Chapter 1
Twelve Years Later…
By midnight, Monroe had the city beneath his feet as he vibed to Jay Z’s Dead Presidents II as it echoed through his home.
Smoke curled through the room while he stared out at the city gleaming in his view.
He did his best thinking when he was alone.
When the world was quiet enough for his strategies to come together, his memory to flow, and his instinct to speak at the same time.
One thing he vowed to himself he’d never do was forget where he came from.
A man of his caliber couldn’t afford to lose sight of where he was going, and how to get there.
Having a higher state of mind was key when ruling an empire.
As he inhaled the potency of the kush, it traveled through his body, as his mind journeyed back to the year he suffered with Mutism and Dissociation paired with undiagnosed Depression.
As much as he wanted to talk, the trauma and emotional ruin he was processing forced a prolonged silence.
His nervous system had protected him when life had left him for dead.
Monroe’s best friends Truth and Syncere were there to support him as much as they could, but they had to keep business air tight in Texas.
They couldn’t afford to miss a beat, or take a hit.
Not when Monroe Sr. was gone, and his brother Mitch was serving time in New York State Prison.
Monroe and his mother Macie’s bond grew stronger during this time as she lovingly catered to his every need.
Every day she fed him affirmations that exuded power, strength, and resilience because she, unlike him at the time, could see light at the end of the tunnel.
She believed wholeheartedly that when her son snapped out of the phase he was going through, he’d carry their legacy further than it had ever been.
Monroe had watched his mother sacrifice, and rise to the occasion without one complaint, ever.
He honored and valued her immensely because of it.
Monroe appreciated his mother for never folding, and holding down the fort until he was able to adjust his crown and bounce back.
But Love…
Love was akin to the blood that flowed fluidly through his body.
He couldn’t live without it, but he could die from losing too much of it.
It could be potent enough to strengthen and give him life, or drain him until there was nothing left but his heartbeat fighting to survive.
Monroe had experienced both sides, and swore he was straight on love moving forward, until a year ago.
Monroe was a man in every aspect of his life.
When he loved, he was always all in, or completely out.
It was a trait he inherited from God, and it had easily set him apart from a mass majority of typical men in the world.
Despite the time that had passed, Monroe’s heart and mind still frequently lingered to Sienna.
He thought about where they’d be, what they’d be doing, if she’d have his babies, and who they’d look like if she did.
However, there were other times he simply envisioned her pretty face, and the innocence in her gaze.
When she died, she not only took a part of his soul with her, but the pain was so severe it silenced his voice.
Sienna was indeed gone. Yet, in the moments when he allowed himself to be still, he felt her breathing as if her life had shifted positions inside him.
Her scent still clung to his senses, woven in places memory refused to release, and the softness of her skin remained etched into him, lingering in places time hadn’t learned how to erase.
“I know you takin’ care of her for me now,” Monroe whispered to God with a faint smile, replacing the tears he couldn’t afford to let slip.
It took time, but Monroe had mastered the ability to shift his thoughts when they got too deep relating to Sienna.
He never thought he’d find a love that could trump, or come close to the love he had, until he met Promise.
Before her, he had started speaking again, but he’d always kept it to a minimum.
If it wasn’t Truth, Syncere, Mitch, or his mother, there weren't many who knew what his voice sounded like.
Monroe had done a complete 360 since crossing paths with Promise.
She had changed his life for the better.
She was healing.
She was peace.
She was perfection, and had easily transformed into his hiding place.
He talked more, became more intentional, and laughed out loud.
Sienna and Promise were cut from the same cloth, yet stitched into different designs.
That was the thing. Monroe loved Sienna so much until he didn’t want to find anyone who was identical to her; he couldn’t handle it.
Sienna was soft, and so was Promise, but she was sprinkled with a fiery boldness and sex appeal like Monroe had never seen before in a woman.
Promise spoke her mind always, while Sienna often held back until she couldn’t anymore.
Promise would cuss you out in a heartbeat, but Sienna killed you with kindness.
Both women slayed in their lane, but it was those small differences, and their physical appearance that made them different.
It was the little things that made Monroe cleave to Promise like a magnet.
Just the thought of her softened the corners of Monroe’s mouth into a quiet smirk as he reached for his phone.
Can’t get my mind off you, ma. You love keepin’ a nigga waitin’ tho.
Monroe sent her a text then snapped a picture to show the view outside his window. He laid his phone back down, knowing Promise was sleep, and likely wouldn’t respond until she woke up in a few hours. Taking another deep pull from his blunt, he thought about the family empire.
Since he’d taken his father and uncle Mitch’s place as a kingpin and the primary supplier, there were some pending decisions that needed to be made concerning expansion to the Midwest. Everything moved through Monroe.
Every move, every shipment, every dollar that mattered passed through him before it touched the streets.
He never handled product and never needed to announce himself or raise his voice.
Monroe’s name alone carried enough weight to keep everything in line.
The city ran on timing, and he was the one who decided when it flowed and when it stopped.
He controlled it all. Men twice his age who’d survived decades in the game waited for his word, not because he demanded loyalty, but because order followed wherever he stood.
He was the source and the authority, and a man who ruled and reigned supreme no matter where he stood on the board, and his silence…
His silence exuded the type of power that made men and women come correct when they were in his presence.
Then to top it off, in rare occasions when precision required his personal hand, Monroe was a sniper; he never missed.
It was something his inner circle knew, but never breathed a word
Just as he exhaled smoke from his nostrils, his phone buzzed against his thigh, alerting him of an incoming call. The second he glanced at the screen, he instantly smirked as he realized it was a three-way call from his partners, Tru and Syn.
“Yo’,” Monroe answered.
“This smooth ass nigga, Roe!” Syn used Monroe's nickname. “What’s the deal, my nigga?” Syn jested.
Truth took the last swig of the Henny he had just poured. “There y’all nigga’s go,” Tru said, laughter dripping from his tone.
“Man… What’s goin’ on in there?” Monroe inquired, leaning back in his chair behind his desk.
“This shit is a cake walk, bruh. Everything straight though. That mu’fucka Mitch crazy as hell though,” Syn said, shaking his head. He’d fallin’ right in line since being locked up with him, and had been receiving all the perks since he’d got there.
“Easy on my mu’fuckin’ name,” Mitch sounded as he returned from his session with a new CO. “What’s the deal, nephew’s?” He spoke, flashing a smile that only a quick shot of good pussy could put there.
“Aww, shit! Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. The hell that nigga up to besides bendin’ all them CO’s over?” Monroe replied.
“Shit, that’s the only thing worth talkin’ ‘bout. The way he get the pussy from these CO’s should legit be fuckin’ studied,” Syn said, salty because Mitch hit before him.
“That’s exactly what’cho ass need to do, young blood. Once you make them hoes lose they mind one good time it’s a mu’fuckin’ wrap. Ain’t shit they won’t do for a nigga,” Mitch spoke facts.
They all laughed at once.
“Aye Tru, what’s good wit’ Amor?” Syn asked out of nowhere. “I been tryna call her ass for a week straight, and my ass been goin’ straight to voicemail.”
“Shit, her ass prolly ain’t tryna talk to yo’ ass!” Tru told his ass straight. “She replaced yo’ ass man. Just appreciate the fact that she still lettin’ you holla at them kids. Let it go.”
“Fuck you, black ass mu’fucka. I ain’t talked to my kids either. Somethin’ ain’t right. I can feel that shit.”
“Yo’ ass ain’t feelin’ shit nigga. They took a family trip to Japan, the reception probably ain’t too good out there,” Monroe revealed.
“How you know?” Syn quizzed, relieved simultaneously.
“She told Promise when they had their last girls weekend,” Monroe told him. “She’ll be back in a couple days to be at her mother’s wedding though.”
“A’ight, man. Good lookin’ out,” Syn replied.
“Shoulda let his ass sweat a lil’ longer, bro,” Truth said, taking another drink from his Henny bottle as Rae walked into his mancave naked.