That was news to me.
“No shit?”
“Yesshit.” He laughed. “He said I was too reckless to make the right decision. Unfortunately, I proved him right more times than I care to admit. But you? I’m giving you that chance. So, choose like it matters because it does. Don’t be like me and spend years trying to convince your heart to agree with a choice your hunger already made. That kind of war with yourself will destroy you from the inside out, and nobody will ever know why you’re broken, because nobody sees it.”
He tapped his chest.
“The damage happens here. You keep fighting it long enough and eventually you forget what peace feels like.”
He paused, eyes hardened by years of sacrifice.
“So again, choose wisely, son, because the worst prison a man can live in is one he builds for himself.”
For the first time during our talk, I wasn’t thinking about the crown; I was thinking about the cost of it.
“Look,” he continued, “I know it feels wrong being expected to marry for anything other than love. But if I’m being honest, I wasn’t in love with your mother when we got married; hell, I didn’t even like her ass.”
Damn.
Pops shook his head as if the memory tasted bitter and sweet at the same time.
“But… I wanted the empire, so I did what needed to be done. I got married, had the child, and locked my feelings away. Then… somewhere along the way,loveshowed up.”
I tilted my head, smirk creeping back. “And you’re hoping for a repeat performance?”
Pops let out a dry chuckle. “I’m hoping formaturity… love’s optional.”
He tapped his ash into a crystal tray, then reclined in his chair.
“But let me make one thing clear. When I step down, on thatexactday, youmustbe married—not engaged, not promising to try butmarried. No wife, no crown. And trust me, Kalvon will be watching. He wants this positionalmostas bad as you. He’s waiting for one crack in your discipline, one delay in choosing a wife, one whisper about you being sterile or one rumor that you fumbled the bloodline.”
“Then let him watch, whisper and pray on delays,” I said. “’Cause the second he mistakes my patience for weakness I’ll bury his ass under the same legacy he thought I couldn’t build. I won’t just bury him, though; I’ll salt the grave, so nothing ever grows with his name on it. Wife or not… child or not… that seat already got my name on it inblood.I’m just deciding who gets to sit next to me before I take it.”
My father cracked an impressive smirk. “That’s the Belvior blood I needed to hear.”
The Belvior Family wasn’t just a crew or a gang; we were a dynasty built on blood, structure, and fear. We stood as the wealthiest Black family in New Orleans, and arguably the entire South. We didn’t just run that city; we orchestrated its very rhythm. Every contract signed, every club opened, and everybody that turned up in the alleys bore our fingerprints in some form. People didn’t just know of the Belviors, they feared us deeply. Whispering “Belvior” too loudly could send shivers down one’s spine, prompting wary glances and anxious looks over their shoulders.
Anyone of high rank affiliated with our family could walk into any restaurant, shop, nightclub, or hotel without paying a dime. That wasn’t because we lacked the means, it was simply that no one dared to hand us a bill. Politicians owed us favors,judges raised their glasses in our honor, our enemies envied us deeply, and our allies followed our demands without question. Law enforcement even turned a blind eye before we urged them to, while the city itself learned to bow before our presence. In our world, respect wasn't something we asked for; it was given willingly and automatically.
My father played chess. Me? I was the checkmate. Muthafuckas never saw me coming until there were no moves left to make. I wasn’t just muscle; I mastered the board, then started controlling it. If I kept moving the way I had been, that crown was already mine. Next in line wasn’t a question, it was a countdown. All I had to do was wait my turn and make sure nobody lived long enough to block it.
“So, question. What if I end up with a daughter first?”
“A daughter still counts. The official requirement is an heir. Any legitimate first child fulfills that obligation. But let’s not play dumb either. In families like ours, a son has always been viewed as stronger politically. Men trust sons quicker when power is involved. They see continuity, stability, and a future version of you.”
He took a slow pull from his cigar.
“Now personally, I think daughters can be just as dangerous if raised correctly… sometimes more dangerous.” A dark chuckle left him. “Still, rules are rules. If your first child is a girl, your position remains secure. Nobody can publicly challenge your place over that. Now privately? Of course, there will be old men whispering over expensive liquor about how a boy would’ve been preferable. Ignore them. Those same men tend to underestimate daughters right before those daughters become the most dangerous people in the room.”
I nodded slowly before folding my hands together and staring him down again. “Last question.”
His brow lifted slightly.
“So,hypotheticallyspeaking… say I fall for a woman in the next few months. She fits into my life naturally, she understands me, I want her around, and I can actually see her being my wife, carrying my child, and enjoying this life with.” I paused briefly before finishing. “But later I find out she can’t give me a child. Then what?”
“Then you let her go.” He shrugged without an ounce of emotion. “Merge, as much as you may care for her, emotions don’t outweigh legacy. And hopefully you’ll discover that valuable informationbeforemarrying her. Untangling emotions after paperwork gets involved becomes inconvenient.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
