared at my phone, his cryptic words echoing in my mind. Some connections are fated. Some debts can never be fully repaid.
What debt could Sebastian Sinclair possibly owe me?
