Chapter 20
I woke up to silence that felt engineered.
Not peaceful.
Not gentle.
Deliberate.
The kind of quiet you build when you don’t want anyone overhearing you breathe wrong.
The room smelled like antiseptic and money.
Leave it to my extra ass husband to hire private care and off-the-books doctors.
But this is why we built in silence for decades, because discretion paid for it in advance.
My body hurt in ways that felt layered, like pain had decided to stack itself instead of choosing a single place to live.
I didn’t open my eyes right away.
I cataloged instead.
Left wrist: wrapped, stiff.
Ribs: bruised, but not broken.
Jaw: tender.
Head: clear.
Good.
They didn’t break my mind. That was the only thing that mattered.
“Stop pretending you’re asleep.” Zayden’s voice broke through my mental inventory. His voice was low and familiar.
I smiled before I opened my eyes. That pissed him off every time.
“You’re late,” I said.
He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath since they pulled me out of concrete and blood.
“You almost died.”
“No,” I corrected. “I almost lost time.”
That made him sit.
The chair creaked softly beside the bed.
“That Bitch ass Nigga Charles is working with someone who served Chanel,” he said.
I turned my head slowly to look at him.
He watched me closely, like he was measuring whether I was ready to hear the rest.
“And?” I asked.
“They want testimony,” he said. “They want optics.”
He leaned forward. “Kenya—”
“I know,” I said calmly. “They’ll try again.”
Silence sat between us for a moment. Not awkward. Heavy.
“ADA called,” he added.
I laughed softly, then winced at my ribs. “That fast?”
“They’re coordinated,” he said. “Legal and financial.”
“Then Cameron’s driving,” I said without hesitation.
Zayden stiffened just slightly.
“You already knew,” he said.
“I suspected,” I replied. “I heard someone say her name during transport. But suspicion is just a theory until people get sloppy.”
“And now?”
“Now she’s bored,” I said. “So she’s escalating.”
I shifted carefully, sitting up against the pillows. My body protested, but I ignored it. Pain was background noise when your mind stayed busy.
“They won’t force me to testify,” I continued. “Not now. Not ever.”
Zayden frowned. “Why are you so sure?”
I looked him dead in his face.
“Spousal privilege,” I said.
The word landed heavily.
“You’re my husband. Anything I know is protected.”
His jaw tightened. “That won’t stop them from trying to scare you.”
“No,” I agreed. “But it limits their reach.”
I paused, then added, “Which means they’ll go after someone else.”
“Chanel,” he said.
“Yes.”
He stood abruptly, pacing once.
“That’s why I don’t want you anywhere near this,” he said.
I smiled again. Slower this time.
“You don’t get to sideline me because I got hurt,” I said evenly. “That’s how men lose wars.”
He stopped pacing and looked at me like he wanted to argue.
Then he didn’t.
That was growth.
“Tell me about Miles,” I said instead.
His eyes narrowed.
“What about him?”
“What did he say when Cameron’s name came up?”
Zayden hesitated.
That told me everything.
“He went quiet,” I finished for him. “Too quiet.”
“You clocked that?” he asked.
“I clocked him years ago,” I replied. “I just didn’t have proof yet.”
Zayden went still.
“You never said anything.”
“Because wanting someone doesn’t make them dangerous,” I said softly. “What makes them dangerous is the resentment they don’t admit to.”
The air shifted.
“He wanted you,” Zayden said quietly.
“Yes.”
“And you never—”
“No,” I said flatly. “Never.”
Silence.
“That’s why this hurts him,” I continued. “He didn’t lose power. He lost the story where he was chosen.”
Zayden’s hands curled into fists.
“Get me my laptop,” I said. “And tell Xavier I want everything on Cameron Price. Everything.”
Zayden studied me.
“You sure you ready?”
I met his eyes.
“They didn’t take me to break me,” I said. “They took me to remind themselves who I was.”
I leaned back against the pillows, pain humming, mind sharp.
“And they failed.”