Chapter Seven
Tatiana
It had been two days since I had gotten even an inch of sleep.
Sleep didn’t come easy after finding out someone wanted to kill my father.
My relationship with my father wasn’t the best, but I would never wish any harm on him.
Malcolm Rich wasn’t the nicest or easiest person to deal with; however, nobody ever wanted him dead––at least not to my knowledge.
Plus, he was always surrounded by security because of our family’s wealth. So, he wasn’t an easy target.
I wasn’t naive enough to believe Raphael and my father weren’t involved in many illegal activities.
Karim followed in his father’s footsteps and kept me far removed from those things.
He told me our marriage would only work if I didn’t know how our family made our money, and I agreed.
For years, I watched my father make business deals and travel across the country, but I never knew what he did.
I always assumed he was just a businessman like my friends’ fathers.
All I knew was that I attended the best private schools, lived in the most expensive zip code, and always had money at my disposal.
There was no limit to what I could ask for and receive.
It wasn’t until I got older and started paying attention that I noticed the shady men who would come by our house to visit my father.
Once, I witnessed one choke my father out while he sat behind his prized desk.
The man got close to my father’s face––their noses almost touching––and told him he wanted his money and wasn’t going to keep playing around.
That’s when I started putting the pieces together and realized my family’s reputation wasn’t as clean as I thought.
My father was involved in illegal things, and I had to keep my mouth shut about it.
I was expected to always protect my father, and that’s what I did.
Always protecting him when he’s never protected me a day in his life––pawning me off to another family for greed’s sake.
No matter how much time went by, I would never forgive my father for what he forced me to do.
“Mommy, why are you cleaning so much?”
Nazira skipped into the living room where I was vigorously wiping down the marble coffee table. She leaned against the couch while biting into an apple.
The housekeepers had just left the day before, so there was no need for me to clean the coffee table.
But my nerves were frayed because of everything happening in our lives.
My baby girl had no clue––and that’s how I wanted to keep it.
It was my job to protect her innocence. She didn’t need to know about the life her father used to lead or what her grandfather still did, and I would do everything I could to make sure she never found out.
I looked over at her while straightening the couch pillows. “You look cute today,” I said, avoiding her question. “That purple and blush look great together.”
My baby spun around and smiled. “I needed a dramatic flair today––something that screamed drama. Mommy, when can I go back to school?”
She did a dramatic sulk and pretended to faint on the pillow I had just spent time fluffing.
It always amazed me how much personality my child had.
I don’t recall being as expressive and full of character when I was her age.
She loved theater, and when she was younger, she would act out her favorite movies for Karim and me.
He would clap so loudly for her, and she would wear this huge smile.
Whenever she had a play, he was right there in the front row with flowers and his phone to record her.
The box of phones on his side of the closet was filled with various videos and pictures of Nazira.
Every time he got a new phone, he would never get rid of the old one.
He would toss it into a box to keep the videos and pictures of our daughter.
Karim was sentimental like that, caring about the small things.
I recall a time when he cut a work trip short to come home and take photos of Nazira opening her Christmas gifts.
She was too young to even understand what a gift or Christmas was, but it was important to him.
He wanted to be there to celebrate her first Christmas as a family.
That’s when I started falling deeper in love with him because he showed me that we were a priority––and canceling an important business deal to fly across the country just to see a baby drool over giftwrap proved that. Oh, how I missed him.
“Mom?”
I shook off my thoughts and looked at my daughter. “Hopefully, your godfather will let me know you can return soon. Where’s Bloom?”
Nazira looked at me with a confused expression. “Mommy, Bloom hasn’t been here all morning.”
“Then who helped you get up this morning while I was in morning meetings?”
Nazira smiled. “Me. I told you I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself and get ready for the day.”
Bloom had helped me with Nazira since she was a newborn, always there to support me.
As a new mother, I was clueless, but Bloom reminded me that it’s okay not to know everything––which was new to me.
I used to be someone who knew everything, and if I didn’t know something, I would research it to find out.
But no amount of baby books, articles, or classes could have fully prepared me for what I experienced during delivery and becoming a mother.
Without my mother and Bloom’s reassurance, I don’t know what I would have done.
Yaya was there too, but she looked equally horrified at the newborn stage. Nazira spit up on her once, and she nearly passed out. It was funny because out of the two of them, Yaya always wanted to be a mother, while Bloom said she just wanted to be a rich aunt and wife, never a mom.
I checked my watch. “How about we watch a movie in the theater room?”
This morning, I spent most of my time on conference calls and replying to emails.
With the resort in Las Vegas and a few in the Caribbean wanting to have Hush at their locations, I was preparing for traveling out of the country and trips to the West Coast. Bloom knew the situation; she also knew I was overwhelmed right now.
There was so much happening, and I needed her to keep everything normal in Nazira’s world.
That’s why I couldn’t understand why she would leave without telling me. Curious, I sent her a text.
Me: Bloom, what the hell?
Her: Had something to handle this morning. Zira told me that she could handle herself.
I looked at my phone and sucked my teeth. Had I known my daughter was left unattended all morning, I would have canceled some meetings.
“Popcorn and pickles?” Nazira asked, jumping up happily.
I pretended to think with my finger on my chin. “How about jalapenos, or are you too scared of spice?”
She leaned her head on me and laughed. “Mom, I eat buffalo chicken now. I can handle a little bit of spice.”
While Nazira went to pop us some popcorn, I quickly fixed the pillows she’d messed up and then went to the theater to grab our blankets and drinks.
The house, over twenty thousand square feet, now felt too big with Karim gone.
We had staff living in the guest houses in the back, yet the house often felt like it was swallowing me up whole––mainly because of its size and the unexpected grief that would hit me at every turn of the corner.
Even simple tasks like showering or sweeping the sitting area could trigger waves of grief I couldn’t shake, despite my breathing exercises.
The bedroom no longer felt like a place of love.
I slept on one corner of the bed, while my laptop, work bag, and other miscellaneous things took up space on the other side.
It used to be my favorite room in the house.
Now it reminded me of my loneliness and the possibility that I may never find love again.
I’ve loved and lost twice. Now, all I had were the good and bad memories that haunted me at night.
Even though I knew I should start dating again, fear held me back.
I was scared to open up and let someone see my hidden, deeper levels.
I didn’t want to risk having my heart shattered after letting my walls down.
Nazira and I cuddled on the couch as she pressed play on the remote to start her favorite movie, Annie.
It wasn’t the original Annie because Nazira couldn’t relate to her.
It was the black version of Annie. Besides relating to the actress because she was black, I wasn’t sure what she meant by relate.
The girl had never lived in an orphanage and had been born into wealth from the moment she took her first breath.
Watching a musical movie with Nazira meant knowing she would sing along at every opportunity.
Yawning, I watched as she put on a show for only me.
My eyelids became heavy as I watched her through slightly closed lids.
The sleep I couldn’t seem to find was finally catching up with me, and despite my efforts to stay awake, my eyes slowly closed completely and soft snores escaped my nose.
Nazira’s singing and shouting had long stopped. Now I heard voices in the distance as I tried to get comfortable on the couch. When I couldn’t find the right position, I gave up on trying.
“Zira, I’m sorry for falling asleep on you!” I shouted, not knowing where my child had gone.
Transformers was now playing on the screen, and Nazira was nowhere to be found.
I sat up on the couch, slipped my feet into my house slippers, and wiped my eyes.
I slept so hard I could feel the dried drool on the side of my cheek.
It had been a while since I’d slept that soundly––only getting a few hours here and an hour there.
I rubbed my arms as I followed the voices, recognizing Jonah’s voice immediately and knowing he was in the bar area of the theater room.