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“Why did your security detail flank Solomon at the wedding?” I asked him.

“What are you trying to insinuate?” he asked.

I chuckled darkly. “Maxwell, please don’t play in my face.” I wanted to shoot him where he stood, but we had bylaws and shit. “Those niggas weren’t reacting to a threat. They were standing next to a man they were paid to protect.”

“Cardez, that’s a serious accusation,’ Gilberto said.

“It’s not an accusation if it’s true.” I kept my eyes on Maxwell. “Solomon came through with military gear that your family happens to sell. He walked past security I put in place myself. Tell me what I’m missing.”

Luther shifted in his chair.

“How long were you feeding him information?” I asked.

Maxwell set his glass down. I watched the wheels turn in his head while he considered his options—deny, deflect, or stand ten toes down.

“A year,” he said.

“A year?” Gilberto balked.

“This should be good,” I said.

Maxwell straightened his cufflinks and turned to face the room. “Solomon reached out after he got released from prison. He knew what Orlando had been doing to my operation, and unlike everybody sitting in here, he was willing to help me get my territories back.”

“I know what the Table did,” I said as I sat on the arm of the couch. “You’ve been pissy about the thirty percent of your territories being taken from you, which was your fault, by the way. So, we can skip past the part where you whine about it.”

Maxwell frowned.

“What I want to know is why him? You had a real grievance, and instead of bringing it to the Table, you hand Solomon access to my family. Why?”

“Because he was the only one who wasn’t scared of going up against Orlando,” he said.

I shook my head. “He was the only one with nothing to lose. There’s a difference.”

“Every time I brought it to this table, Luther squashed it.” He laughed. “So yes, when someone offered me a solution, I listened.”

“Don’t start that revisionist history bullshit, Maxwell,” Luther said. “We made a decision to protect the flow of business since you couldn’t handle it. The Montagues were already operating on a larger scale, that’s why we gave it to them. Don’t sit here and act like you weren’t there.”

“I spoke against it for years.”

“Nigga, you grumbled about it at most. You raised concerns but never offered solutions,” Gilberto said.

“You’ve been part of the Table since before I could walk,” I said. “If you wanted your shit back so badly, you should’ve proven why you deserved it back. Hell, you could’ve come to me, Max. I’ve been running the family for two years.”

Maxwell threw up his hands. “And you would’ve done what? Been so generous you’d give me back the southern route?”

This nigga was pissing me off. Losing his territory may have cut into his bottom line, but he wasn’t hurting. His family had controlled most of Brooklyn for over two decades. He had a house on the water, a wife with a closet full of Birkins, and all his kids went to private schools. He was mad about things that were minuscule in the grand scheme of things and let it fester until Solomon came home and gave it somewhere to go.

“Doesn’t matter now,” I said. “But I still don’t get why your brilliant idea was to start a coup by killing my family at my wedding.”

“I only gave him access to Orlando. That’s it.”

“Why are you conveniently forgetting that your men flanked Solomon?” I roared as I stood. Pain shot up my arm from where the bullet grazed me.

“It wasn’t supposed to go as far as it did.”

“That nigga been having revenge wet dreams for twenty years and you just took his word this shit would be clean?” I shook my head. “You’re either a liar or just that fucking stupid. Pick one.”

“I got tired of being told to eat shit, while your family took what they wanted!” He retorted, voice rising.