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“You right, and maybe that’s the fucking problem,” I said.

His jaw tightened.

“All the bullshit I’ve been dealing with for almost a year goes back to you. Things you should’ve told me about years ago. I can’t protect the family from what I can’t see coming, Pop. You got me out here blind.”

“I was protecting you.”

“From what?” I yelled. “You ain’t think this nigga was gonna come out and want your fucking head? Did you even have a plan in place? You were protecting yourself and your fucking seat, ‘cause you know damn well the Table wouldn’t take kindly to a boss letting personal shit put the family at risk.”

We stood there looking at each other. My heart was pounding; my fists balled at my sides.

We were two men who loved each other and were five minutes away from not being able to stand in the same room.

I could see the war happening behind his eyes. Part of him wanted to hit me for talking to him crazy. The other part knew I was right.

“Solomon’s not gonna stop until you’re dead,” I continued. “He’s got a crew, he’s got information, and I can’t deal with this the way I need to if I’m still an underboss. Our allies still see me as just your son. Now I gotta worry about whatever else you got buried that might come out.”

He was quiet for a long time before heading back to the wet bar to refill his glass. “What are you saying?”

“It’s time for a full transition. I need the Table to recognize me as the head of the family.”

“You know what that requires.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah.”

“So, you’re ready to get married?” he asked.

I licked my lips as Belle’s face flashed across my mind. Her in my clothes at the kitchen island while I made her breakfast. The way it all felt so natural this morning.

Marriage in our world didn’t care about all that. This was about power and leverage. Not love, but an asset. No one cared about my happiness. They cared about structure and the appearance of stability. And Belle was an outsider. To them she’d be a nobody.

“I’m saying I’ll handle it on my own terms,” I told him.

“The Table isn’t going to accept that girl you brought last night, Cardez.”

“Them old niggas will accept who I tell them to accept, or you can clean this shit up yourself. When’s the last time you went to war, Pop?”

I was talking bigger than my position allowed. But I didn’t care. I meant every word, and he could see it on my face. My father wasn’t an old man. He could still hold his own. But he’d all but handed me the family to run, while keeping marriage over my head as a condition for months.

Now I was holding his secrets over his. Not as a threat—I’d never do that to him—but as a reality. We both knew he needed me more than I needed him.

“Your grandfather built this family from nothing,” he said.

“I know.”

“Then you understand why this can’t just be about what you want.”

“It’s not just about what I want.” I met his eyes. “But it’s not going to be about what Table wants either. Not anymore.”

I left his office without waiting for him to say anything else. The house felt too big all of a sudden, too full of ghosts. My mother’s, and whatever my father used to be before his secrets turned him into this person I barely recognized.

I stood on the porch and checked my phone. Three missed calls from Yomi and a text from Marco.

Marriage wasn’t optional anymore. I’d been brushing it off, but this beef between Solomon and my pops made it abundantly clear that I needed full control, and soon.

This morning Belle had agreed to be my girl. Barely. That hesitation still hadn’t been addressed, and neither had the fake name, or the burners. Now I was supposed to add a marriage conversation on top of all that?

She’d either think I was crazy or that I was using her. Either way, it would end with her running, and I’d just gotten her to stay.