Chapter 5
Chapter five
Kynsleigh
Irocked gently in the old chair that squeaked with every sway, humming to my baby in a low, tender voice.
“Close them eyes, my sunshine boy. Mama’s here, don’t you cry. Dream about clouds and angel wings. Sleep real good ‘til morning sings.”
My voice was soft, cracked with tiredness but full of love.
Mysun sighed one of those tiny baby sighs that melted me from the inside out. His eyelids fluttered as he drifted off. His tiny hand stayed clutched to my shirt, refusing to let go.
When his breathing evened out, I stared at him a little longer, whispering almost to myself, “You look just like him.”
I didn’t mean to think about Merge—again—but Von’s voice had been on replay in my head all week.
“Girl, just call the man! You don’t gotta do it alone.”
I wanted to laugh at the thought, but my chest tightened instead.
At first, I brushed it off like I always did. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew he was right. Merge had a right to know. But how?
He was too powerful, too unpredictable, and everybody in New Orleans knew of them, and the danger that came with their name. Nobody just walked up on a Belvior… especially not with a baby on their hip. The Belviors didn’t play fair. So even if they believed me, Lord knows what they’d do.
What if I tell him and he takes my baby?
What if he doesn’t believe me? Will he just kill me for the audacity?
I shuddered. The thought alone was enough to make my stomach twist.
My mind wandered to that night that led me to that damn club, a pregnancy I didn’t plan, and a living situation with Von I never saw coming.
The night I ended up in that club wasn’t just some random, reckless detour; it was pure, raw, soul-snatching heartbreak.
Before I walked into that lounge, I sat in my car for twenty minutes, gripping the steering wheel so hard I thought it would snap.
My face was still wet from crying and my stomach still sick from what I’d done… more so, what I’d given up.
I had just ghosted the only man I ever loved, and it wasn’t for the usual reasons women dip on niggas. He wasn’t cheating, broke, or even disrespectful. It was my parents. They gave me a choice no daughter should ever hear.
“Leave him or lose everything.”
When they spoke of “everything” they were referring to the entirety of the life in which I was nurtured and shaped.
The inheritance.
The last name.
The access.
The safety net.
The world that cushioned me since birth.
The irony? They weren’t even my biological parents.
I was adopted at birth. My birth mother, from what I was told, was deemed unfit, and signed over her rights.
I never met her… never even saw a picture.
All I ever knew were the people who picked me up, wrapped me in wealth, and raised me as their own.
At first, they were amazing. I had everything a child could dream of—ballet lessons, luxury vacations, designer clothes before I could spell the brands, tutors, and summer programs. I never had to work and I never went without.
Even in college, they made sure I never touched debt.
I got my master’s in business without lifting a financial finger.
I was their golden girl. But… the older I got, the tighter the leash became.
It was subtle at first. It started with questions about my friends…
their families… how they lived. Then it grew louder.
Who I could date. What I could wear. Where I could go. Who I was allowed to become.
When I fell in love in college with someone who didn’t fit their “perfect, polished mold,” it was war.
Dorian was my ex, my secret, and my peace.
For three years, I kept him hidden behind excuses, lies, and carefully planned good-girl smiles.
It wasn’t easy… not with parents like mine.
But those three years were the happiest I’d ever been.
Dorian was everything right in a world that kept telling me he was wrong.
He was kind, intelligent, stable, and fine enough to make me forget what I was risking.
Most importantly, he loved me without the titles…
without the money. But to my parents, love didn’t matter, status did.
They said it was about my future, but really, it was about their reputation.
I was twenty-eight at the time… grown. But still, I chose the money.
150,000… that was the amount I was set to receive on my thirtieth birthday.
That was enough to fund the dream I’d kept tucked in my chest since I was fifteen years old.
I wanted to open up a massive daycare center for low-income families, a place that gave parents dignity and gave kids a future.
I wanted to do it my way. Even if it was their money, I wanted to build something they didn’t own, so I chose the money over Dorian.
I didn’t explain or give him a goodbye… I just selfishly disappeared.
So, me going to the club that night wasn’t to turn up; I went there to drown, forget, and feel anything other than regret.
I drank too much, let the music get too loud and let the grief get too quiet.
Then came the one-night stand. Three months later, when I was bold enough, I told my parents I was pregnant.
I thought maybe they’d understand that a child wasn’t a burden but a blessing…
but no. They demanded I get rid of him immediately and told me if I decided to go through with the pregnancy, that in so many words I was dead to them and that the inheritance would be revoked.
That time? I didn’t choose the money; I chose Mysun.
For once, I chose peace over privilege and purpose over pretending, and they blackballed me for it.
I applied for so many jobs and sat in plenty of offices where the smiles froze the second they realized who my parents were.
They didn’t just cut me off; they made sure the whole damn world did too.
So even with me having a master’s degree, recommendations, and experience, it stopped mattering the second my last name entered the conversation.
Calls stopped getting returned and opportunities disappeared overnight.
It was like I was being punished for surviving the very people who were supposed to love me.
Every door I knocked on shut in my face… except Von’s.
Again, the only reason I even got a job at that hotel was because Von vouched for me. His connection opened what their money tried to close. Before that, when I told him they put me out, he didn’t judge me or hesitate; he just said, “You can crash here until you figure it out.”
And I did.
I promised myself right then that I’d find a way to repay him someday, and not just for the housing, but for the reminder that kindness still existed in a world that turned its back on me.
I’d rather be broke and real than rich and owned… and I vowed to teach my son the same. Mysun would grow up knowing that his mom didn’t pick the easy path, she picked him. She chose truth, faith, and herself… even when it cost her everything.
Mysun’s soft cries pulled me out of those haunted memories.
After soothing him back to sleep, I stood carefully and laid him in his crib, brushing a soft hand across his curls.
“Sleep good, Mysun,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Mama gon’ figure it out, lil’ man.”
I lingered for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, listening to those tiny baby sighs that felt like promises I couldn’t afford to break.
I swallowed hard, glancing up at the ceiling like I was looking for an answer.
“God, you gon’ have to guide me on this one. I don’t want no drama; I just want him to know the truth… his son.”