Zeke
Sunday | 5:10pm
The Magnolia Grand Hotelballroom looked exactly how money should. Marble floors shone. Gold accents lined every surface. Tablecloths were starched so sharply that they could cut. Crystal chandeliers overhead blazed, like they had something to prove.
Everything here screamed perfection and perfect distractions. I’d been in enough rooms like this to know the routine: shake hands, smile on cue, quote scripture just enough to remind them who I was. Tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, I just tried not to sweat through a five-thousand-dollar suit.
I moved through the crowd like I always did with my chin up, smile polished, and shoulders squared. I took measured steps with a kind of presence that made people think you were in control, even when the floor was collapsing beneath you.
It had been twenty-seven hours since Nyce snatched Princess and Don got on live television, lying straight through his damn teeth.
“My fiancé, Princess Montgomery, is temporarily away due to personal matters. The wedding has been postponed due to unforeseen circumstances.”
Unforeseen. Yeah, fucking right.Here I was, pretending, laughing, toasting. Mingling with men who met my eyes but said nothing. I knew exactly what they were thinking.
I took a sip of champagne and swallowed it like poison as I crossed the room when I spotted Don. He was front and center in a circle of investors, laughing like nothing ever touched him. His suit was perfect, and his smile was gleaming white. This muthafucka was putting on the grandest of acts. I set my glass down, adjusted my cuffs, and walked toward him.
“Good evening, councilman,” I said with my voice sharp and steady when I reached the group.
Don turned with his smile never slipping, but his eyes told the truth. He saw the same storm coming that I did. “Pastor Montgomery,” he said, loud and warm like we weren’t both standing on a cliff. He clapped a hand on my shoulder like we were old friends. “Man of the hour.”
I gave him a clipped smile. “May I have a moment of your time?”
He nodded to his circle. “Gentlemen. The pastor and I have some church business to discuss.” They cleared out quickly, and as soon as we stepped off to the side, Don’s whole demeanor changed. His smile was gone, and his voice was low. “You’re bleeding out, Montgomery,” he said. “I’ve spent all damn daycleaning up your bullshit. That little PR stunt I pulled bought us some time, but it’s not gonna last.”
I kept my expression neutral. “I appreciate that.”
“If we don’t get ahead of this, it all unravels. The public’s already sniffing. When something doesn’t add up, they fill in the blanks.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I came to you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“I need a loan.”
The pause between us was immediate. “A loan?” he repeated.
“Not the full amount,” I clarified. “Just enough to open the door. I can come up with the rest. I just need a down payment.”
Don stared at me like I was a rookie. “And what do I get for bankrolling a ransom?”
“My daughter,” I said quietly.
He laughed once, but there was no humor behind it. “You say that like she’s a return on an investment.” I didn’t say anything. I just held his gaze. “And what happens when it doesn’t work?” he asked. “You hand over the money, and he decides to keep her. What then? What happens when this all lands in my lap and I gotta explain why I backed a scandal instead of a ceremony?”
“I won’t let it get that far.”
“You already let it get this fucking far,” he said, teeth clenched. I kept my jaw locked, and my hands were tight at mysides. “You were supposed to deliver me a wife,” he said. “Not a PR crisis and gangsta bullshit.”
The words hit harder than I let on, but I wasn’t about to beg this nigga. “You’ll have the money back, Don,” I said. “You have my word.”
He didn’t respond right away. He just stared at me, then pulled his phone out, typed something, and slipped it back into his jacket. “You’ll get half by tomorrow morning,” he said. “The rest is your problem.”
I nodded once. “Understood.”
He leaned in, voice dropping. “I want my bride, Zeke.”
I swallowed the heat in my throat. “You’ll have her.”
“I better.” He walked off without another word while I stayed still.
For the first time in a long time, I felt utterly lost, a heavy emptiness settling in my chest. No scripture could patch this, and no sermon could fix what came next; all I could feel was a raw, sinking helplessness.
