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Bianca was gathering Ares’ most dangerous ex-girlfriends and trying to build a case around the NDAs and compensation packages they received when their relationships with him ended.

Interesting.

I looked toward the bedroom where she was still sleeping, probably believing she had come to Paris and made a few moves of her own without me knowing.

Bianca thought she still had control.

What she didn’t understand was that I never expected her to sit around waiting on me to tell her what to do. I needed her angry enough to move on her own because whatever she started would look like it belonged to her.

Nobody would have a reason to look at me.

Bianca wasn’t the strategist in any of this. She was my opening move, and she had already put herself exactly where I needed her.

If Lyric and Leona answered that email, Bianca was about to become a much bigger problem for Ares than she realized.

CHAPTER 13

Vivi

“I Remember Everything”

It had been five days since Marcel had my son lock into a commitment with a broken woman, and I was finally able to see him while he was alone.

I always thought men like Marcel didn’t sleep, but even in his slumber, I could tell he wanted to be up and handling business. That was all he cared about. Business was the reason I was in an arranged marriage at seventeen and didn’t escape until I was twenty-three.

Thanks to the love of my life, even today, Big Ghost, Ares’ father. Even in death, I thanked him for saving me at my lowest. He opened a secret overseas account for me so I could plan my escape. Big Ghost was very close to my brother, and he would send me to the United States to give Ghost products. I got to know him every trip in ways that cost a lot of time and could have gotten us killed. But Ghost showed my family he got what he wanted and was bigger than the program.

The night I ran, I flew to LAX and Ghost picked me up. My safe house was in Compton, CA, and it was the safest house I ever lived in. Ghost made sure I was untouchable. My ex-husband nor my father couldn’t touch me when I lived in the heart of Ghost’s city.

He always told me, “Nobody can touch you here,” and he meant that. So much so, he went to war over me, killing my ex-husband and letting Marcel cut off his plug. Ghost thugged it out, though. Got a new plug. I never went back to France and never left Compton.

I knew Ghost was married. I still chose to be his mistress and have his first son, his first child before his two daughters with his wife. What we had was deeper than him cheating on his wife. Ghost made sure Ares was outside. No one dared to question who he came from. He went to public school, but I knew as long as my son was a Delacroix-Jackson, he was going to grow into royalty.

I taught him proper French, taught him etiquette on how to be a French man, told him about his heritage, and what he was born into. Then Ghost got killed. Found out it was his own family member who killed him. That’s when I knew I had to start pushing my son in the mindset of a leader, and I had to make amends with Marcel. Especially when I found out he was in the early stages of sickness, and Ares was in his will as his heir.

My son needed to step into his position early, so I pushed my heart to the side. But I never ever forgave. That was the part Marcel missed because back then he didn’t love. He did business.

Now I was here, being the loving daughter. Part of that love was because my mother still loved Marcel, and it made her happy seeing me back around. It had been 14 years since I’d been back around Marcel, since Ares had been running circles around the Delacroix and Jackson family.

I looked at Marcel. This was the man who chose legacy over me. This was the man who made me a bride at seventeen, where I was raped, beaten into submission, and waved around like a prop trophy wife.

That’s why I wanted to talk to him about Azaria and the Laveau family. I knew her and the family since she was born. I knew she might be the chosen one. And the only reason she didn’t marry at 17 is because the younger generation had a backbone. Ares never wanted to marry. So things got held off for decades, until Marcel saw a crack to slide into to force him.

I stood up and walked over to his bed.

“You could have stopped it,” I whispered. “You could have said no.”

I just couldn’t get over it, and Azaria’s situation was triggering. Marcel needed to know how I felt as an almost fifty-five-year-old woman.

Marcel finally opened his eyes. He looked at me and smirked.

“You people are always watching me,” he said jokingly.

I smiled. “We have to. We know how you like to sneak off.”

“I have to.” I watched his eyes land on my necklace.

Marcel’s eyes stayed on my necklace longer than they stayed on me.