After Eight years, Ghenesis Santiago leaves for Atlanta, Ga to try having a relationship with her father and his new family. While having to maintain her senior year in highschool and working with her brother and his Crew under her father's orders...
That puzzle piece slid ugly into place. Charles playin’ chess, movin’ through hospital back doors, runnin’ a chemo pill racket while the rest of us was throwin’ fists in alleys.
My jaw locked so tight it ached. I dialed without thinkin’, phone heavy in my palm. One ring. Two.
“Papa?” Ghen’s voice cracked through, sweet but tired.
“Hey baby,” I said low, tryin’ to steady my breath. “You good?”
“Yeah… just got off my feet. This baby got me cravin’ weird stuff.” She giggled soft, but I couldn’t find no laugh in me.
“Mmhm.” My voice sounded flat even to me.
“Zeus… what’s wrong?” Concern sharpened her tone quick.
I swallowed hard. “Ghen… when your mama first got sick, where she go? Where she get diagnosed?”
“Uh… clinic inside D.C. Medical. Why?”
I wanted to tell her. Wanted to scream it. But she carryin’ my seed, and the last thing she need is this weight. “Nothin’. Saw somethin’ on TV earlier. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be home later, aight?”
“Okay, Papa. And don’t forget, Artemis been waitin’ on her bedtime story.” Her voice softened. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Momma.”
I hung up, stared around at my crew. Rage crawled up my spine like fire ants.
“This don’t end with paperwork,” I growled. “We follow the money. We trace the names. And if Charles step in our way? I’ll send his soul packin’ myself.”
The boys didn’t need to be told twice. Nico loaded his piece with a smile, Mason cracked his knuckles, and Dice just nodded like he been ready.
Clock was tickin’. Christmas gon’ hit different this year.
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Meanwhile – Upstairs, 9:45 p.m.
The house was loud in that quiet way—girls sprawled in the upstairs den, homework open but nobody really focused. Artemis had just woke up cranky from her nap, so I sat cross-legged on the couch, feeding her slow, her little fingers clutchin’ at me like I was her anchor.
“Crazy how Anisha dipped and didn’t say a word,” Erin said, flipping her pencil.
“Good,” I snapped, patting Artemis’s back. “She can stay wherever the hell she at. Had my baby lookin’ like nobody loved her. If she pop up again, it’s on sight.”
Gigi’s head whipped toward me. “Uh uh, no ma’am. You barely two months pregnant. I’ll be damned if a cokehead the reason somethin’ happen to my godchild.”
I rolled my eyes but sighed. “I know… it just eats at me. She screamed and showed her ass in front my house for Artemis, then ghosted like she ain’t never cared. Makes no damn sense.”
Truth is, I understood demons. Understood runnin’ from ‘em too. But when you bring life into this world and discard it like trash? Nah. That baby ain’t never gon’ feel unloved again, not under my roof.
Taylor tried to lighten the mood. “Okay, change of subject—this weddin’, girl. Theme, location—”
“Not so loud,” I cut her quick. “Never know when Charles or Maddie lurkin’ in these walls.”
“Oh damn, my bad,” she said sheepish.
I let out a dry chuckle. “Ain’t like me and Zeus had time to plan anyway. Charles got us stretched thin.”
Erin side-eyed me. “Your daddy act like he runnin’ for governor or somethin’.”
“Or somethin’,” I muttered, kissin’ Artemis’s forehead.
Then the sound hit—the slam of car doors outside. Heavy. Taylor peeped from the balcony and froze. “Uh, Ghen… two black SUVs. Men gettin’ out with badges.”
“FBI?” Erin whispered.
“Nah… that badge say CSI,” Gigi corrected looking over.
The doorbell rang loud enough to rattle me. My stomach dropped.
“I’ll go,” I said, handing Artemis to Gigi.
“Like hell,” Taylor shot back, fallin’ in step beside me. “You ain’t goin’ down there alone.”
Each step down the staircase felt heavier. My hand trembled when I called out, “Who is it?”
A man’s voice came calm through the wood. “Ma’am, Agent Moss, Atlanta CSI. We’d like a word.”
“My father ain’t here,” I said quick. “You can wait for him—”
“Actually, we here to speak with you, Ms. Santiago. About Anisha Garcia.”
Something in me cracked. Against better judgment, I opened the door. Four agents stood stone-faced, suits sharp, eyes colder than steel.
“I don’t know what I can tell y’all,” I said, arms crossed tight. “We weren’t friends.”
Agent Moss glanced at his notes. “Ms. Santiago, records show your brother fathered a child with Ms. Garcia. We also know their relationship was hostile before her death.”
“Her what?” I breathed.
Taylor stepped forward. “Excuse me? Can you run that back?”
The agent’s tone never changed. “Anisha Garcia is deceased. Found outside Marietta. And we have reason to believe your brother may be involved.”
The words dropped like bricks in my chest. Anisha. Dead.
The room tilted, air thick and mean. Artemis’s faint cry upstairs was the only thing tetherin’ me to earth.
