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From inside the mansion, Lakelyn and Willow were still standing near the front window watching him. To them, Father Maxwell had just spent several minutes beside his car talking to absolutely nobody… just standing there, his mouth moving, his hands gesturing, having a full conversation with thin air.

Willow leaned closer to the glass, her breath fogging it slightly. “He’s been out there talking to the air for a minute.”

Lakelyn shrugged, her arms crossed. “Maybe he’s praying. Could be something he does after blessing a house.”

“Caspian, you don’t have to threaten me,” Marcellus said, regaining my attention. His voice was quiet, earnest. “I have worked too hard to become someone my family can be proud of. I know what I was, and I know what I did. I don’t make excuses for any of it. But I am not that man anymore.”

“I can see that.”

“My wife does not know everything about who I used to be, and my children certainly don’t.”

“I figured that much.”

“Then please don’t ruin the reputation I have built.”

I watched him carefully.

I studied the lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders were tense but not defensive, and the way his hands hung at his sides, open, honest. There was no manipulation in his voice, no bullshit… just fear. More importantly, I believed the version of him standing in front of me was different from the one I remembered.

“You clean?”

“Yes, and I have been for years.”

“What about the women? You still trickin’?”

His eyes widened, shock crossing his face. “Absolutely not! I am a devoted husband!”

I laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet driveway. “Had to ask. And you was doing that shit while dating women back then too.”

His face tightened, shame flickering across his features. “I said I changed.”

I studied him for another second, watching the way he held himself, and the way he met my eyes without flinching.

Then I nodded. “I believe you… but don’t make me regret believing yo’ ass.”

“I won’t.”

“Then we good, nigga.”

“You still curse too much and have that same cockiness to you.”

“And you still owe me money.”

His smile vanished.

I laughed, loud and genuine. “I’m just fuckin’ with you.”

He stared at me, his hand going to his chest. “That was not funny.”

“It was to me.”

He shook his head, but a second later he was laughing too. Quiet at first, then louder, the tension breaking between us.

Then he glanced back toward the house, his expression shifting to something more thoughtful… more concerned.

“You know, attachment can keep a soul from peace.”

I frowned. “Nigga, I got peace.”