Kalvon’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The cocky defiance in his eyes flickered and was replaced by something that looked a lot like genuine fear, but Kalvon was nothing if not committed to the performance.
He chuckled and shook his head slowly. “We’ll see. Enjoy your invisible crown… while it still fits,” he concluded, then pushed off the wall and left, his laughter echoing down the hallway.
I stood there, fists still trembling.
“What the hell was that about?” my father barked from behind me, his tone measured but sharp. “Are youtryingto prove him right?! Because from where I’m standing, you just gave him exactly what he wanted—ammunition!”
I finally turned to face my father who stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He was dressed impeccablyas always in a three-piece suit, gold cufflinks, and not a hair out of place.
“What is it always about with him? Power… jealousy… and the fact that he thinks proximity to the throne means he deserves to sit on it. He stays forgetting his place. It was time I gave him a reminder.” I shrugged.
“By nearly killing him?”
“By showing him exactly what happens when you disrespect the man who holds the crown.”
My father was quiet for a long moment, studying me with those sharp eyes that had built an empire and crushed countless enemies. He then shook his head as his eyes swept over the destroyed room, cataloging every broken piece and every sign of violence. Then they landed back on me.
“Sit,” he said simply.
It wasn’t a request.
I sank back into my chair, reached for my bourbon, and drained it in one swallow.
My father moved paced around the room slowly, his shoes crunching over broken glass. He picked up the fallen photo, examined the torn canvas, and exhaled deeply.
“Son, I love you, but Kalvon’s not wrong abouteverything.Just how he’s watching, so is the council. They’re also looking for weakness, and any excuse to question whether you’re ready. No one wants a leader who moves like a bachelor with no vision and no heir. That’s not power; that’s playboy energy, and this kingdom ain’t no playground.”
“Then let them watch too. Then they’ll see strength. They’ll see that I don’t tolerate disrespect, I don’t hesitate, and when someone crosses the line, there are consequences.”
My father’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his eyes.It wasn’t quite approval or disapproval, but something more complex.
“There’s a difference between demonstrating power and losing control of it, son,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t lose control; I made a choice.”
“Did you?” he countered. “Another thing, I’m growing impatient myself, Merge. I’ve given you time, hell,years, and you’re right at the deadline. You knew the rules. What’s going on with Zonnique? Are you two really trying to have a baby? Because from the looks of it, you’re either not touching her at all, or she’s barren. And if it’s the second one, we’ve got a problem that money and good genetics can’t fix. So, which is it?”
I grabbed the decanter from the middle of the table and poured more bourbon into my cracked glass. I took a sip, then another. The burn did nothing to dull the irritation crawling up my spine.
As soon as he mentioned Zonnique's name, the memory of the day I agreed to that bullshit arrangement hit me like a slap to the face.
Yup. Zonnique was still around… unfortunately.
Her becoming asemi-permanentfixture in my life started after that conversation with my father a year earlier. My old man made it crystal fucking clear: no child, no control of the family empire. Granted, I’d known about the position for years. And foryearsI procrastinated, brushed it off, thinking it was just another one of his idle threats to keep me in line. But that deadline he handed me wasn’t a casual reminder or some fatherly advice; it was a ticking clock counting down to a decision I’d been avoiding for far too damn long.
Finding a woman to have my child and marry shouldn’t have been that damn difficult for a nigga of my caliber. I mean, come on. I had the fine-nigga features, the prestigious family name, the money, and a bloodline powerful enough to open doors most people didn’t even know existed.
The problem wasn’t attracting women; it was finding one worth being tied to. Most of the women in my world wanted a check, clout, or another reason to keep their names trending on somebody’s timeline. They didn’t want to build anything; they wanted to be seen standing beside what had already been built. And whoever I chose wouldn’t be some temporary situation I could dismiss once I got bored. She would be my wife and the mother of my child, which meant I’d have to deal with her voice in my ear, her attitude disrupting my peace, and her perfume lingering in my sheets for the rest of my life.
Or at least until the marriage served its purpose and I decided she had outlived her usefulness.
Truthfully, I didn’t feel like meeting anybody new. I had neither the time nor the patience to sit through fake conversations, pretend to care about childhood memories, or study some unfamiliar woman long enough to determine whether she could be trusted with something as personal and permanent as my child. So, yeah, it had to be someone I already knew. Not necessarily someone I loved, just someone I understood well enough to tolerate.
Zonnique was the least catastrophic option available. She was loud, irritating, and fake as her lashes… but she wasuseful. And in my world,usefuloutrankedlikableevery time. Besides, Zonnique was already in the picture and had convinced herself she mattered more than she did. When I told her about the arrangement, she looked as though she’d been practicing her reaction in the mirror since middle school. Her eyes lit up like I’d just promised her a damn castleanda crown to match.
Still, a year later, and nothing to show for it; just the same irritating woman and a situation that felt more like a punishment than a partnership. So, either my boys were swimming in circles, or her oven came preheated with nothing to bake.
“On some real shit, I don't know what the hell is going on, Pops,” I admitted, setting the glass down harder than necessary. “We fuckin’...toodamn much if you ask me.”
