Page 39 of A Don & His Doll

Monroe’s jaw tightened. “Nah. A nigga gotta make it right wit’ her. She tried to talk to me,” Monroe admitted. “Tried to figure out what was wrong, and I flipped the shit into some other shit.”

Mitch shook his head slightly. “She ain’t deserve that.”

“I know. That’s what make the shit worse.” Monroe said quickly, guilt flashing across his face.

Promise was innocent in all of this, but she was standing directly in the path of a storm Macie had created years ago. Monroe knew that. Mitch knew that. Yet, neither man had an easy answer for it.

“I love her, Unc,” Monroe confessed out loud for the very first time.

Mitch looked at him. “I know.”

Monroe swallowed hard. “But Sienna…” He didn’t finish. Didn’t have to.

Mitch understood.

Sienna was grief resurrected.

A wound reopened. A love that had never ended properly because it had been violently stolen instead. Promise was present, peace, future. Sienna was history, pain, unfinished business, and now the mother of his child. Macie had created a war no gun could solve.

“Don’t make no decisions tonight,” Mitch said firmly.

Monroe looked at him, but didn’t speak.

“You hear me? Not about Promise, Sienna, or Macie,” Mitch wisely advised. “Not while you bleedin’, nephew. I know you fucked up right now, but this situation gotta be handled with precision and care. And, when it come to your daughter… Man, you gotta handle her wit’ a light touch.”

Monroe’s nostrils flared, but he listened and understood.

“You’ve always been a real man, and I know how hard it is not to become a weapon,” Mitch paused, then continued. “Even if you gotta step away from all this shit for a minute, then come back and decide what kind of damage need to be done. Just take your time. I got you no matter what.”

When Mitch looked in Monroe’s eyes, he already knew his nephew had crossed into a place nobody would be able to easily pull him from. Monroe wasn’t just hurt, his eyes had been opened. Monroe stared at him for a moment, then he nodded, but the rage in his eyes didn’t fade. It settled for the time being, but once a man like Monroe opened his eyes to betrayal, forgiveness became damn near impossible.

“Macie needs to be watched.”

“Already got it covered.”

Monroe didn’t need details. For the first time all night, the smallest trace of alignment settled between them. His pain was still present, the betrayal still thick, but direction was beginning to form. Mitch and Monroe were the head of the family, and Macie had underestimated both of them, especially Monroe.

“I ain’t stopping until I know everything.”

Mitch nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Outside, rain continued falling over the city, washing the streets clean while sin still moved beneath the surface. As Monroe stood in the middle of the wreckage of his own life, there was one thing that was abundantly clear. His mother could never be trusted again.

Control could be both powerful and dangerous depending on who's hands held it. For decades, power had been the only thing she trusted. Men lied. Loyalty shifted. Love made people weak. But power… Power never changed hands unless somebody took it from you. However, as Macie stood in the mirror smoothing her red lips together after applying a fresh coat of Ruby Woo Mac Lipstick. Her beauty had matured into something commanding. The type of beauty that made people lower their eyes without realizing they were doing it. She had spent years cultivating that image.

Nevertheless, as simple as it should have been, she couldn't decide which was worse–losing control of the family empire, or losing her son. Her life had undoubtedly changed when her late husband died, and though grief had nearly swallowed her whole, she’d clawed her way through for the greater good. Losing him had felt like losing the foundation beneath her feet. But before he took his final breath, he'd left her something that she'd fiercely held on to with every ounce of strength she had, and a ruthlessness that few could fathom.

Control.

Power.

Respect.

Macie had it all, but had lost herself in the midst of a purpose that didn't belong to her. What had started out as her keeping her late husband's legacy alive, had resulted in her cashing out on a debt she'd never be able to repay. Macie had lived the life of a queenpin and had done it with a level of class that was admirable, but her mind had shifted in a way that made her look at everyone as expendable, even her son. She often thought of her husband's words before he died... Life is a game, Macie. The ones who win are the ones who play it the best. We undefeated.

Her gaze never left the mirror as she sprayed herself generously with Amouage Honor 43 while smiling at the memory. Yet beneath the designer clothes, diamonds, and polished exterior lived someone who no longer recognized where the mission ended, and obsession and greed began. Somehow what started as preserving her husband's legacy had evolved into something far uglier. As she put the perfume back in its place on her dresser, she turned to grab her phone from her bed.

Without thinking, she pressed Abel's contact, and held the phone as it rang one too many times. When reality landed, she froze. Abel was indeed dead and never coming back. The reality of his death still hadn't fully settled, not because she loved him, or because she was lost in grief. Macie wasn't even sure she knew what love looked like anymore, but Abel had belonged to her, and had been useful. He was not only a trusted ally, he'd become her secret lover over the years. Macie hung up, remembering that Mitch had taken him from her.