Chapter 9 #2
Hassan smirked, shaking his head, but he welcomed it.
He stepped back into his stance, letting his body move on instinct.
Fists connecting. Dodging. Blocking. Striking.
Every hit was a release— his grandmother’s fading strength, the weight of business, the cops sneaking around, and most of all, Sevyn Love .
But no matter how many times he swung, she was still there. Still in his fucking head.
???
Hassan stepped out of his house, freshly showered, his body still warm from the steam.
Dressed in an all-black Nike tech, Jordan Concord 11s laced tight, and diamond jewelry gleaming against the afternoon sun, he moved with his usual quiet dominance.
He slid into his Bentley, the leather cool beneath his fingertips as he gripped the wheel, and pulled off, the low rumble of the engine matching the storm brewing inside him.
The drive to the hospital was smooth, but his mind wasn’t.
Helen was on her last round of treatment, and if this didn’t work…
No. Don’t even think like that. He had done everything in his power to make sure she was in the best facility, a hospital specializing in pancreatic cancer, with top-tier doctors who owed him more favors than they could count.
But even with all his resources, all his power, he couldn't control this.
When he arrived, he stepped out, his presence alone commanding attention as he walked through the doors.
The staff greeted him with quiet nods, the kind that acknowledged both respect and fear.
They all knew him—not just because of who he was in the city, but because he had poured money into this place the moment Helen was diagnosed.
Every dime spent was to ensure she had the best care, that she was comfortable, that she had a fighting chance.
He didn’t slow his stride as he made his way to her room. Knocking once, he stepped inside.
Harper was there, curled up on the couch, eyes rimmed red, her face tight with emotion.
But Hassan’s gaze immediately landed on Helen.
She looked… smaller. Frail. The wires attached to her seemed to weigh her down, draining what little strength she had left.
His jaw clenched, though his expression remained unreadable.
Seeing her like this—his grandmother—the strongest woman he had ever known, hooked up to machines, struggling just to exist, made something inside him burn.
“Wassup, Madea,” he said, his deep voice low, controlled, because that’s all he could offer.
Helen’s lips curled into a tired smile. “Oh, don’t you start that tough guy shit with me. Bring yo’ ass here and give me a real greeting.” Hassan exhaled through his nose, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She was still warm, still here. That was all that mattered. For now.
Harper sniffled from her spot on the couch, wiping at her eyes, but she quickly straightened when Hassan’s gaze flickered to her. She knew b etter than to show too much emotion around him—he wasn’t one for that soft shit.
“She been talkin’ about you all day,” Harper said, trying to compose herself. “Asked me five times when you was coming.”
Helen weakly swatted at Harper, rolling her eyes. “And? Ain’t no shame in that. My boy don’t come see me enough.”
Hassan scoffed, pulling up the chair beside her bed. “Madea, I was just here two days ago.”
Helen waved a dismissive hand. “And two days is too damn long. Don’t argue with me, San, I’ll still whoop yo’ ass from this bed.”
That made Harper chuckle softly, but Hassan didn’t smile. He just watched his grandmother, memorizing every little movement, every flicker of energy she still had, because deep down, he knew time was slipping away.
“Doctor say how you doin’?” he finally asked.
Helen hesitated, her eyes shifting slightly. “Same as last time, baby.”
Lie. Hassan’s jaw clenched. She was worse.
He could see it. The way she breathed a little harder, the slight shake in her hands.
But he didn’t push. He couldn’t. Because hearing her say she wasn’t getting better would make it too real, and Hassan wasn’t ready for that.
Instead, he reached into his tech jacket, pulling out a velvet jewelry box. He set it on her lap.
“Got you somethin’.”
Helen’s brows lifted slightly as she opened it, revealing a diamond tennis bracelet glistening under the fluorescent lights.
“Oh, San…” she breathed, her voice soft, touched.
Hassan cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Ain’t nothin’ crazy. Just somethin’ to match your ring.”
Helen traced her fingers over the diamonds, and for a moment, a genuine smile touched her lips. But then, her eyes lifted to him, full of something deeper, something that reached beyond the material.
"Enough of this sad shit. Hazel, baby, stop crying," Helen finally spoke, her voice softer than he was used to, but still firm. Harper quickly wiped at her damp eyes, trying to compose herself, though the sadness still lingered in her expression.
Helen’s gaze drifted between them, searching for normalcy. "How’s everything going?" she asked, her tone light despite the weight in the room.
Harper cleared her throat. "Umm... I just picked up a new client. He’s in the NFL." Her voice was subdued, but there was still a flicker of pride underneath the sadness.
"That’s great, baby." Helen smiled, and Harper returned it, even though her eyes still glistened.
Then Helen turned to Hassan. She didn’t even ask—just watched him, l ike she already knew the answer.
Like she knew he wouldn’t say anything. And for some reason, that hit him in a way nothing else did.
He could ignore anyone else, shut them out, brush off their concern.
But his grandmother? The woman who had raised him, who had been the only one to ever see him? That was different.
Something about the moment—about her —had him swallowing his pride. His mind flashed to Sevyn, the way she told him how much they worried about him, how his silence hurt them. And for once, he gave in.
"I’m opening another casino soon," he said, his voice even, controlled.
The air in the room shifted. Both Helen and Harper blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the rare offering of information. Harper’s lips parted slightly in shock before a slow smile spread across her face, while Helen’s expression softened in quiet pride.
"Really?" Helen asked, her voice full of warmth. "That’s amazing, San. I know I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you."
Hassan gave a small nod, his face unreadable as always, but inside, something stirred. He turned slightly, catching the way Harper was still smiling, like she was savoring the moment.
For once, he let it linger.
???
Hassan walked Harper to her car, stopping beside her G-Wagon as the night air settled around them. She turned to him, her voice soft but steady. "I'm proud of you too, cousin."
Hassan scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "Proud of me for what, Harper?" His hands slid into his pockets, his tone unreadable.
"For keeping everything together, even when you're hurting. That takes a strong person. And I should’ve never called you broken," she admitted, sincerity lacing her words.
Hassan nodded but showed no emotion. "What, you had a talk with your friend?" He asked, already thinking about Sevyn.
Harper smirked, letting out a small laugh. "Yeah. She put me in my fucking place about you."
Something inside him shifted. The idea of Sevyn fighting for him, defending him, when she didn’t even really know him—it did something to his chest. No one in his life had ever fought for him. He never needed anyone to. But her? She had, and she didn’t even have a reason to.
Harper turned back, her expression serious now. "She's good, Hassan. I know you don’t trust easily, and you have every reason not to, but Sevyn is good at what she does. Just give her a try."
Hassan didn’t react, didn’t move. He already knew Sevyn was good. Knew it because she had cracked through something in him without even trying.
Instead of answering, he let the moment stretch before shutting the car door for her. "Get home safe," he said, effectively ending the conversation.
Harper nodded, knowing better than to push. As her headlights faded into the night, Hassan walked to his own car, sliding into the driver's seat. He drove to the casino, ready to drown himself in work. The night was still young, and he had business to handle.
But even as he worked, the only thing on his mind was her. And he knew—he had to see her again.
Hassan sat behind his desk, the weight of the night pressing against him. Midnight crept closer, but the fog in his mind refused to clear. Jules’ gym had helped. Seeing his grandmother had helped. But nothing eased the gnawing, restless feeling inside him. He needed to see her.
The laws sneaking around, the expansion plans moving forward— everything was demanding more from him. More risk. More reward. More control. But right now, the only thing he wanted to control was the distance between him and Sevyn.
He pulled out his phone, dialing Harper. The second her voice filled the speaker, the tension in his shoulders eased, but he knew she wasn’t asleep.
"Hassan, you good?" Her voice was calm, but he could hear the teasing laced in it.
"Aye, where Sevyn be at?" He asked, getting straight to the point. Silence. A pause too long to be innocent. He knew she was smiling. "Why?" Her tone was playful, like she was enjoying this.
Hassan’s patience thinned. "Harper, stop playing with me, cuh."
A small laugh, then, "She’s actually right here. You wanna talk to her?"
His jaw tightened at the sound of her pettiness, but before he could respond, another voice filled the line.
"Hello."