I didn’t say much when I got out of the car; I just made sure Domino saw mefirst.
And he did.
Inside, everything moved. Music played low, glasses clinked, women planted kisses to my father’s cheek and laughed as though they didn’t have a care in the world. Men greeted him with respectful nods and just enough caution to let me know they knew exactly who he was.
My father was loved, but he was feared more.
Roughly thirty minutes being there, my father stood next to me and raised his glass to speak.
“Good evening,” he commanded everyone’s attention without effort. “You all know what I’ve built, the risks I’ve taken and the decisions I’ve made that most people wouldn’t have the stomach for.”
A few quiet chuckles rippled through the crowd.
“That part of my life has always been loud… visible… and measured in wins, losses and power.”
He paused, and for a second, his hand tightened slightly around the mic.
“But the things that matter the most? They’re usually the things we protect the hardest and speak on the least.”
His eyes found mine.
“And that’s where I’ve made my mistakes. I spent a long time believing that providing was enough and that buildingsomething great excused not always being present for the people I was building it for. Money will come. Power will come. Respect will come… and it will go just as fast if you let it define you.”
A few heads nodded in the crowd.
“But time?” he scoffed, shaking his head slightly. “Time doesn’t wait on nobody… not for wealth…. not for status… not for pride.”
His gaze shifted briefly, landing on Domino, then back to me.
“And the people you love…” he continued, voice lowering just enough to make everybody lean in, “they won’t always say what they need from you. Sometimes, they just wait… quietly. So if you got people in your life that matter, don’t just provide for them, be there. Speak to them... show them. Because one day… you might not get the chance to make up for what you didn’t give.”
Something in his tone brushed against something deeper; something I couldn’t name, but I felt it.
“And family…” he added, exhaling softly. “Family is the only thing that makes any of this worth it… not the money… not the titles… not the fear people attach to your name.”
His eyes came back to me.
“It’s them.”
Silence wrapped around the room. Then, just like that, the moment tucked away like it never happened.
“That being said,” he finished, voice returning to that familiar authority, “I want you all to recognize the future of my name… and someone I should’ve shown more of a long time ago.”
He extended his hand toward me.
“Tonight, I want to formally introduce my daughter, Ajori.”
I forced a smile as the crowd clapped happily.
My father looked so proud. But all I could focus on was the way he looked at me. It was like he was trying to tell me something without saying it out loud.
A few minutes after all the excitement died down, a fine ass man, appearing to be around my age and reeking of inherited money and danger, approached me. He picked my hand up and kissed it, letting his lips linger.
“Dios mío,” he said, eyes dragging over me. “You’re beautiful.”
“Gracias… y tú no te ves nada mal tampoco,” I replied smoothly, tilting my head with a soft smile.
(Thank you… and you don’t look bad yourself either.)
