“I’msayingthat you marry the woman who won’t complicate your life more than it already is. The surrogate delivers the child, signs the paperwork, and disappears. Zonnique plays the role publicly, you get your heir, the council gets their proof, and we all move forward.”
“I don’t know, Pops,” I admitted honestly. “Zonnique got a new nigga and shit. Last thing I need is feelings resurfacing on her end and this turning intoanotherproblem.”
Pops nodded slowly. “Just think on it, son… but don’t think too long. Problems don’t get quieter the longer you ignore them. But whatever you decide, make sure it's the decision thatkeepsyou on that throne, because I’m not doing this shit forever.”
He reached for his newspaper and snapped it back open with the kind of finality that made it clear the conversation was over.
I sat there in the heavy silence, staring at the half-filled glass of Hennessy in front of me.
Marry Zonnique.
Hide the surrogate.
Fake the pregnancy.
Secure the heir.
That sounded good for the public eye and business. But sitting in that quiet room, I couldn’t shake what Ireallywanted.
The truth was, I dideventuallywant a family of my own. But I didn’t want a wife who played a role; I wanted someone I could have conversations with that actually mattered, someone I trusted enough to wake up next to without calculating my next move, someone who’d challenge me instead of just agreeing to stay out of my way, someone whose company didn’t feel like a business transaction and whose laugh meant something real, not performed.
I wanted a woman whomademe want to pull her close first thing in the morning and kiss her even when her breath was stinky as hell. I wanted to feel something when I touched her… that raw kind of connection. I wanted to take my lady on trips and feel proud as fuck having her on my arm in public, all while turning heads not because of the name on our marriage certificate, but because people saw her and understood why I choseher. I wanted to grow old and know I made at leastonechoice that was actually mine and not something the family negotiated on my behalf.
But the Belvior legacy doesn’t work that way. It trades your heart for a crown and your happiness for a dynasty.
If I was going to lose real love, real choice, and real family in the process, then I had to ask myself:
Was becoming the Don worth it?
A few seconds later Mama came rushing back into the dining room looking overly emotional.
“Joyce screamed so loud in my ear I almost dropped my phone!” she announced dramatically before sitting back down. “We’re going shopping tomorrow!”
I rubbed my forehead. “Y’all moving fast.”
“Of course we are!” she shrieked. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting on this?!”
“Every family dinner for the last three years,” Pops chimed in, his tone dry and laced with sarcasm.
“Oh, hush, Mayzen!” Mama said, waving him off dismissively. Then she turned her attention back to me, her curiosity piqued once more. “Anyway, what is the girl like? I can’t wait to meet her!”
That question felt more complicated than it should’ve.
“She’s…” I searched for the word carefully. “Unpredictable.”
“Hmph.Unpredictablemight be good for you.”
Or dangerous.
???
Anytime I needed answers to problems money, power, or violence couldn’t solve, I went to one person.
Ms. Odette, or Ma O, as I called her.
I’d gone to visit her plenty of times growing up after fights with my pops, funerals, deals went wrong, and when I didn’t want a sermon but still needed truth. And she always had that kind of truth that cut and heal in the same sentence.
Ma O wasn’t blood, but she was the closest thing to a grandmother I ever had. She helped raise half the Belvior men in one way or another. She washed our heads when we were kids, prayed over our chains before we wore them, and whispered over the caskets of the ones who didn’t make it home alive. Nobody questioned her. Hell, even my father treated her like royalty. I understood why though.
