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My townhouse was a prized accomplishment to me back then. I was so proud of myself for doing this on my own. Meanwhile she had a man who did everything for her. She never learned to be independent in the way that I did.

My brother and I were handed our family’s restaurant business and we grew it to three fine dining restaurants. But that was all over now. All because of Justice and Skye.

My phone had been buzzing across the coffee table for the past hour. Reporters wanted statements. Employees wanted to know when they could come back to work. Two vendors had already suspended our deliveries, and everyone who had booked our restaurants over the next year for their private events wanted their deposits back. I ignored all of them and stared at Monica.

She was holding Storie against her side in the picture. Storie was still a little girl then, smiling hard enough to show all of her baby teeth. They were wearing matching white tank tops and light blue denim shorts. I stood beside them with my arm around Monica, grinning at the camera as if I had everything I wanted.

I did have almost everything but her husband.

That ugly little truth had been mine since Monica and Justice got together. Monica and I had been friends since high school, and I knew wanting Justice made me foul. I never crossed that line while she was alive. I sat at their table, held their daughters at the hospital and smiled through years of watching him love her. Every time Monica complained about something he had done or failed to do, I wanted to shake her. She had Justice Banks and still found reasons to be dissatisfied.

Monica never deserved him.

I was cuter than her too. Since I was alone, I could admit it without pretending to be a decent person. I had lighter skin, longer hair and a better body. Monica was pretty, but she did not turn heads when she entered a room. I did. None of that mattered because Justice had loved her for years. She got his loyalty, his children and his last name while I stood beside her playing second fiddle.

Even after she died, I did what I was supposed to do. I showed up for her girls. I helped Justice whenever he called. I became whatever that family needed because I loved Storie and Dream, but I also believed he might finally see me. When he came to me after one of those long nights, I thought all my patience had finally paid off.

He’d been clear about what he wanted, but I hadn’t believed him. He said we were just a casual thing, and I just couldn’t accept it.

Justice said he only wanted sex but still called me every week. He would rent hotel suites, lie down beside me, and trust me with his children. How could he be shocked when I started expecting more? Was I supposed to accept whatever scraps he offered and feel grateful because Monica had gotten the full meal first? That was unacceptable.

Then Skye showed up with those dimples and that big ass. She seduced that man and she knew exactly what she was doing. She weaseled her way into that house under the guise of taking care of Rita.

But Storie told me all about how she was afraid of her. How Skye would turn cold and say mean things whenever Justice wasn’t around. Storie told me that she thinks Skye isn’t her real name.

I cannot believe this is who Justice has discarded me for. He acted as if the last few months meant nothing. I was just some warm hole for him to pump his stress into. He took my goddaughters away, threatened me on his property and accused me of killing an animal I did not kill.

Midnite had died one week ago. Now all three Marceline’s locations were temporarily closed, and I still couldn’t believe it.

The television across from me was muted, but the banner running along the bottom of the screen still carried my family’s name beside the words RODENT AND ROACH INFESTATIONS. Earlier that afternoon, I had watched footage of health inspectors walking through the Silver Spring location while customers stood outside recording everything on their phones. Somebody had posted a video of a mouse racing beneath a prep table. The clip had already been viewed more than a million times.

It’s gone viral on TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook. All my family’s hard work decimated in a day.

My grandmother created Marceline’s forty years ago. Back then it was a restaurant in the French Quarter. A fire took that out, and the family migrated to the DC area, where they started another restaurant. We’d become a main staple in this town.

I had spent most of my adult life protecting what she built. I knew every supplier, every manager and every dollar that moved through the flagship. Kyle had poured himself into opening Alexandria, and now our work had become a joke across the DMV because Justice Banks decided his revenge mattered more than the truth.

He had warned me that he would do it. I just hadn’t expected him to move this fast.

I looked up at Monica’s smiling face again. She had brought him into my life, then left me with a front-row seat to a love I could never have. Even from the grave, she still had a place in his house. Her pictures were on his walls. Her daughters carried her face. Her name could change his entire mood. And he still had a closet full of her shit.

I had spent years trying to honor a friendship that had left me empty. I hated Justice now. Every closure notice and every call from a frightened employee gave me another reason.

I tried to do right by her girls and keep her man loved up in her absence. In the end, it cost me everything.

“Fuck you, Monica.”

I got up and threw the frame. It struck the wall beside the fireplace, glass shattering all over the hardwood floor. The picture slipped free, landed facedown, and slid beneath a chair.

Just as I was about to go to the kitchen to pour a glass of tequila, the front door opened. It was my brother, who had a key to my house. He’d been staying at my place the last couple of days because both of us were shaken by what had happened. We needed to stick together.

Kyle came into the living room wearing a black baseball cap, a black hoodie, and matching sweats. His beard needed a lineup, and his eyes were threaded with red lines from the weed he’d been smoking. He glanced at the broken glass near the fireplace, then looked at me.

“I see you’re handling this well,” he said.

“I was having a private moment.”

“Your private moment is all over the floor.”