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PART 1
1 LA’BELLE EVANS
JUNE 2026
Men are just a source of income. Take from them before they can take from you.
I repeated my mother’s mantra in my head while the hold music played.
“Thanks for holding. This is Patrick, how can I help you today?”
“Yeah, hi, this is Wade Johnson.” My voice came out in a deep, masculine tone to the customer rep on the other line. “I’m in a bit of a pickle here. My SIM’s dead and I’m out of town on business and need this rectified before my next meeting.”
Last night, I’d calibrated a voice-changing app to mimic Wade’s voice after feeding it a few seconds of a voice memo of him going on about his work day. Besides my streaming subscriptions and Pilates membership, it was the best $19.99 I spent a month.
“Sure, Mr. Johnson. I can help with that. For security purposes I’ll just need to verify a few things.”
“Uh huh. Go ‘head.”
The rep asked for the account PIN, last four of his Social, and date of birth. I looked at my scrap of paper, giving him all three with no hesitation and the kind of nonplussed energy I’d use to read a grocery list. His PIN was his mother’s birth year backward, which told you everything you needed to know about how seriously some of these rich niggas take their own security. I’d watched him punch that same PIN into his phone while I was pressed up against his shoulder, acting a little tipsier than I actually was when we were in Martha’s Vineyard a few weeks back.
“Great. That checked out.” I heard the click-clack of him typing on the other end. “Hm—I’m seeing a port protection lock on this line. I just need verbal confirmation that you’re asking me to lift it.”
I guess Wade wasn’t as dense as I thought he was, because I didn’t think he’d have the know-how to have this set up.
“Yes. Lift it.”
“Perfect. I can go ahead and process that SIM transfer, just need the IMEI number off the new device.”
“One sec.” I read fifteen digits off the burner that Siani had gotten me.
“Alright. Got that situated for you. This can take a few minutes to fully activate. You’ll get a text confirm—”
“Got it. ’Preciate you, boss.” I hung up before the man finished his spiel.1
The confirmation text came through five minutes later. I chewed on my bottom lip and felt that familiar sense of satisfaction settling over me as the phone restarted and all his apps popped up on mine, straight from the cloud.
Two months of dinners and mediocre dick made it all worth it when I opened his banking and brokerage apps. Between the two, there was checking, savings, and a whole money market account I didn’t know he had. Ten million across all of them, and three million was sitting in his savings account. This was more than what my mama’s second husband paid for our house in Long Island when I was in high school.
I didn’t do this because I had a rough upbringing. My mother, Regina, made sure I never wanted for anything. Her hustle was marriage. She had four of them, each husband richer than the last. And each was convinced that he was the one who’d finally tamed her. I grew up watching her get dressed for dinner parties she didn’t want to go and playing the devoted wife—right up until she was ready to collect alimony. She was still collecting from her second husband.
Marriage didn’t interest me in the least. Why deal with prenups and lawyers accusing you of being a gold digger when I could take what I wanted and move on to the next one?
I sipped my coffee as I wired fifty thousand dollars to the shell company account my cousin Jody had set up for me.
I spent another twenty minutes looking through his apps and sent myself a thousand dollars just ‘cause before logging out of everything and resetting the phone to factory settings. Wade was probably losing his mind realizing his phone was bricked and useless. Dah well. When I was done, I tossed the phone in my side drawer with my other two burners.
Before I left for work, I blocked Wade’s number. Shontrelle—the woman he’d been falling for for the last two months—would be just another disappearing act, gone like she never existed.
The club hadn’t even opened yet and it was already testing my patience. The delivery truck with this weekend’s liquor order was double parked out front, hazards on, and Jermaine, my liquor rep, was nowhere to be found.
“I swear to God, I’m gonna fuck this nigga up,” I grumbled to myself as I pulled into the parking garage across the street.
Inside, Siani was fussing with one of the girls about section assignments.
“If you have a problem, then take it up with La’Belle.”
“Take what up with me?” I asked as I set my purse on the bar top.
