Chapter 3 #2
“There go the queen of New York,” he said, after sliding his window down.
Macie smiled. “Monroe,” she said, quickly averting her eyes to her brother-in-law, Mitch.
Accepting the nonverbal cue, Mitch allowed the moment to breathe, and chose not to press him out further. Still, he tucked the question away, knowing he’d circle back once the dust settled and the right moment presented itself.
Monroe being the gentleman he was, would never allow his mother to carry anything in his presence. He got out of the car and grabbed all the bags from his mother’s hands.
Mitch followed suit, and made his way around. “Macie Black,” he greeted, respectfully embracing her. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” Macie returned.
“How you doin’? I already know business is good.” Mitch asked, looking around at Macie’s mansion.
“I’m good, and business has never been better. Y’all come on in,” Macie quickly shot back and invited.
Macie led the way through the grand foyer of her home, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors as the soft, but rich scent of Midnight Blue Citrus from her Bath & Body Works plug-ins fragranced the air, setting a peaceful tone.
Despite the moves she had made and the chaos that had followed, when it came to her personal domain, she curated peace and warmth.
Macie knew that Monroe had handled business before Mitch ever walked out those prison gates, but that didn’t negate the role she played in giving him what was due to him.
There were certain responsibilities that belonged to her…
responsibilities that had been waiting for this very moment.
The Black Family Empire wasn’t just business, it was legacy.
An inheritance built long before Monroe ever took his first breath.
The organization had been passed down through bloodlines, beginning with Monroe Sr. and Mitch’s grandfather.
The order to entrust the empire into the hands of the eldest male of each generation came through their father Mason.
So, when it came to the structure, money, power, and respect for the Black family, it wasn’t chosen…
it was inherited. Life had disrupted the natural order that had been set, which led to the reason Macie was left to handle business in her late husband’s place.
Since the death of Monroe Sr., and Mitch’s incarceration when their father, Mason passed away, Macie was left in charge of giving Mitch his part in the inheritance his father left back for him.
Macie opened the double doors to the in-house conference room that was just beyond the living room.
She took her seat at the head of the table, the same seat her husband would’ve been seated had he been alive.
Mitch took the seat at the other end of the table, his choice intentional.
It wasn’t about challenge. It was about acknowledgement.
His presence alone signified the return of order.
He was the head of the family, and was intentional about reclaiming his rightful position.
Still, there was mutual respect for Macie and the role she had played while he was gone.
She hadn’t just held things together, she had helped preserve the empire.
Monroe read the room and wasn’t intimidated.
He was accustomed to power.
He understood it intimately.
Therefore, he wasn’t intimidated by positioning or silent gestures meant to establish rank.
Where he sat at the table didn’t determine his worth.
Position could never define him. The work he’d put in had already done that for him.
Both Mitch and Macie knew exactly who had kept The Black Family name ringing bells around the globe.
Monroe hadn’t merely protected the legacy.
He had elevated, expanded, and strengthened it in ways that made their reach undeniable.
Titles could be debated, but results never lied.
“Mason was a good man, and he loved this family more than life. He loved what this family represented. Losing you and your brother broke his heart, but you know what he always used to say. We–”
“We never lose. No matter what… We’ll find a way,” Mitch finished his father’s quote, then chuckled.
Monroe chuckled too, remembering the sound of his grandfather’s voice, and all the lessons he taught him throughout his life.
Macie tapped the surface of the table, activating the hidden mechanism beneath it. A drawer slid open smoothly, revealing two thick, oversized envelopes sealed in black.
“Mason. Your father wanted me to give this to you upon your release. He told me not to open it, so I don’t know what’s inside,” Macie told him truthfully, sliding the black envelope across the table.
“Are you sure you never opened the envelope?” Mitch quizzed, his eyes unwavering. Years had passed, but trust in their world was never given freely, it had to be earned and needed to be maintained.
“Never,” Macie replied without hesitation. Macie knew she’d lose her life if she dishonored her father-in-law's wishes.
Mitch nodded, choosing to take her word for it. For now, her word was enough.
Dressed in light grey wide-leg designer pants, a silk white button-up blouse, and black stilettos that clicked softly against the polished floor, Promise walked into New York State Prison with the quiet confidence of a woman who understood exactly who she was.
It was her first day, yet not a single nervous bone existed in her body.
Her thick mane was pinned up in a loose, messy bun, drawing attention to her high cheekbones, warm brown eyes, and full lips which was easily the focal point.
Heads turned the moment she stepped inside, but Promise remained focused-forward.
She wasn’t there to be seen. She was there to make an impact.
Promise had introduced a new program to the New York prison system designed to address the decision-making patterns, and focused on accountability, emotional awareness, and mental awareness in a way that often led men right back into cycles they claimed they wanted to escape.
Weeks before her official start date, she’d requested permission for inmates to voluntarily sign up in advance.
She believed change had to be chosen, not forced.
She hadn’t expected the roster to fill so quickly, but she appreciated the momentum.
Slow days had never been her preference. Purpose kept her sharp.
"Hi, my name is Promise Montgomery. Today's my first day here," she introduced herself as she prepared to go through the metal detector.
"How you doin'? I'm Officer Taylor, but you can call me Eric," he insisted, openly flirting."
Promise rolled her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Officer Taylor," Promise shot, walking through the scanner, keeping it professional, but her resting bitch face was unmatched.
"I ain't mean no harm, beautiful," Officer Taylor said with both hands raised in the air.
"I'd prefer to be called Ms. Montgomery," Promise told him while sliding her shoes back on.
She walked away, making a mental note not to speak to that particular officer again.
Promise didn’t tolerate blurred lines in professional spaces.
Her relationship with Monroe fulfilled her emotionally, but even without him, she didn’t entertain disrespect disguised as compliments.
She simply didn’t play that shit. In Florida, she received the utmost respect, and every employee and inmate knew not to play with her like that.
These muthafuckas gone fuck around and find out real quick around here, she thought to herself.
Thankfully, she'd already completed her walk-through of the prison, and had decorated her office to her liking.
She had two appointments and one class to get through in the meantime.
Promise grabbed a radio transmitter from the employee station and powered it on before moving toward the secured corridor.
Once she reached the checkpoint, she pressed the button signaling control to secure the door behind her and open the one ahead. The heavy steel door opened slowly, allowing her access deeper into the facility.
As soon as she entered her Mahogany Coconut plug wafted tastefully into her nostrils.
She had to have another scent to offset the stale scent the prison unapologetically offered with no remorse.
After sitting her bag down on her desk, Promise powered on her MacBook Pro so she could get to her digital schedule to review her first appointment.
It was nothing short of a surprise when she saw Syncere Carter's name.
Promise knew that he'd take her class, but she had no idea that he'd be added to her roster for one-on-one visits.
Tap...Tap..Tap
Promise looked up as the sound of someone tapping the door snatched her out of her inner thoughts.
"How you doin', Ms. Montgomery? Are you ready for your first appointment or do you need a few minutes?" Officer Cannon asked from the door.
"Yes, I'm ready," Promise said, scrolling to another screen to document the visit.
Moments later, Syncere Carter stepped through the doorway like he was running shit.
And, he was. His crisp dark denim jeans and freshly pressed blue DOC button-up sat neatly against his athletic frame, paired with spotless white Air Force 1’s that looked like they had never seen a scuff.
Syn had always understood the power of presentation.
Promise's eyes immediately landed on Syncere, and his signature half-smile was contagious. Promise smiled as the officer closed the door.
"What's good, Sis!" Syn greeted, genuinely happy to see Promise.
"Oh my God, Syn! How are you?" Promise exclaimed, unable to stop herself from giving him a half hug. "I would ask how you're holding up in here, but I can see you doing just fine," she observed.
"No matter where I go, I'ma always be who I am, sis,” Syn replied with a slight shrug. “Tell my mans' I said what up," he said, referring to Monroe.