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Their faces shifted. I could tell they were hurt, pride, and angered—all of it.

“But all that ended when y’all dragged me into the blogs. Made me look sloppy. Like I don’t run my world with precision. Like I’m some weak nigga drowning in pussy.”

I let the words hang.

“No more.”

I stood, circling the table slow, dropping a single rose in front of them. “Here’s what’s happening. Listen carefully, don’t dare talk.”

“You walk away with no feelings. You take a package with money, security, NDAs, your reputation intact, and your businesses. You’ll leave with enough to keep your name shining, but you’ll never see me again. Ever.”

I stopped behind Bianca, close enough for her to feel my breath. “Don’t fight this. Take the money. You know who you are.”

I moved to Lyric, a smirk tugging at my mouth. “So, leave and don’t let it get ugly.”

Leona tried to laugh it off, but it came out brittle. Amara stared at her lap. Naomi held my gaze.

I walked back to my seat, sat down, and poured another drink like nothing had happened.

I raised my glass, mocking, daring. “I know it hurts. Pray about it. See a therapist… do what the fuck you gotta do. May your lives be good without me. Now, eat up. Drink up. Then you are dismissed. I will be in touch about those packages, and no running to the internet, unless you want your package to go towards your funeral.”

Not a single one of them raised their glass back.

Good.

Fear tasted better than wine.

CHAPTER 10

Naomi

“I Was Never Just One of Them”

Ares was long gone by the time me and the other bitches started leaving the dining room one by one. Some of them stayed, eating as if it were their first and last luxury meal. Not me. I couldn’t eat a plate that basically screamed ‘Fuck you, you’re dismissed’ all over it.

I knew this day would come.

Knew eventually he would realize he had too much on his plate… and a bunch of hungry bitches was at the top of the list that had to go.

I walked out of his label calm, head held high. I wasn’t about to let other women see me cracking. Not when I’d known him as a teenager. Not when I’d been the one wiping his tears back when he was Lil Ghost, sitting in my shop chair with a busted lip and too much to say.

I got to my Porsche truck and slid behind the wheel, letting out a slow breath before clicking FaceTime. He picked up on the second ring—my real boyfriend, Trevon. The one nobody knew about. The one I kept tucked far away from Ares’ rules because I was never any man’s fool.

He was a sexy ass mechanic from South Central, low-key, older, and allergic to social media. Exactly what I needed full-time after Ares.

“Why haven’t I seen or heard from you in days again, woman?” he asked, raising an eyebrow on the screen. “I thought we agreed you would at least call a nigga.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. Life been lifing.” I paused. “And⁠—”

“And you were with him. I get it. It’s the money.”

“No. It’s not that,” I said quickly. “And he’s no longer. I promise. It’s just us moving forward.”

“Show me,” he said.

“I can start tonight. I’m hungry. Come to my place so I can cook for you. And don’t think about leaving. Pack a bag.”

He smirked. “A’ight, Naomi. I’ll pop in in two hours.”