Page 233 of The Wright Man

She smiled, soft and fake. "But hey... I get it. Sometimes when a woman loses everything, she needs to feel wanted by someone. Even if it's a rebound."

The girls didn't even wait for me to respond.

Alicia let out a low ooh, bitch and crossed her arms. "Not this groupie trying to name-drop the husband she had to steal," she muttered.

Imani rolled her eyes. "Looking like a knockoff Nia Long in a Shein two-piece. Girl, if you don't carry that fetus and that mouth right on outta here—"

Kia clucked her tongue and flanked my left like a damn lioness.

And then Tina. Lord. Tina took one threatening step forward, voice dropping into that deadly calm tone that always meant chaos was coming. "I don't give a fuck if you're pregnant," she said. "I know fifty ways to knock your ass into next week without touching that baby. Please try me—I got bail money in every currency. And tell Vinnie I got something for his ass too."

Jasmine flinched. For the first time, that slick little smirk faltered.

But I didn't move. Not right away. I just looked at her. At her big belly, her glistening lip gloss, her tired attempt at acting unbothered while surrounded by a circle of women who would've gladly escorted her out with hot combs and prayer oil.

I didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just watched her with fury burning slow behind my ribs.

When I finally stepped forward, everything in me settled. My voice came out smooth. Calm. Velvet over steel.

"You really thought you won something?"

Jasmine blinked.

"You think you're special? You think getting pregnant by a married man and sliding into the house I left makes you somebody?"

I took another step closer. Not enough to crowd her, but enough that she couldn't pretend she wasn't listening.

"Whoring yourself out to a man who couldn't even keep me miserable—me, the girl who tried to love him through everything—doesn't make you powerful. It makes you pitiful. Especially when you're only there because he got caught. You're not the upgrade, Jasmine. You're what's left."

I saw her throat bob when she swallowed, but I didn't stop. Couldn't.

"You don't get to come into my space. Not now. Not ever. So take your fake smile, whatever miserable fantasy you're building for that baby, and get the fuck out of my salon. Go run back to my sorry-ass ex and tell him he's still losing. I'm handling things just fine."

For a moment, it was so quiet you could hear a hot comb sizzle.

Then Jasmine scoffed—just loud enough to save face—and mumbled something under her breath about me being bitter before backing out the door with that chip on her shoulder and her pride in pieces. Good. Let her take all that entitlement with her.

The moment she left, my girls snapped into action like clockwork.

"You okay?" Alicia asked, touching my arm gently.

"I'll kick her ass in the parking lot if she even lingers," Imani offered. "Just say the word."

Tina was still fuming beside me. "You should've let me get just one hit. One little trip-and-fall. A love tap. That baby wouldn't have felt a thing."

I shook my head, letting out a dry, breathy laugh. "Y'all are outta pocket."

"And are," Tina said with a wink, looping her arm through mine like she was my overprotective big sister and bouncer rolled into one. "Come on. Let's get you some water before your pressure gets high. That bitch tried it."

We walked back toward my office together, and the moment the door clicked shut behind me, I leaned against it and exhaled. Deep. Long. Controlled. My phone buzzed in my hand.

It was Maleek.

Maleek :

With a client right now. Will call as soon as I'm done. Everything good?

I stared at his message for a moment, then typed back: