Chapter 28 Vivi
Vivi
“I Remember Everything”
It had been five days since Marcel had my son lock into a commitment with a broken woman, and I was finally able to see him while he was alone.
I always thought men like Marcel didn’t sleep, but even in his slumber, I could tell he wanted to be up and handling business. That was all he cared about. Business was the reason I was in an arranged marriage at seventeen and didn’t escape until I was twenty-three.
Thanks to the love of my life, even today, Big Ghost, Ares’ father.
Even in death, I thanked him for saving me at my lowest. He opened a secret overseas account for me so I could plan my escape.
Big Ghost was very close to my brother, and he would send me to the United States to give Ghost products.
I got to know him every trip in ways that cost a lot of time and could have gotten us killed.
But Ghost showed my family he got what he wanted and was bigger than the program.
The night I ran, I flew to LAX and Ghost picked me up. My safe house was in Compton, CA, and it was the safest house I ever lived in. Ghost made sure I was untouchable. My ex-husband nor my father couldn’t touch me when I lived in the heart of Ghost’s city.
He always told me, “Nobody can touch you here,” and he meant that. So much so, he went to war over me, killing my ex-husband and letting Marcel cut off his plug. Ghost thugged it out, though. Got a new plug. I never went back to France and never left Compton.
I knew Ghost was married. I still chose to be his mistress and have his first son, his first child before his two daughters with his wife.
What we had was deeper than him cheating on his wife.
Ghost made sure Ares was outside. No one dared to question who he came from.
He went to public school, but I knew as long as my son was a Delacroix-Jackson, he was going to grow into royalty.
I taught him proper French, taught him etiquette on how to be a French man, told him about his heritage, and what he was born into.
Then Ghost got killed. Found out it was his own family member who killed him.
That’s when I knew I had to start pushing my son in the mindset of a leader, and I had to make amends with Marcel.
Especially when I found out he was in the early stages of sickness, and Ares was in his will as his heir.
My son needed to step into his position early, so I pushed my heart to the side. But I never ever forgave. That was the part Marcel missed because back then he didn’t love. He did business.
Now I was here, being the loving daughter. Part of that love was because my mother still loved Marcel, and it made her happy seeing me back around. It had been 14 years since I’d been back around Marcel, since Ares had been running circles around the Delacroix and Jackson family.
I looked at Marcel. This was the man who chose legacy over me. This was the man who made me a bride at seventeen, where I was raped, beaten into submission, and waved around like a prop trophy wife.
That’s why I wanted to talk to him about Yuna and the Laveau family.
I knew her and the family since she was born.
I knew she might be the chosen one. And the only reason she didn’t marry at 17 is because the younger generation had a backbone.
Ares never wanted to marry. So things got held off for decades, until Marcel saw a crack to slide into to force him.
I stood up and walked over to his bed.
“You could have stopped it,” I whispered. “You could have said no.”
I just couldn’t get over it, and Yuna’s situation was triggering. Marcel needed to know how I felt as an almost fifty-five-year-old woman.
Marcel finally opened his eyes. He looked at me and smirked.
“You people are always watching me,” he said jokingly.
I smiled. “We have to. We know how you like to sneak off.”
“I have to.” I watched his eyes land on my necklace.
Marcel’s eyes stayed on my necklace longer than they stayed on me.
“You still wearing that man around your neck?” he said quietly.
I didn’t touch it. I didn’t defend it.
“He saved my life.”
Marcel shifted slightly in the bed.
“He disrupted mine.”
I let that sit.
“You gave me away,” I said. “At seventeen.”
He frowned, but he didn’t look away.
“He abused me.”
He inhaled slowly through his nose. “You survived.”
“I didn’t survive because of you. I survived because of Ghost.”
That hit. I saw it.
“You ran to him,” Marcel said.
“I ran because you wouldn’t stop it.”
His eyes hardened a little. “You think I didn’t know what that marriage was?”
“Knowing and stopping are two different things.”
“You loved him and you weren’t supposed to,” Marcel said after a moment.
“I still do.”
There wasn’t anger in my voice. Just truth.
He swallowed. “He was reckless.”
“He was decisive. There’s a difference.”
I walked closer to the bed and sat down in the chair beside him again.
“I’m not here to fight about the past,” I said. “I’m here because what they did to Yuna feels too familiar.”
“She’s twenty eight, Vivi.”
“You don’t think fear feels the same at any age?”
“She’s protected.”
“So was I. On paper.”
Marcel looked at me carefully now.
“You think Ares will hurt her?”
“No,” I answered immediately. “That’s the only reason I’m not louder about this.”
That made him pause.
“I trust my son,” I continued. “I don’t trust how this started or the Laveau family.”
His fingers flexed slightly against the blanket.
“You’re projecting,” he said.
“No. I’m remembering.”
That quieted him.
“I knew that girl since she was a baby,” I went on. “I knew one day she’d be chosen. I just didn’t think it would happen like this. Not while she’s still bleeding from whatever they did to her.”
Marcel’s eyes shifted to the ceiling.
“You think I enjoy forcing my grandson into a contract?”
“I think you enjoy control.”
That made him look at me again.
“You came back,” he said. “You sit here. You advocate. You act like you’re not part of the same machine.”
“I am part of it,” I said calmly. “But I won’t let it swallow her the way it almost swallowed me.”
He studied me long and hard.
“You’ve always been dramatic.”
“I’ve always been honest.”
He exhaled, tired.
“Ares will be stronger than we were.”
“He better be.”
He watched my face carefully, like he was looking for hesitation. There wasn’t any.
“And you still hate me.”
I shook my head slowly.
“I don’t hate you. I just remember.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I leaned forward slightly.
“You owe me,” I said quietly.
His mouth pressed into a thin line.
“You think I don’t regret it?” he said.
“I think regret doesn’t undo anything.”
His eyes drifted back to my necklace.
“You always choose powerful men.”
I gave him a small, tired smile.
“No. I choose men who choose me.”
He didn’t answer.
His breathing started to slow again, exhaustion creeping in. The sickness was winning little by little. He hated that.
I stood up and adjusted his blanket.
“I’m going to see her,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because somebody should have seen me.”
I walked toward the door, then paused.
“You built an empire,” I said without turning around. “Don’t let it be remembered for breaking women to hold it up.”
Then I left him there with that.