I stood and walked to the window, looking out at the Garden District in the early morning light. The streets were empty. The mansions quiet. Everything perfectly controlled.
Just like my life.
Just like this contract.
I turned back to the desk and picked up the file one more time.
Truth Renois.
In six hours, she’d walk through my door. Raymond would ask his questions. I’d sit there and watch her, looking for cracks, for lies, for anything that told me she wasn’t what I needed.
And if she passed?
I’d offer her $250,000 to carry my child.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
This wasn’t about her kindness or her light or the way her eyes looked in a photograph.
This was about legacy. About the Landry name surviving. About proving I wasn’t broken in the one way that mattered most.
I closed the file and locked it back in the drawer.
By the time she arrived, I’d have my walls back up.
By the time she left, I’d know if she was the one.
And if she wasn’t, I’d keep searching.
Because I didn’t have a choice.
I didn’t get to want things.
I only got to take them.
The hours crawled.
I tried to fill them with work—the kind of work that usually consumed me completely, the kind that required precision and focus and left no room for distraction.
It didn’t work.
At 7:15 AM, I called Priest.
“Talk to me,” I said when he answered.
“About what?” His voice was rough with sleep. I’d woken him up.
“Anything. The docks. Rahsaan. That shipment coming in next Thursday.”
There was a pause. Then: “You good?”
“I’m fine. Just give me the update.”
Priest sighed. “Docks are quiet. Rahsaan’s people been sniffing around the Bywater territory, but nothing serious yet. Thursday’s shipment is on schedule—Dominic’s handling it personally after yesterday.”
I almost smiled at that. Dominic would be handling everything personally for a while.
