“Watch that shit, Michelle. Don’t let that mouth write a check that I’m willing to cash,” I warn, flipping my jacket back and revealing my holstered guns.
“Are you seriously sitting here threatening your own mother?” Malcolm snaps. “Especially when she just showed us irrefutable proof of yourfiancéemurdering your stepfather?”
I slowly turn my head, silently staring Marcus’s former enforcer down. By the nature of his former position, he’s about violence, retribution, protection. So I get his anger, but I’m not Marcus. I’m something altogether different.
“Yes, I did threaten her, and I can easily include you in that group if you don’t watch who you’re coming at. You might want to take that fucking bass out your voice when talking to me.”
Malcolm’s face tightens, and next to him, the other three soldiers stir in their seats. One of them, a dark-skinned, middle-aged man with graying dreads, squeezes Malcolm’s shoulder.
“We’re all upset, understandably, and I’m sure Malcolm didn’t mean any disrespect,” he says. I think his name is Greg. “But with all respect, this video answers who killed Marcus. What other reason would Ember have to be there that night? Why didn’t we see her come back into the camera’s frame? And as a scientist who designs drugs for Cross, she, more than anyone, would not onlybe able to gain access to Marcus but also be able to shoot him up.” He sighs, holding his hands up, palms out. “The evidence is damning and clear. So it just leaves us one question. Prince, what do you plan to do about that?”
“That? Meaning my fiancée?” I arch an eyebrow, deliberately not addressing every valid and truthful argument he made. Fear for Ember lodges between my ribs, threatening to snap them in half.
Michelle laughs, and it’s caustic, bitter. “You cannot be serious. You’re still claiming that bi—”
“You got one more time.” I cut my eyes at Michelle. “We’re going to talk about this video, but if you can’t stop calling her out her name, then sit there and don’t say shit. When you disrespect her, you disrespect me. And we both know I don’t handle that well. So the decision is yours. Choose wisely.”
We engage in a visual war, humiliation flickering over her face, in her eyes.
“Fine,” she snaps. “But the point is Ember killed Marcus, the head of this organization. It’s the worst and most unforgivable sin to commit. Not to mention, only other bosses can sanction the taking of a life of another boss. So she broke not only the rule of the Cross family, which is punishable by death, but also the biggest one in our world. A life for a life.”
And this right here is why she invited these particular witnesses. Marcus’s enforcer, who would gladly avenge his death. Greg and other soldiers to attest to the crime. Don Amato and Naoki to verify the cardinal law in the underworld was broken.
She’s outmaneuvered me.
Hatred for my mother seethes beneath my skin, poisoning my blood until it seems to replace it. Most mothers would protect their sons, support them, seek to help them in any way they could. But not Michelle Prince Cross. She walked in here with one goal—to undermine me, to embarrass me, and to trap me. Her loathing for Ember weighs more than her love for me. Andwhen it comes down to the choice between revenge and abuse or the love of her son… there is no choice.
After years of watching her operate, after seeing how she betrayed, destroyed, and eventually killed my dad, I shouldn’t be surprised by her actions. And yet, I sit here with a hole in my chest, slowly bleeding out at her final betrayal.
“Where did you get this?” I ask Michelle, flicking a hand toward the laptop.
“It’s real, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “I’m not taking your word for it. I’ll have it authenticated myself.”
I already had. Ro had verified that the recording hadn’t been altered or somehow deep-faked before she sent me the original. But I needed to buy time, to plant doubt, to somehow, fucking somehow, save Ember from an imminent execution at my mother’s urging.
“How long will it take to have that done?” Naoki asks.
I search his face for any hint of condemnation, of rage, but it’s as unreadable as always.
“Not long. I have a tech who can handle it,” I reply.
He nods and stands. “Let me know when it’s done and the results. Until then, I have a meeting I need to attend.”
Don Amato follows suit, rising and rebuttoning his suit jacket. “Same. I’ll be waiting to hear the verdict. From you,” he pointedly states, pinning a flat, menacing stare on Michelle. “We’ll talk soon, Prince.”
I don’t say anything as the two men leave, probably fed the fuck up with our infighting and the messy way this entire meeting went down. Damn sure annoyed with Michelle. It isn’t often I’m embarrassed, but watching the don and oyabun exit the conference room, it singes my face, neck, and chest. This bullshit is an indictment of my leadership. Just a couple of days ago, they’d been praising me, and now… Shit, now they undoubtedly view me as incapable of handling shit in my own house.
Shifting my focus back to my mother, I’ve never so desperately wanted to treat a person like a random bitch on the street and choke her out.
“You’ve let whatever… fascination you have with this girl blind you,” Michelle says to me after the door closes behind the two men. Her voice softens, turns placating.
As if that’s going to work on me.
“Mom, please.” Kareem holds up a hand, wincing before giving me a sympathetic but firm look. “She might be going about it in an… unusual way, but Mom has a point. As much as I don’t want to believe Ember is capable of murdering her own father, there’s proof that she was there, in Marcus’s building, headed in the direction of his apartment the night he died. Did she tell you she was there?”
“No.”
