Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
IMANIO “GATEZ”
A fter dicking Naji down real good—sick and all—I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. She looked peaceful for once, tangled in the sheets, as if she had always belonged there.
I stepped onto the balcony, the humid night air biting sharply at my bare chest. With one hand gripping the rail and the other clenched around my phone, I dialed the one man who could handle Gisell far way better than I could.
“Hey, son,” my father answered. “Everything alright? You usually don’t call this late.”
“She crossed the last fuckin’ line, Pops!” I yelled, the venom in my tone evident.
“Who?” he asked, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. Then came his bitter chuckle. “Wait—let me guess. Your mother?”
“Yeah,” I bit out, frustration boiling to the surface.
A silence settled between us, stretching into a tense moment before I let out a heavy sigh, one that spoke volumes of my understanding and exhaustion.
“What did she do this time?” he inquired, the weariness in his voice plain.
“She showed up to the house—with a fucking doctor and a nurse! She tried to have Naji committed… called her unstable! She really had the nerve to bring strangers into my home to try and cage my wife like a damn animal!”
My fists clenched in anger at the thought.
“What do you need to do?”
“Rush the damn divorce! I don’t care who you have to bribe or what favors you need to pull! I want it finalized, and I want it done asap!”
My grip on the railing tightened.
“And when it is—drain her accounts… all of them! Freeze every card, snatch every property and every car with her name on the title! She likes pearls and power? Let’s see how she does with plastic jewelry and no damn roof!”
He gave a low grunt. “You sure?”
“Pops, I’m done showing mercy to her ass! She tried to destroy my wife,” I said, my voice low but filled with conviction.
He chuckled, a chilling sound that hinted at pride. “I guess it’s time she learns what real consequences feel like.”
“Do it fast and make it hurt !”
I ended the call before he could respond, then shoved my phone in my pocket, and lit a blunt—dragging it slowly, letting the smoke bury the heat in my chest.
This isn’t just war anymore; it’s personal.