“Fuck,” I cursed in irritation.
I’d been so focused on securing a child that I kept forgetting about the other important part of the damn arrangement—the marriage.
“Pops, on some real shit, I don’t think I can marry this girl.”
His expression barely changed. “Merge…”
“Pops, hear me out,” I cut in quickly. “I know what the bylaws state. I know we already talked about me divorcing too soon, having multiple wives, and even killing one,if necessary, but damn…” I rubbed my jaw slowly. “This girl texts like she got unlimited data and unlimited emotions. I’m talkin’ paragraphs, hell, voice notes that go on for three minutes. One day she texted me six question marks because I didn’t respond fast enough.”
Pops chuckled. “Well, son, itdoestake you forever to respond to a text. But the bigger question is, does it feel like she’s reaching out about the baby, or does it feel more personal than that?”
“Hell, both!” I exclaimed immediately.
That made my father laugh.
“I’m serious, Pops.”
He leaned forward slowly, resting his forearms on the table while thinking. Then, “I know we had this conversation a year ago, but would you feel better marrying Zonnique?”
I looked at him waiting for the punchline. I got no smirk or hint of amusement. The nigga was dead ass serious.
“Zonnique?” I repeated flatly. “Pops, I just told you she can’t have kids.”
He held his palm up. “I know. I know. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m probably just as desperate as Zonnique at this point… just for different reasons.”
I frowned slightly. “Meaning?”
“What if we fake Zonnique’s pregnancy and keep the surrogate quiet?” he suggested.
I snickered. “Pops, you know what’s crazy? Zonnique said that same shit when I found out about the surrogate.”
He leaned back, intrigued. “You don’t say?”
“Real talk. She was talkin’ ‘bout doing fake bellies… the whole fake pregnancy rollout. I shut it down because I told her you’d never go for something like that.”
Pops sighed heavily. “Normally, I wouldn’t. But…” he exhaled slowly, “I’m tired, son.”
That part surprised me more than anything.
My father never admitted exhaustion…ever.
I said nothing but kept listening.
“I built this family around structure for a reason. Once men start bending rules for comfort, the entire foundation weakens. That’s how dynasties collapse. I’ve carried this family for decades. Every deal, every war, everybody,and every decision eventually lands onme.”
His eyes lifted toward me.
“And somewhere on down the line, a man reaches a point where he’s ready to put the crown down before it buries him with it. I said all that to say, sometimes survival means choosing the least dangerous option, not the perfect one.”
He paused briefly.
“So, I ask again, would you rather be married to a woman like Zonnique, who already understands this world, knows how to play a role, minds her business, and values appearances… or a girl you barely know who already sounds emotionally attached before the child even arrives?”
I reclined after that, scratching my beard thoughtfully.
The logic wasn’t terrible. Zonnique understood power, privacy, and image. Whereas Talia felt too eager, too comfortable, and too emotional. And emotional women make dangerous decisions once their feelings get hurt.
“So, you’re saying keep Zonnique as the wife and hide the surrogate completely.”
