Zeke
Sunday | 9:06am
The house wasquiet, but it was anything but peaceful. This Sunday was different. There was no gospel playing through the speakers or scriptures cycling through the intercom. There were no staff footprints as they prepared the sanctuary. Everything had been cancelled.
I stood in the foyer and listened. All I could hear was that old grandfather clock ticking behind me. The same one my grandfather owned back in ’63. It had never missed a beat. That clock had one job: to remind you that time was always moving, whether you were ready or not. That sound used to calm me. Now it was pissing me the fuck off.
I adjusted the gold cross around my neck and slowly walked down the front hall. My robe swayed behind me, all black silk, perfectly pressed. I walked into the living room and found Evelyn sitting on the edge of the couch, as if she were waiting to be told what to do next. Her hands were wringing the hem of her blouse. Her lips were tight, and I could tell she’d just finished crying.
“You haven’t said a word since our daughter was taken,” she finally said. “Not one, Zeke.”
I didn’t answer right away, swallowing hard against the pressure building in my chest. I sat down across from her, adjusted my robe, steepled my fingers, and looked her in the eye. “Princess is fine.”
“Fine?” Her voice jumped. “We don’t even know where she is!”
“I do.”
She froze, pain flickering across her face as she paused before speaking. “You… you knew,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You good and wellknewthis would happen.”
“I didn’t plan it, Evie,” I said flatly, my jaw tight with frustration. “But I knew things might get crazy if I didn’t get a handle on it soon.”
She stood. “Get a handle on it? That’s all this is to you? A business deal gone bad? She’s our daughter!”
I didn’t move. “It’s a debt, and debts get paid one way or another.”
Evelyn stared at me like I was something foreign sitting before her, tears shining in her eyes. “A debt,” she repeated, voice cracking. “You risked her life over a fucking debt!”
I sighed and rubbed my temple. “Keep your voice down.”
“Keep my…?!” she snapped. “She’s yourdaughter!”
I looked at her and said what I meant. “Exactly, and I’ll fix this.”
She didn’t speak right away. She just stared; her silence was louder than any scream, her eyes brimming with hurt and betrayal. “Fix it?” she said, voice trembling. “With more lies? More backdoor meetings? The same dirty hands you lift to pray?” I let her vent, anger and disappointment coloring her every word. She shook her head, jaw clenched. “I should’ve left years ago.”
I smiled. Barely. “But you didn’t.”
“I regret it every day.”
“Baby, you’re upset, so I’ll forgive your words.”
“I don’t want yourforgiveness,” she said. “I want my daughter back. And if you don’t fix this, I’ll go to the police. The press. I’ll tell them everything I know or have seen.”
That got my attention, and my smile disappeared as a cold knot twisted in my chest. She was bluffing; I could see the strain in her eyes. She didn’t have it in her. But I couldn’t be sure, uncertainty prickling at the back of my mind. I stood and walked toward her, close enough for her to feel the tension rolling off me.
“You take one step out of this house trying to destroy what I’ve built,” I said calmly, “you won’t make it to the end of the driveway.”
She froze. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” I asked. “This empire stands because I handle threats. Don’t become one, not now.”
She took a step back, as if my presence alone burned her. “Get her back, Ezekiel,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“I will,” I said.
Shaking her head, Evelyn turned and walked off, her heels echoing against the floor. I didn’t stop her. She’d stay. She always did, even when I fucked up. I sat back down, pulled out my cell phone, and scrolled through my recent calls. Don answered on the second ring, already shouting.
“Zeke, what the fuck?”
“We need to talk,” I said evenly. My mask slipped back on. Nyce made his move; now it was my turn.
