“The child comes first…always. So again, the woman who gives you your first child is the woman you’ll have to marry. That part isnotup for debate. And if you can’t produce an heir with the woman of your choosing or if you drag your feet too long trying to find the perfect woman,” his tone lowered slightly, “then I’ll make the decision for you… the same way my father did for me.”
“Damn, Pops.”
He shrugged again. “It’s never personal, son, just business. But I’d rather not go that route. Forced arrangements can get messy, resentment getsmessier,and nothing destabilizes power faster than a rich, unhappy spouse with access to secrets and too much free.”
A dry chuckle left him.
“So, before you start calling some fine lady ‘the one,’ make sure you know where that woman stands when it comes to having children. Save yourself the heartbreak and the complication. My advice? Don’t choose the girl based only on butterflies, chemistry, or how good she looks sitting on your lapordick. Choose her according to whether you truly believe she can survive this lifestyle. Can she handle pressure? Attention?Danger? The weight attached to our last name? Can she stand beside you without folding the second this world stops being fun and starts becoming ugly? Because loving a Belviorandsurviving a Belvior lifestyle are two completely different things. Also, go with someone you can picture yourself waking up beside every morning without flinching or feeling homicidal.”
That pulled a laugh out of me.
“I’m serious, son. Marrying a woman you hate creates a very stressful household.” His eyes sharpened slightly. “Still… even if you can’t love her, tolerate her.”
“Or kill her,” I muttered low under my breath, thinking he didn’t hear me.
Unfortunately, he did.
He pointed his cigar toward me.
“That’s an option too. But being a widower too young and changing wives every other year creates unnecessary attention. People start questioning your stability, your judgment, and your ability to lead. Investors get nervous, allies get cautious, and eventually enemies start whispering that the Belvior heir can’t keep a woman alive long enough to build a household.”
I nodded in understanding, then felt like fuckin’ with him.
“I assume you love Mama then, since y’allstilltogether,” I teased.
Him and Mama had a love-hate relationship. One day they’d be all lovey-dovey, cuddled up, laughing like high school sweethearts, and the next, she’d be throwing a shoe at his head for breathing too loud while she’s watching her stories.
“I do love her…now,” he responded, scratching his chin. “Just not when she’s hiding my cigars, switching the TV mid-game, or threatening to pour hot grits on me in her sleep like she’s Freddy Krueger with a breakfast special.”
I snorted. “So… you love her on a schedule?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Some days I’m in love, some days I’m just trying not to get hit with a shoe. Marriage is about balance, son.”
I didn’t respond right away. My mind drifted to the thought of being married to Zonnique.
I could already hear her talkin’ ‘bout,“Do the guards really need to be here all night?”then sliding into,“Your tone feels disrespectful,”just because I blinked too hard, followed by her beefin’ with my Mama for calling her“that lil’ girl,”and throwing a whole tantrum overparsleyon every item of food. Hell, I’d probably wake up one morning and mistake the sound of her heels for gunshots.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m ready for all this?” I confessed, the words slipped out lower than I intended.
It wasn’t weakness; it was a rare moment of truth in a room that didn’t allow many. That type of honesty in our world could get a man killedinstantlyif said to the wrong ear. But Pops just nodded, like he understood, becausemaybehe felt that way before taking on the position.
“Youare,” he replied confidently. “But readiness doesn’t matter in this family, rules do. So either build the throne or kneel before whoever does. Your choice.”
I grounded my molars.
I hated when my father was right. I hated it even more that he always was.
His tone softened. “I want greatness for you, son. You have my relentless drive and your mother’s natural charm. You could lead this empire into another centuryifyou stop thinking like a soldier and start thinking like aboss.Figure it out, Merge. The clock’s ticking, and the Belvior name doesn’t wait for indecision or hesitation.”
Pops poured himself another drink, then handed me one too.
“To two years," he toasted, raising his glass.
I clinked mine against his, the crystal ringing clear.
“To two years,” I repeated, though my heart raced with uncertainty.
***
