Chapter 4 Princess Sunday | 1030am
Princess
The next morning, the choir nearly lifted the ceiling with their singing.
Harmonies echoed through Greater Montgomery Baptist Church like angels danced on the rafters.
People had their hands raised, eyes closed, mouths open, crying, swaying, or mumbling in tongues.
I just sat stiff, legs crossed, eyes open, heart stone cold. I felt nothing.
The sanctuary attached to our home gleamed with gold accents and red pews, every inch showing money and tradition. Each week, it was packed with people in their best suits, dresses, and hats. They came desperate for the Lord’s word, or at least Zeke Montgomery’s version.
My father stood at the pulpit, smug. He wore a custom navy suit, a matching pocket square, and held that heavy Bible like a trophy. His other hand was raised, dramatic, and his voice boomed through the mic like thunder. He preached about loyalty, obedience, and staying on the righteous path.
I knew that sermon by heart. I’d heard versions of it since I could hold a hymnal.
In truth, Zeke preached loyalty to him, obedience to his rules, and righteousness as whatever benefited him that week.
His voice rolled through the sanctuary like a storm, but it didn’t move me.
Not even a little. Still, I kept my expression neutral, as trained: chin up, back straight, nod on cue, smile when necessary.
“Can I get an amen?” he thundered.
“Amen!” the congregation shouted back in perfect unison. I didn’t say a word.
My mother sat beside me, hands folded in her lap, pearl earrings catching the light.
She looked picture perfect, like one of those first ladies on church flyers.
She was always graceful, well-put-together, and the vision of perfection.
But she had survived under my father’s thumb longer than I’d been alive.
That was the difference: she had learned to braid elegance around her pain.
I could see exhaustion flickering beneath her polished surface, a tiredness that never truly faded.
I shifted in my seat, scanning the sanctuary.
I spotted Don posted in his usual spot at the back, stretched out like he owned the place.
His arms slung over the pew, smug, like everything belonged to him, including me.
His eyes locked on mine; his smirk said it all.
You’re mine. My stomach turned, but I held steady, not giving him a reaction.
My father’s voice rose, loud and sharp. “A woman’s duty,” he declared, “is to be a pillar beside her husband. To lift him up and support his vision…”
I was done. I stood up in the middle of his sermon, my chair scraping the floor. Gasps tore through the crowd, sharp as shattered glass. Heads snapped toward me, eyes wide, while my mother’s trembling fingers caught my wrist, her touch desperate, begging me not to go.
Don’t do this.
I pulled away and walked straight down the center aisle like I was walking a damn runway. My heels echoed with every step. I didn’t care who was watching and what they whispered. I could feel the weight of my father’s stare drilling into my back. Let him watch me walk away.
Later on, I awoke from a nap and headed down to his office. The sweet scent of incense and lilies gave way to the smell of old wood, leather, and his cologne. I pushed the old, creaky door open to see him standing by the window with a glass of liquid I knew was Hennessy.
“Princess.”
I closed my eyes, gripped the edge of my shirt with one hand, and exhaled slowly, bracing myself for the confrontation.
“That was quite the statement you made today,” he said, voice smooth, like it didn’t matter that I embarrassed him in front of half the city.
I raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the dimly lit office. “Walking out of a sermon is a statement now?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
I crossed my arms. “Do I? Or do I just know that you've been recycling that same misogynistic speech since I was thirteen? ‘A woman’s duty’ this, ‘a woman’s place’ that. You’re not preaching God, Daddy. You’re preaching control.”
His jaw ticked. “You will not speak to me with such disrespect.”
“Then maybe stop speaking to me like I’m still a child. I’ll be thirty soon.”
“Three years is hardly soon.” There was a pause.
A long, quiet moment that felt like the calm before a storm.
Then he stepped forward, his shadow falling over my petite stature.
His voice dropped low. “You are my child, and you will do as you are fucking told.” There it was.
No more mask or holy man. Just the tyrant I’d always known was underneath.
I let out a bitter laugh. “And there it is. The real preacher.”
“You will marry Don.”
“No,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I won’t.”
His expression twisted. “Princess, this shit isn’t a debate.”
I squared my shoulders. “And I’m not asking for permission to live my life anymore.”
His hand flexed by his side, fingers curling and uncurling, tension visible in every movement.
For a moment, I was sure he’d put his hands on me.
But he only dragged his palm down his jacket, jaw clenching as he swallowed whatever dark thought twisted behind his eyes, and nodded once, as if he’d measured out the price of my defiance.
“You are an ungrateful, reckless girl,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve given you? The life I’ve built for you?”
I stared at him. “A life built on your rules, not mine.”
He studied me for a moment too long. Then he gave me a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. “Fine,” he said.
My brows pinched. “Fine?”
He straightened his cuffs, calm as hell. “There will be a wedding next Saturday. Yours. If you defy me, there are consequences for every choice.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” he said smoothly. “Threats are for men without power. I don’t threaten, Princess. I promise.”
That sent a chill down my spine, but I didn’t flinch. My hands trembled ever so slightly as I stepped back slowly, nodded once, and said, “Enjoy the rest of your day, Daddy.” My chest tightened when I turned and walked away.
That night, I sat on the balcony in my robe with a glass of red wine.
Legs curled up under me. I looked out over the city, as if it might offer answers I didn’t have.
Everything looked peaceful from the hills.
Streetlights glowing like fireflies. The hum of uppity bullshit.
But peace was a lie. I could feel it coming… a storm was coming.
I took another sip and closed my eyes, letting my head rest against the back of the chair. Then, the balcony door opened behind me with a soft knock. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
“I’m fine,” I voiced, slightly rolling my eyes. “You shouldn’t be here, Ma.”
“I had to check on you,” she said with her voice low.
I finally turned to face her. “You’re here to convince me to obey?”
She hesitated. “I’m here to tell you that I love you, Princess. And if you want to cause a problem between you and your father… well, that’s up to you.”
I studied her face. My mother, who had never spoken out of turn, never raised her voice, and never once mentioned leaving.
“You knew about the deal with Don, didn’t you?
” She didn’t deny it. She nodded once, softly.
I felt that bitterness rise up in my throat again. “And you… just went along with it?”
“You think I don’t know what it’s like to be trapped, Princess?” she said, her voice low but sharp enough to cut through me. “I’ve been making choices I didn’t want to make since the day I said ‘I do.’”
I blinked back the sting behind my eyes. “Then why didn’t you leave, Ma?”
She turned her head, resting one trembling hand on the window ledge as she looked out past the glass toward the city skyline, her eyes searching desperately for answers. “Because leaving isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially when the walls keeping you in look like blessings from the outside.”
She shook her head softly, her fingers tracing aimless, anxious patterns on the worn paint.
“Big house, nice clothes, and church title. People envy a life they don’t understand, but they don’t see the bruises on your spirit and the ache that never leaves.
Not to mention, returning home to my parents isn’t an option. What would I do without your father?”
“I don’t know. Live?”
Silence sat between us, thick and punishing. She stepped forward, her hand trembling slightly as it covered mine. “Just... follow the rules, honey. Soon, it’ll all come to an end soon.”
I swallowed hard, brows bunched in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, I saw through the quiet, wholesome wife she always was.
I saw something snap and come back together as she smiled softly.
“Just get some sleep. It’ll be a long week of preparing for the wedding.
” She gave my hand a squeeze, then she got up to head back inside.
I sat there long after she was gone with my wine glass cradled in both hands. I wondered what the hell she meant by “it’ll all come to an end soon”? I couldn’t figure it out, so I just finished off my wine and went to sleep, thinking, this is some bullshit.