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“Never mind. Make sure you keep your head on a swivel. That nigga is just waiting for the right opportunity to do some shit again.”
I turned the situation with Belle over in my head while he finished his drink. The options were simple enough—kill her or make her pay back every dollar and cut her off.
The problem was I didn’t want to do any of that.
How could I handle this without looking like a clown?
I hit the blunt again and exhaled, looking at Pops through the smoke.
“Would you have left Ma if you found out about the affair before she died?”
“Why?”
“Just answer the question.”
“No,” he said.
“Even though she might’ve been in love with someone else?”
“Our marriage was bigger than an affair.” He steepled his hands. “The merging of our families helped solidify the Montague Empire. Love is one thing. Legacy is another. Sometimes you pick the latter even when love makes it hard.”
“Damn, that was a bar, old man,” I said.
“Why are you asking me this?”
“You remember Belle from the gala.”
“I do.”
“There’s a situation.”
He tilted his head. “Obviously not a good one.”
“I’m going to tell the Table we’re getting married. They get what they want, and I take over the family. And you get to do whatever retired niggas do.”
He hummed and looked out at the yard. “La’Belle Evans—she's the one, huh?”
Even if I picked somebody from a made family, it was never gonna be about love. I needed my house in order, and Belle needed to pay for what she did.
Pops looked up at me. “She going to agree to this?”
“She will.”
He nodded. He knew there was no talking me out of it. I dapped him up and left.
Belle made her choices.
Now I was making mine.
24 LA’BELLE EVANS
The reservation at Parkside was the first red flag. 1
That place was booked through Christmas, and he’d texted me on a Tuesday about going that Friday. Cardez had all kinds of connections, so him getting us a table wasn’t out of the ordinary.
What didn’t track was him pulling strings for one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city after going almost a week without calling me and then giving me dry-ass responses every time I reached out.
My intuition was telling me to abort mission, but I chalked it up to anxiety. What if this was his way of showing he was serious about us getting back to a good place? I didn’t have a playbook for dealing with a man who was upset with me.
