Chapter 24
I had to confront my mom. I couldn’t believe that the sick bitch was away from her own son.
I knew there wasn’t much affection between her and my father.
The affair didn’t shock me. Hell, her using the church he loved and behold closely wasn’t a shock either, but betraying her own flesh and blood was low.
But before I would say anything to her, her access had to be cut off.
Accounts were locked. Charles was gone. Miles was handled and locked away. Zayden would keep him alive to bait Cameron, but after that, he would die a slow and painful death. Traitors always did.
Cameron was somewhere out there, thinking she was still the final boss.
But Sharon?
I wouldn’t bring her to our house.
I wasn’t about to let her poison the place where my beautiful twin girls lay their heads.
So Zayden and I chose a neutral spot to bring her in, the old rec center on the North End, the one that used to host church lock-ins and cheap dance classes before the city cut funding and let it rot.
Zayden bought the building years ago and never put his name on it.
To the city, it was vacant. To us, it was a quiet room with good acoustics and better exits.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, as if irritated to still be alive. The folding chair beneath me creaked when I shifted. I could smell dust, bleach, and a faint trace of old sweat.
Xavier sat off to the side, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, hood up.
He looked bored if you didn’t know him. Channy sat two seats down from me, jaw tight, eyes too bright.
As much as I hated the bitch, Channy actually had good moments with mom, and she was heartbroken to learn of her betrayal.
Zayden stood in the corner, more shadow than man, saying nothing.
The recorder sat on the table between us. We’d tested it three times. Two visible mics, one buried in the fluorescent fixture above us, backup on X’s watch, and audio mirrored through Zay’s phone.
The door opened.
My mother walked in like she was doing us a favor by showing up.
She wore a cream church dress and a soft cardigan, like she was on her way to some women’s Bible study instead of a reckoning.
Her hair was pressed, curls tucked under her shoulders.
Her lipstick was the same deep berry it had been my whole life.
Her perfume hit the air first—strong, floral, and familiar in a way that still irritated my lungs.
The smell reminded me of all the whoopings I received for raising my tone when I would defend myself from my mom calling me names.
“You dragged me all the way here,” she said, tightening her purse strap over her shoulder. “You couldn’t come to the house?”
“Thanks for coming, Mom,” Channy said softly.
I didn’t say a thing.
Her eyes skipped over me on purpose, like I was a stranger at somebody else’s family meeting.
Good.
I was done begging her to see me as her daughter.
“Sit down, Sharon,” Zayden said quietly.
She bristled at the way he said her name. My mother had always hated it when men used it without a “Mrs.” attached.
“What is this?” she demanded, but she sat anyway. “I’m not in the mood for any ghetto dramatics. I’ve had a long week.”
“You’ve had a long life,” Xavier murmured.
Her eyes flicked to him. “I didn’t ask you anything.”
“And yet,” X replied, “here we are.”
I reached forward and clicked the recorder on.
My mom’s gaze dropped to it.
Her lips curled.
“Oh,” she said. “So we’re doing — what is this? Interrogations now? Y’all think you're the DA?”
“Nah,” Zayden said. They’re sloppy. We clean.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am not talking about anything illegal with that little thing running.”
“You already did,” I said quietly. “You just didn’t know it.”
Her head snapped toward me so fast I heard something crack in her neck.
“What did you say?”
I met her eyes.
I didn’t look away. Didn’t fold. Didn’t shrink.
“You’ve been talking your whole life, Ma,” I said. “This is the first time we decided to listen correctly.”
Channy’s hands trembled in her lap.
“Mom,” she said, voice shaking just a little. “They have paperwork. About Jared. About Dr. Price. About—”
“Don’t you say his name,” my mother snapped, voice sharp enough to slice.
The temperature in the room dropped.
There it was.
Dr. Alan Price.
The missing professor from Cherry University and my mother’s man.
I leaned back and let my tongue rest behind my teeth.
Xavier lifted a folder from the table and placed it in front of her.
“Open it,” he said.
“I don’t have to do anything—”
“Open it, Sharon,” Zay repeated with force.
She huffed under her breath, muttering something about disrespect, but she flipped it open.
Inside were several pictures of her and Alan.
Copies of financial records.
Cameron’s birth certificate with her signature.
I remember my mom going away a few years before Chanel was born. My dad said she was sick and her head was hurting her. He said she was staying with Grandma to feel better. That sick bitch faked a mental health crisis to have another man’s fuckin baby.
My mother’s eyes scanned the pages, shoulders tightening one notch at a time.
“That’s fake,” she said.
Xavier laughed once. “Guilty motherfuckas always start there.”
She snapped the folder shut. “I don’t know what this is supposed to be.”
“It’s bank deposits,” I said. “Made from a shared account you had with Alan Price. Starting before I was born.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You got some nerve going through my private finances,” she said.
“That’s your takeaway?” I asked. “Not the part where your side man went missing, and his daughter ended up dedicating her whole career to destroying mine?”
“Don’t twist my words,” she said sharply. “I had nothing to do with that little girl.”
My mother ignored her.
X tapped another page. “And this is the fun part,” he said. “The DNA panel from when you got your little ‘routine checkup’ at the clinic five years ago. You remember signing that consent form, Mrs. Davis? The one that said your anonymized results might be used in academic comparison databases?”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You—y’all stole my medical information?” she sputtered.
My mother slapped the table.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “Don’t you fuckin judge me. I made my choices.”
Her voice cracked on the last sentence.
There it was again.
Choice.
“Tell Channy what that choice was,” I said.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped. “You never did listen growing up. Always had an answer. Always thought you knew better than me. Running the streets. Chasing dirty money. Dragging this family’s name—”
“Jared found out,” I said, cutting through her noise. “Didn’t he?”
Silence hit the room hard.
Her mouth clamped shut.
The hum of the lights filled the space; her denial should’ve gone.
Channy whispered, “Mom?”
I didn’t break eye contact.
“He found out you were messing with Alan,” I continued. “Found out he had a daughter you helped hide. A family you didn’t want us to know about.”
Sharon’s nostrils flared.
“He didn’t know anything,” she said finally. “He always thought he was smarter than everybody. Sneaking around. Listening at the doors. Reading other people’s mail.”
“You mean yours?” Xavier asked.
She ignored him.
“I talked to him. He said he came to you,” I said, voice low. “He confronted you. Said he never told us about it because his prison sentence was enough for us to handle. Your own son didn’t want to tear us apart with your infidelity. But despite that, he never for a second thought you set him up.”
“He disrespected me,” she snapped.
“He told you he was going to tell Daddy,” I added.
Pain flickered across her face before she could stop it.
“I was protecting my family,” she said.
“You were protecting your image,” I corrected.
Her hand slammed down again.
“You don’t understand what it is to be a Black woman with nothing,” she said, voice rising.
“Your daddy was all I had. If he knew. If he knew what I did, he would’ve left.
I worked too hard to hold that house together.
You think he would’ve stayed if he knew I stepped outside?
You think he would’ve been kissing the ground you walked on if he knew you weren't his only miracle?”
Channy flinched.
I didn’t.
“I’m not talking about what you did with Alan,” I said. “I’m talking about what you did with Jared.”
Her eyes went flat.
And just like that, I knew.
There was no fixing this.
“You knew what he was trying to do,” I continued. “He was digging into the DA who handled his case. The cops who took him in. He was getting close to Cameron’s people. To Alan. To you.”
She laughed.
“He was reckless,” she said. “Acting like some hood lawyer with a GED and a record was gon’ outsmart the whole damn system.”
“He almost did,” Xavier murmured.
I pressed.
“You tipped them off,” I said. “Didn’t you? When they came around asking for witnesses. For statements. You told them exactly what they needed to hear to make Jared fit the story they were building.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I protected this family,” she said.
“By sacrificing your son,” I said.
Her composure cracked.
“You think they was gon’ let him walk?” she demanded. “He was already on their list. Already in their files. They had him. And he wasn’t listening to me. He never listened. None of y’all did. So yes. I told them what I had to tell them.”
Channy’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Sharon kept going, like something dammed up inside her finally burst and she didn’t know how to stop.
“They asked me if he ever lost his temper. If he ever talked about getting even. If he ever carried a gun. What was I supposed to do? Lie? Pretend like my boy wasn’t out here playing thug?
I told them the truth. I told them he was angry.
I told them he didn’t like that boy he was accused of shooting.
I told them he could’ve done it if he was pushed. That’s all.”
She sat back, breathing hard.