Calla
I’d been smiling at my computer screen for at least ten minutes before I realized it. The quarterly report wasn’t that funny.
I leaned back in my chair, letting my fingers rest against my lips.
The office was quiet, early enough in the day that the usual buzz hadn’t settled in yet.
My calendar said “family therapy” in neat black letters at three p.m., but my mind was still somewhere between New York City and the Aman suite, between the quiet strength James possessed and Amiyah’s laughter echoing off the walls.
Comic-Con. Who would’ve thought?
I could still see them in their costumes, James impossibly commanding as Kakashi, Amiyah radiant as Hinata.
The way people looked at us like we were celebrities.
The way James' jaw flexed every time someone flirted with her. The way Amiyah’s hand had slipped into mine when she thought no one was watching.
I hadn’t laughed that much in years.
The thought of them softened something in me, but the clock on the corner of my monitor reminded me that softness had its limits—therapy day.
I had a list of things I needed to say to my family, and none of them were easy.
Especially not my latest run-in with Sr.
He’d come to my office unannounced, entitled, all charm and poison, trying to force me to sabotage my brother, to help him crawl his way back into a company he nearly destroyed.
And when I refused, he’d pulled out the photos of me entering and leaving Provocateur.
His smirk had said it all: I’ll make sure the world knows what you are.
What he didn’t understand was that the threat no longer held power.
He hadn’t created The Black Dahlia; his cruelty had.
And today, my family would hear my truth directly from me.
Therapy sessions always felt like a strange mix of battlefield and confessional booth. The room was soft, neutral tones, a couch that could’ve been in a catalog, but it never failed to churn up the most complex parts of us.
Mom sat across from me, legs crossed neatly, pearls and tension both in place. Caleb and Calil sat beside each other, relaxed in that way men get when they know they can make the room laugh if it gets too heavy.
Our therapist, Dr. Morgan, looked between us. “Calla, you said you had something you wanted to discuss today?”
I exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to me.
“I had a visit from Dad last week,” I started. “He came to my office uninvited and tried to bully me into helping him undermine BlackSphere. When I refused, he pulled out surveillance photos of me coming and going at Provocateur.”
Mom’s hand went to her chest. “He’s been having you followed?”
“Yes,” I said. “And he plans to use it to blackmail me. But it won’t work, because I’m done hiding who I am.”
Caleb frowned. “Hiding what, exactly?”
I hesitated for a heartbeat, then said it. “I’m The Black Dahlia.”
Silence. Then Caleb snorted. “Wait. THEE Black Dahlia? That Black Dahlia? One-half of the execs at the firm whisper about her like she’s an urban legend?”
Calil blinked, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God. You mean the dominatrix? Sis, please, tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not,” I said evenly, though their laughter was contagious enough that I had to fight a smile.
Caleb clutched his chest. “Man, I’m glad I never took any of those invites. I’d have been throwing up all over the floor like that episode of Family Guy.”
Calil was wheezing now. “The one where everyone’s just—” He mimed gagging, and even Dr. Morgan cracked a grin.
I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. “You two are insufferable.”
“Traumatized, actually,” Caleb said, still chuckling.
Mom wasn’t laughing, though. She looked more confused than anything. “Calla, sweetheart, I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
I sobered. “It means I’m a dominatrix, Mom. I perform under the name The Black Dahlia. I built that persona from the ground up to reclaim the power that was taken from me.”
Her brow furrowed, but her voice was soft. “Power that your father took.”
I nodded. “And others after him. Men who mistook control for love. The Dahlia was my way back to myself. She isn’t ashamed, she’s survival, she’s freedom.”
The room went quiet again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was understanding settling in.
Caleb finally broke the silence. “So our baby sis is both famous and terrifying. Well, I’ll be damned.
Calla, I love you, always have and always will.
I’ve always seen your strength, your courage, and your power.
There was never anyone but you in mind to run Blacksphere, and you’ve proven repeatedly that I made the right choice.
More than anything, I’m proud of you for reclaiming a power that men who weren’t worthy tried to take from you. ”
“Unbelievably terrifying,” Calil added. “But dope as hell, just send us a schedule of your appearances at the club so we know to stay away those nights,” he chuckled.
I smiled. “The Black Dahlia is about to be retired.”
Dr. Morgan tilted her head. “That took courage, Calla. What made you decide to share this today?”
I hesitated, then let the truth roll off my tongue. “Because I’m done compartmentalizing. And because there’s more.”
Caleb groaned. “Please tell me you’re not secretly Batman, too.”
I ignored him, my heartbeat picking up. “I’m in a relationship,” I said. “With James Carter Jr. and Amiyah Patterson, and I’m in love with both of them.”
Mom’s hand flew to her mouth, but she didn’t speak. Caleb and Calil froze, one mid-sip of coffee, the other mid-eye roll.
Dr. Morgan arched a brow. “How do you feel saying that out loud?”
“Terrified,” I admitted. Then, softer: “But free.”
And for the first time, I didn’t care if anyone in that room understood it.
Caleb cleared his throat, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “You know,” he said, grinning faintly, “I knew what was up at my Freaknik picnic.”
Calil nodded in agreement, pointing at me. “Same. Y’all was way too wrapped up in each other to be just business partners and associates by way of Mav. James looked like he’d fight the sun if it stared at Amiyah too long, and you, you had them both at the gala like y’all was a married throuple.”
“And the way you look at Amiyah, fine ass, is the same way I look at Yanna. Ain’t no way you was coming up off her thick ass,” Caleb smirked as I glared at him for lusting after my woman.
“Not too much on her,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
He chuckled. “My bad, sis, but you were looking at both of them like dessert. We figured something was cooking; we didn’t know it was a full-course love story.”
Calil snorted. “We mind our business, though. You looked happy. Still do.”
Their teasing was easy and lighthearted, but the sincerity beneath it hit harder than I expected. My brothers weren’t laughing at me. They were laughing with love.
Then my mom spoke. Her voice was soft, almost tentative at first. “Calla.”
I turned to her, bracing myself for disappointment or confusion, maybe a mixture of both, but what I saw instead was something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Her eyes were wet, but kind.
“I don’t fully understand everything you’ve told us,” she began slowly. “I won’t pretend I do, but I know you, I know my daughter, and I’ve watched you carry yourself like the world would fall apart if you ever stopped holding it up.”
She took a deep breath, blinking back tears. “I know what your father’s words did to you. I know how small he made you feel, and I hate that I didn’t protect you the way a mother should have. I hate that you had to become this Black Vidalia person to remember that you were powerful.”
Caleb and Calil snickered at our mother messing up my alter ego name like some childish ass kids, which made me giggle too.
My chest tightened. “Mom…”
She reached for my hand. “But I also see you now, this strong, brilliant woman who built herself back from ashes and still dares to love. I don’t care what you call it or who it’s with; if it makes you feel seen and cherished, then I support it. I support you.”
The words hit somewhere deep, somewhere I hadn’t let anyone touch in years. I’d spent so long building armor that I’d forgotten what it felt like for someone to reach through it and hold me gently.
Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them. I tried to laugh, but it came out broken. “You’re really going to make me cry in therapy?”
Calil chuckled softly. “Well, we already laughed through half of it, so balance, I guess.”
Caleb nudged my shoulder. “She’s right, Calla. You earned this peace. You’ve been in protection mode from everybody since you were fifteen. Let yourself be free, and we’ll protect you from this point forward. We got you, baby sis.”
Mom squeezed my hand again. “You’re my daughter, Calla. Nothing about you could ever make me love you less. Not your strength, not your truth, not your mistakes. You hear me?”
I nodded, voice trembling. “Yeah. I hear you.”
Dr. Morgan smiled quietly, jotting something on her notepad. “I think this is a good place to pause for today.”
We didn’t rush out of the room right away.
Caleb cracked a joke about needing to sage the house before Dad tried to pop up again.
Calil offered to “accidentally” leak Dad’s hairline photos to the press if he crossed the line.
And Mom just kept holding my hand, her thumb brushing over my knuckles like she was trying to make up for all the years she hadn’t known how.
When we finally stood, I realized my shoulders felt lighter.
For once, I wasn’t carrying the secret.
I was just Calla, daughter, sister, woman in love.
And for the first time, that felt like enough.
By the time I got out of therapy, my head was buzzing, but not in a bad way, more like a heavy, overfull way that comes after saying everything you’ve held in for years.
I needed air, food, and a solid plan. As we were heading to our cars, I told my brothers to meet me at Big Earl’s so we could talk about Sr.