Chapter 24 #2
Paris’s mom raised a slow, judgmental eyebrow. Her father blinked like he just saw a ghost glitch. And Paris? She didn’t sneer or laugh; she just stared—lips slightly parted, a confused kind of softness in her expression, like she didn’t quite know how to feel. Almost like… pity.
Giselle’s lashes fluttered. “What was that?!”
Naji quickly adjusted the strap on her dress.
“Sorry. That was a tic. I—” She cleared her throat, tried again. “I’m Naji.”
Giselle waved her hand with a scoff, cutting her off like background noise.
“I’m speaking to my son.”
That was it.
My jaw locked so hard it clicked. I stepped forward.
“ Don’t do that. ”
Giselle’s brows rose. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t fuckin’ dismiss her like she doesn’t exist! I brought her in this house—with me! So you will show her some respect.”
Her mouth opened, but I wasn’t done.
“ You wanna know who she is? This beautiful lady is my wife . ”
The room froze again—that time, so heavy, the centerpieces were probably sweating.
Paris blinked, her head slowly turning my way. Her mom made a noise like a dry cough. And Giselle ? She clutched her chest as if someone had just whispered “Section 8” in her ear.
“Y-Your… wife?” she repeated, barely above a whisper, like the word was allergic to her tongue. “You’re… you’re married?”
The wine glass in her hand trembled just enough to be dramatic.
I brought Naji closer and laced my fingers with hers in front of everybody.
“Yes… married. As in committed, as in ’til death do us part, as in she carries my name, my protection, and my future,” I clarified.
“You understand contracts, Giselle; you should get this one. And whether you like it or not, she’s not going anywhere.
This is just one of those realities you just gon’ have to swallow. ”
My father’s reaction?
He cut into his steak like he was legally obligated to ignore nonsense. Not even a pause in his chewing—just nodded at the meat like, “You’re still the only one making sense.”
Paris?
Her eyes were wide like that was the most live-action mess she’d ever seen—and she wanted front-row seats for the sequel.
Naji?
She stood ramrod straight, smile flickering like a busted neon and fingers tapping her thigh like she was entering a cheat code to disappear.
But Giselle? She was spiraling.
She gasped—sharp and offended, like someone had slapped her with a wet Chanel scarf.
Dessign raised her glass. “Whew! Finally, not the scandal of the family. Cheers to that.”
She sipped slow, like that was premium cable drama and she paid extra for the no-ads version.
“Robert, do you not hear your son?!” Giselle questioned my father. “He just said he was married?! And Dessign, how are you so calm?!”
“Because I knew,” Dessign replied with a casual shrug, leaning back. “And you might wanna stop before your contour melts. You’re getting shiny.”
“You knew?!” Giselle shrilled in anger. “What about you, Robert?!”
He casually dabbed his mouth with his napkin, unbothered.
“ Guilty. Figured you’d find out eventually—just hoped it wouldn’t be while we still had company.” Then took a sip of water. “Shame too… dinner was just getting good.”
Giselle’s eyes fleeted like she was surrounded by traitors.
“Y’all knew?! And nobody bothered to tell me?!”
She spun toward me, arms flying.
“And you really ran off and married… her ?!” Giselle tossed her hand toward Naji like she was an unwanted raffle prize, then continued ranting. “I didn’t make enough place settings for this! I didn’t expect extras?—”
“You invited guests I didn’t expect either,” I countered, eyes cutting toward Paris and her parents.
Giselle’s head snapped in my direction.
“That’s different!” she barked. “They’re family associates!
You—” she gasped—“You blindsided me! And what’s worse…
you brought her here, knowing how I value image!
Yes, she’s beautiful… but it’s clear she has some type of mental issue!
Do you have any idea what people will think when they see her sitting at my table?
When they hear her name attached to this family?
It makes us look weak, undisciplined—like we’ll let just anyone in! ”
Giselle’s mouth dropped open like her soul tried to exit, and she froze once she realized she’d just admitted that in front of Paris’s entire family.
But it was too late .
Paris’s mom was already clutching her pearls—like, actual pearls— and blinking like she was trying to wake up from a weird dream. Her husband was leaned back, probably thinking, This is why we eat at home.
Naji’s tic popped out, right on time.
“Dinner lie T-bones! Shitty T-bones crawls!”
Dessign laughed and had to hold her chest, Paris smirked, and Pops paused only long enough to add more sauce to his steak.
“Giselle, we’re just… going to leave,” Paris’s father announced, rising from the table like the chair had grown spikes. “I think you all need to talk… privately.”
“Yeah, y’all do that,” I said. “And while you’re at it, don’t entertain any more conversations about me marrying your daughter, because it ain’t gonna happen. Not now. Not ever.”
“Imanio!” Giselle sucked in a deep breath, as if I’d dragged a muddy dog across her imported rug.
I tilted my head and shot her a mocking glare.
“ Giselle! ” I echoed, mimicking her tone exactly. “Oh no, he’s not behaving how I rehearsed in my head!” My voice was high-pitched and dripped with sarcasm.
Paris’s father released a long sigh. His whole face gave: We will never be returning here again.
“Mr. Lattimore! Please accept my apology!” Giselle sputtered, turning to him in a panic. “This was… this was unexpected! They—I mean she —can leave, and we’ll sort all of this out!”
Giselle was practically begging, voice wobbling as she tried to patch up the fantasy she clearly thought she still controlled.
I took a slow step forward; my eyes locked on Giselle and Paris’s father.
“My wife’s not going anywhere. And if I hear about y’all speaking on this, trying to spin it, or come back through my family again… let’s just say, if y’all don’t forget this evening as soon as y’all walk out that door, it won’t be dinner you’re choking on next time.”
Paris’s father looked like he wanted to shrink into his shoes.
“Right. Well then… I guess we’ll be on our way.”
Paris’s mom was already halfway out the door, heels clicking like gunshots on marble.
Paris gave Naji a quick glance—something between empathy and curiosity—but even she knew not to linger.
They exited without another word.
I turned back to Giselle, who was still standing there, stunned, breath shallow, and her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and barely-contained anger.
“We need to talk in private! Now!” she demanded.
I gently gripped Naji’s hand a little tighter so she knew I wasn’t letting her go and that I was sticking by her side.
“Nah. Whatever you got to say, you can say it in front of her… my wife, ” I emphasized. “I mean, she is family now.”
“Over my?—”
I raised a hand… not high; just enough to slice her sentence in half.
“ Giselle, ” I chuckled, but it damn sure wasn’t out of humor, “please don’t make me make good on whatever you were about to say.”
Giselle cocked her head at me like I’d spoken another language.
“You wouldn’t?” she challenged me with a chuckle.
“Oh, he’ll do it, Giselle. I wouldn’t test it,” my father warned, scooping a heap of potatoes like that was just Sunday dinner and not an emotional landmine.
Unlike Giselle, my father was aware of my ‘double life.’
The way my mama’s image and mouth were set up? She’d never approve of half the shit I did after hours—not that I needed her approval for what I did in my spare time or with my life in general.
Giselle opened her mouth again, but I didn’t let her get a single breath in.
“You always bring your poison to the table and dress it up like it’s fine wine, then act surprised when it burns going down. Just like you always try to run everything like life’s one of your staged galas.” My tone dropped, heavy and cold. “But not this… and damn sure not her.”
“Well, she can talk for herself, Imanio!”
“Hell, she tried to, but you cut her off ! ” I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls.
“Well, what’s wrong with her anyway? What she said—and the way she was twitching—that’s not normal behavior! Don’t tell me she’s one of those AI clones or glitching robots they keep trying to pass off as real people nowadays! Were you really that desperate, son?”
My anger spiked so fast it felt like the room got smaller.
Dessign saw it… so did my father. Even Naji felt it—her small hand gave mine a soft squeeze, a silent plea. But not even that could tame the beast in me.
For the first time, I let go of her hand; not because I was done protecting her, but because I was about to handle my mama.
“Oh no. She done woke up the sleeping Glock,” Dessign said with wide eyes.
Our father stood up slowly, not in protest. He just knew I could go from zero to fuck-it-all when pushed the wrong way. Giselle was aware, too, but usually she wasn’t the one on the receiving end to feel my wrath—not to that extent.
I stepped closer to her, every bit of me controlled but lethal.
“Don’t you ever in your fuckin’ life try to reduce my wife to some malfunctioning machine just because your cold ass can’t process someone different than you.
She’s not a liability. She’s not a prop.
She’s mine , and she deserves to be treated with some muthafuckin’ respect.
You always do this shit—act like your money, which really isn’t your money, gives you the right to speak on everybody’s flaws but your own.
Before one word left Naji’s mouth, I’m sure you were looking for a flaw the second you saw her!
I’m starting to believe you think belittling folks makes you powerful.
If you have that dumb ass theory, let me be the one to tell you that it doesn’t; it just proves how damn small you are. ”
I pointed at Naji without taking my eyes off my mama.
“You think her silence makes her soft? Nah. That girl’s stronger than all three of them bougie ass muthafuckas who ran outta here like scared rats. Naji has walked through storms that would’ve broken you—in heels or in prayer.”
Giselle’s eyes flared. “She embarrassed herself at?—”
“She has a fuckin’ condition!” I roared.
I felt the veins bulging along my neck, my chest rising and falling in tight, heated pulls of air.
“ Tourette’s , if you want me to be more specific!” I added. “So no, she can’t always help what comes outta her mouth!”
Giselle flinched, but I didn’t stop.
“But what’s your excuse?” I snapped, eyes locked on hers, blazing. “Because last time I checked, you spit venom with full control; every word measured and intentional. So what’s the diagnosis for that , huh? Is it just plain misery? Or are you simply a bitch? ”
I hated to call my own damn mama a bitch, but it was true, and I was over her shit.
The room went dead silent.
I saw it coming before she did it—Giselle’s hand rising for the slap she thought would land. I caught it mid-air, fingers wrapped tight around her wrist.
“You gotta be quicker than that,” I gritted coldly, eyes narrowed.
Giselle froze, breathing hard, eyes wide with disbelief and fury.
I stepped closer, fully facing her now.
“You don’t like my wife? Fine. That’s your business. She’s not here to win you over. But if you ever disrespect her again... if you ever make her feel like she doesn’t belong... you’ll lose me. And not just for a night or until either of us calms down… but for good .”
I dropped her wrist.
Giselle stared at me, stunned. Her lips trembled like she couldn’t decide whether to yell, cry, or apologize.
I leaned in slightly, voice quieter and crueler.
“And trust me, Giselle , you don’t wanna know what it’s like to be cut off by someone with my last name.”
I said my last name for a reason—because the way my father talked that day at my crib, it was clear he wouldn’t be sharing it with her much longer.
Giselle stared at me like I’d grown horns—like she didn’t recognize the son she gave birth to.
That was because I had outgrown that version of myself; it shed the moment she tried to belittle Chi.
Besides, that wasn’t about some business decision or personal dig…
it was about Naji. And the version of me that showed up when she was disrespected?
That man didn’t come to talk; he came to remind folks exactly who the hell he was.
I gave Giselle some lasting words.
“This version of Imanio doesn’t need your applause, permission, or you.
That being said, whatever else you think about Naji, keep it to yourself.
We’re leaving. I will not sit at any table—blood or not—where my wife is insulted.
I didn’t marry her to fit your narrative or anybody else’s.
I married her because she’s mine. And if you can’t handle that.
..” I looked her dead in the face. “Then don’t invite us over here again. ”
“Well,” Dessign spoke, flipping the toggle on her custom chair, the soft whir filling the room as it lit up. “That’s my cue to roll on out.”
She pressed the button, and the chair slid into reverse with the smoothness of a getaway car.
“I’ll walk you to your car, sweetie,” our father offered.
“If anybody embarrassed themselves tonight, it was you,” I told Giselle once they were out of earshot. “You invited guests to a dinner that wasn’t yours to narrate and got mad when the plot twisted. You talk about images but forgot your own reflection has been cracked for years.”
With those words, I walked out the same way I went in—unbothered, unapologetic, and holding everything that mattered right beside me. By the time the front door shut behind us, the silence I left in that house was louder than anything I could’ve said.
And Giselle?
She probably was still standing there looking dumbfounded, finally realizing that she no longer had control over the man I had become.