Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Haelyn
Ihadn’t moved an inch. I stood frozen, unwilling to move a muscle.
The moment I stepped across the threshold of that grand house, I was engulfed in a spell of enchantment.
It was classy, cold, and clean enough to eat off the floors.
It was definitely the type of place that screamed money, but whispered danger.
I envisioned myself living there, indulging in a life of leisure—pregnant and pampered—gliding through the halls with silk robes, requesting strawberries and lobster.
I could almost hear the soft melodies of jazz drifting through the air as Jace leaned down to kiss my swollen belly, his strong hands gently kneading my tired feet.
Yet, even as my imagination soared, my lips remained sealed, for just three feet away loomed the human block of ice known as the security guy.
Towering and broad, he wore black gloves, and had a visible gun at his hips, which hinted at the seriousness of his duty. His gaze remained fixed, unflinching.
I wasn’t stupid.
Jace had given strict orders: “If she blinks wrong, kill her.” And that one looked like the type to indeed count the blinks. So, I stood right there, still as a damn statue, the fantasy playing behind my eyes, even though I knew better than to speak it out loud.
The earlier treatment from Jace played on an endless loop in my head.
It was as if I was a complete stranger to him instead of somebody who once knew the sound of his laugh, the way his voice dropped when he was irritated, or how he used to stare at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
The man I witnessed that day felt like a completely different person.
He was colder, harder, and angrier, like life had carved pieces out of him and replaced them with steel.
Perhaps the transformation was the aftermath of everything that had transpired.
I was almost sure he was probably still upset with me—maybe even hurt—and was trying to punish me a little before finally admitting who he really was.
I’ll give him time to get over what I did.
Not forever, though, but enough time to come back to me on his own.
Then again… maybe part of the problem was my appearance.
Ten years locked away from the world had changed me more than I realized. My hair alone had grown ridiculously long, thick, and uneven from years of trimming it myself in dusty bathroom mirrors with dull scissors and impatience.
Zonnique was a woman of her word, and she reserved an entire day to “get me right,” starting with a trip to the hair salon.
The stylist washed my hair three different times, deep-conditioned it, and styled it into a sleek pixie cut that somehow made me look whole again.
Then came the waxing, nails, brows, skincare routines, and long lectures from Zonnique about moisturizing properly like dry skin was a criminal offense.
Re-entering society as a woman felt exhausting.
Instead of taking me on some giant shopping spree, though, Zonnique just went shopping for me herself.
The bitch probably didn’t want to risk being seen in public with me maybe because she realized that after the makeover, I somehow came out prettier than her and that irritated her a little.
Be that as it may, she insisted I needed “outside clothes.” Apparently oversized hoodies, stretched-out leggings, and unresolved trauma weren’t considered a fashion aesthetic.
As impatience clawed at me, I wondered what could be taking so long upstairs.
I was dying to know what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it must’ve gone south, because minutes later Zonnique stomped down the stairs like the devil had stepped on her Louboutin’s.
“Let’s go!” she snapped, aggressively jerking her purse strap higher onto her shoulder.
“Okay…” I said softly, immediately falling into step behind her like a trained dog trying not to get yelled at.
Once we slid into the car and the engine roared to life, I hesitated before turning slightly toward her.
“Everything alright?”
Instantly, her nostrils flared, colored with indignation. “No! That muthafucka and his damn mouth, I swear! The nigga’s got all this money, power, is fine as hell, with great dick, and he still talks to people like he was raised in a damn cage fighting pitbulls!”
My eye twitched uncontrollably as my fingers curled tightly in my lap.
This bitch got one more time to speak on Jace’s dick like I’m not sitting here.
I didn’t want to hear about my man’s body being shared like a community meal.
A voice began whispering cruelly in my head, swirling with malice.
Look at you—pregnant, confused, and still chasing a ghost that won’t even claim you anymore… or maybe he genuinely doesn’t know who the fuck you are anymore. Meanwhile, he’s probably touching her with the same hands you keep fantasizing about. Ain’t that embarrassing?
Sometimes the voices knew how to torment me in silence and loved making me feel stupid.
Shut up! He remembers me! I saw it in his eyes!
Girl, please. You said the same thing about that male nurse at Willowgate because he brought you two extra graham crackers and remembered your name.
That was different.
No, it wasn’t. You spent two whole weeks thinking that man was secretly in love with you. Whole time, he was literally paid to be nice to mentally unstable patients.
Heat surged to my cheeks as humiliation and anger blended.
He did like me... a little, I protested weakly.
And this is exactly why nobody trusts your judgment now, the voice hissed. Because from the outside, this doesn’t look like destiny. It looks like you’re slowly losing your damn mind again.
Tears burned behind my eyes instantly.
I’m not crazy!
Then why are you sitting here jealous over a man who introduced himself to you like y’all never shared history?
My chest tightened painfully, an ache that felt like betrayal.
Because he’s pretending.
Or because you need him to be pretending.
“And didn’t I specifically tell you to keep it cute and quiet unless he addressed you first?
” Zonnique interrupted, her voice seething with displeasure.
“What was all that extra-friendly shit downstairs? Talkin’ ‘bout ‘it’s so good to meet you’ like you just bumped into a favorite athlete at a meet-and-greet.
You were practically glowing when he looked at you! ”
Zonnique sucked her teeth, a sound that echoed her irritation as she tightened her fingers around the steering wheel.
“He’s fine, yeah… but don’t lose focus over a handsome face and a deep voice. That man is the father of your future check, not Prince Charming riding in on a black horse to heal your inner child.”
I struggled to maintain a neutral expression, but inside, a storm brewed.
First of all, that’s Jace.
Second… bitch is you cool? I’ll hit this median so hard they’ll have to identify us through dental records and purse receipts.
And you keep saying “Merge” like I’m supposed to forget I knew that man before the money, the suits, and whatever little villain era he got going on now.
I swear, one more slick comment and I’ma forget that I’m supposed to be acting sane around y’all.
“I swear, these hoes just keep testing me,” I muttered under my breath, glancing out the window to avoid her scrutinizing gaze.
“What was that?” Zonnique asked.
I could feel her eyes boring into me from the side.
“Oh… nothing!” I blurted out quickly, backpedaling. “I was just thinking about my ex for a second. He used to act funny after arguments too.”
Zonnique continued to stare at me with a mix of suspicion and compassion for a few moments longer before shifting her focus back to the road.
The ride stayed quiet for a while after that.
I kept replaying everything from that meeting in my head, especially the tension between Merge and Zonnique. The anger in his voice hadn’t sounded like a man upset over a simple surprise visit; it sounded more personal.
Finally, I looked over at her. “Can I ask you something?”
Zonnique kept her eyes on the road. “Depends on the question. But you seem like the type who’s gonna ask anyway, so shoot.”
“Well… y’all aren’t engaged,” I pointed out innocently. “He made that very clear.”
Yup… I was throwing hella shade.
Zonnique sucked her teeth, then peered over at me. “Not too much.”
I forced a smile. “Right.”
Although technically, the truth shouldn’t count as disrespect.
“I also understand him being upset about us showing up unexpectedly. I mean, I’d probably be pissed too if somebody brought a complete stranger to my house without giving me a heads-up first. But it felt deeper than that.
It was almost like he had no idea about me…
or the pregnancy. If I’m keeping it real, he didn’t even seem like a man who wanted a child at all. ”
For a second, I thought Zonnique was going to brush me off.
Instead, she hit me with, “That’s because he had no idea I was setting all this up behind his back,” she confessed.
I blinked in confusion. “Setting all what up?”
“You want the truth? Well, here you go. Merge and I were never some big love story. We’ve dealt with each other on and off for the past three years, so, I guess you can say we have a bit of history, chemistry, comfort…
whatever you wanna call it. But us being serious?
No… never. He kept me around because I was “familiar,” I understand his lifestyle better than most of the other women he’s dealt with, and I know how to mind my business when necessary. ”
Zonnique sighed, taking a breather.
“I’m not going to go into all the details about their family business, but Merge knew he needed an heir eventually,” she explained softly. “That part wasn’t a surprise. In his family, having a child isn’t just personal; it’s tied to power, succession, legacy… all that mafia dynasty bullshit.”
Mafia?