Page 41 of A Don & His Doll

For the first time in her life, Monae questioned everything she'd been told because if her father was really as powerful as everyone claimed, why were they in this predicament? Backing away from the door, Monae took a seat in the center of her bed and prayed for God to send his angels or her father quickly to save and protect them.

Tears filled Monae’s eyes as she folded her hands together. "Please, God," she whispered. "Bring my daddy back to us."

Monae prayed for the father she'd spent her entire life waiting to meet because somewhere deep inside her spirit she had a feeling time was running out.

The Black Family Empire had survived wars, indictments, betrayals, and bloodshed. Men had died for it, women had sacrificed for it, and entire generations had dedicated their lives to preserving it. Power like that wasn't built overnight, and neither could it ever be maintained by weak leadership. The private headquarters building sat on the outskirts of Manhattan, towering over the city, and everything the Black Family owned and controlled. From the outside looking in, it appeared to be just another luxury corporate building. Those who were inside, however, understood that decisions were made every day that influenced streets from New York to Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, and beyond.

Monroe had called an impromptu meeting, and by seven o'clock Thursday morning, every high-ranking member and crew leader who was connected to the Black Family Empire had taken their seat inside the massive conference room. The conference room itself was so prestigious it reflected the empire it represented. There were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Manhattan skyline, dark wood paneling lined the walls, and a custom black marble conference table that stretched through the center of the room, surrounded by men and women whose names carried weight in cities all across the country. Conversations remained low, controlled, and respectful. The atmosphere was tense because no one knew what was coming, but everyone sensed change.

When the double doors opened, every head in the room turned. Mitch entered first, then Monroe followed directly behind him. The shift in energy was immediate. Respect wasn't requested, it was automatic when it came to Mitchelle Black Sr. and Monroe Black Jr. There were a few eyes that lingered at the door, waiting for Macie to walk in next, but she never did.

Mitch moved with the confidence of a man who had never forgotten who he was despite spending years behind prison walls. Time had changed many things, but it hadn't touched his aura or authority. Monroe walked beside him in complete silence, and his expression remained unreadable. His tailored black suit fit perfectly, his posture remained strong, and his face gave nothing away. Nobody sitting in that room knew the storm brewing inside him, but business always came first. Personal problems could wait.

Mitch took his seat at the head of the table. The seat that had always belonged to him, even though Macie had occupied it during his absence. The symbolism wasn't lost on anyone. His eyes swept across the room slowly, and Monroe stood assessing, and reading the reactions of everyone in the room the same way his father and grandfather had taught him.

"We gon' keep this short," Monroe stated, his voice carrying effortlessly throughout the conference room, commanding the attention of everyone in attendance. "Y'all know my uncle Mitch recently came home."

Several heads nodded.

"Effective immediately, Mitch will resume his position as head CEO of the Black Family Empire, and I will become second in command." Respectful silence followed because most of the people present had expected this announcement eventually, but hearing it made it official.

Monroe continued. "All decisions, operations, and business dealings must be approved by him and myself only."

Again, nobody objected or questioned it because all who sat at the table understood hierarchy, protocol, and consequences. Mitch observed quietly while Monroe handled the room. Pride settled inside his chest because all the deposits he’d made into his nephew had paid off, and the proof was tangible. Monroe had done well to lead an entire empire creating substantial, generational wealth for their entire bloodline. That wasn't something he took lightly.

Monroe paused briefly. "As of today, Macie Black no longer holds head position, and no longer has any authority within this organization."

The room went still with the exception of several crew leaders who had exchanged quick glances while others remained expressionless; but they continued to listen.

Macie's name had carried a lot of power, and for years she had been the face of the organization, so the decision to remove her wasn't small. It was monumental, but Monroe remained stoic. Despite the respect she had gained from many within the organization, her actions had been foul, and her time had expired.

"Any business conducted through Macie moving forward is unauthorized, and consequences will be enforced," Monroe’s told them seriously, but his tone, though calm, was lethal. "If she contacts any of you concerning organizational matters, you report it directly to Mitch or myself."

That statement was so clear it left no room for false interpretation. Macie was out.

"You expect any problems?" One of the crew members spoke out, needing to know how to prepare himself.

"Nah," Monroe answered without thinking twice, but whether Monroe believed it or not remained unclear. His confidence settled the room immediately because if Monroe wasn't worried, nobody else would be either.

Mitch leaned forward. "The empire ain't changing." His deep baritone carried authority that demanded attention. "The leadership structure has been corrected, but business will remain the same."

Several heads nodded as the tension eased slightly. That was all everyone needed to hear. The direction of the Black Family Empire was sure, and its stability had been enforced with every intention of remaining consistent. The meeting moved forward, numbers were discussed, territories reviewed, financial projections examined, and crew leaders delivered reports. Monroe participated when necessary, but his mind occasionally drifted, but not enough to impact business. Eventually the meeting began winding down. Mitch stood, immediately reclaiming everyone's attention.

"Before we dismiss, “ he paused as the room quieted again. "Zo, I need you to take over the logistics in Atlanta. Can you handle that?"

Zo nodded. "Already."

"Junie, I need you to oversee Chicago operations. You got it?"

"I gotcha, Boss man."

Mitch continued delegating responsibilities, redistributing authority, and strengthening the foundation beneath their organization, but the process was smooth. And for the first time since returning home, Mitch looked completely settled in his position. He was like a king finally sitting back on his throne.

Monroe watched everything quietly. This was how it was supposed to be. This was how his grandfather had designed it. His phone vibrated against the conference table. The sound was subtle, but Monroe noticed immediately. When his eyes dropped to the screen, a knot formed instantly in his chest at the sight of Promise’s text notification. Mitch kept speaking, and no one noticed Monroe's attention shift when he opened the message.

I’m thinking of you. I’m here when you’re ready to talk.

There were no accusations. No questions. No pressure. Just a lifeline. Monroe stared at the message longer than he intended. Guilt settled heavily in his chest because Promise deserved more than the version of him she'd received. She’d given him space without any of the answers she deserved, and still willing to talk to him after he’d shown his entire ass for no reason. She deserved honesty and clarity, but Monroe had given her silence, distance, and confusion instead. But, beyond the anger and deception and everything else happening around him, Promise’s simple text had come right on time.