Miyah’s POV

The car ride back to Zaire’s house was quiet. Not the tense kind of silence, but the kind where everything had been said, and now all that was left was to reflect. Zaire’s hand never left mine, his thumb brushing against my knuckles every now and then as if to remind me he was there.

Ashley and Zoey, seated in the backseat, whispered amongst themselves. I didn’t have to listen to know what they were talking about—Kate’s antics.

“She mad as hell right now,” Zoey finally said, breaking the silence. “Mi bet she already a call Sasha and tell her next step.”

Ashley snorted. “Let her try. She don’t know who she’s messing with. If she keep pushin’, she might have to hold a proper bad gyal response.”

Zaire let out a low chuckle from the driver’s seat. “Unuh nuh easy at all. Leave my mother to me.”

Zoey rolled her eyes. “You better handle it, Zaire. ’Cause if she try fi embarrass Miyah again, mi a fling mi heels at her.”

I laughed softly, the tension from earlier melting away with my friends’ banter. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t over. Kate wasn’t the type to back down, especially not when it came to someone like me.

Zaire pulled into the driveway, and the four of us stepped out of the car. The cool night air brushed against my skin as I took in the sight of his massive house. No matter how many times I came here, it still felt surreal.

As we entered, the soft glow of the chandelier in the foyer greeted us. Zoey and Ashley headed straight to the kitchen, muttering about needing wine, leaving me alone with Zaire.

He turned to me, his gaze soft but serious. “You okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Miyah.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s just... I don’t get why she hates me so much. I’ve done nothing but try to be respectful to her.”

Zaire pulled me into his arms, holding me close. “It’s not about you, baby. It’s about her not being able to control me. And you? You represent everything she can’t stand—independence, strength, realness. She sees that, and it scares her.”

I buried my face in his chest, his words both comforting and heavy. “I don’t want to come between you and your family.”

“You’re not,” he said firmly. “She’s the one doing that. And if she can’t accept you, then that’s her problem, not ours.”

I pulled back slightly to look up at him. “You sure about that?”

He cupped my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

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Kate’s POV

The wine glass trembled in my hand as I stared out of my penthouse window, the city lights twinkling mockingly in the distance.

“How could he talk to me like that?” I muttered to myself, taking a sip of the deep red liquid.

Sasha sat across from me, her expression a mix of disappointment and pity. “He’s blinded by her, Kate. That girl—she’s manipulating him.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Exactly. She’s nothing but a gold digger. She doesn’t belong in our world.”

Sasha hesitated before speaking. “Maybe... maybe we went about this the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned forward, her voice low. “If we want Zaire to see the truth about her, we need to expose her. Show him what she’s really like. Let him see for himself that she’s not worthy of him.”

I considered her words, the wheels in my mind turning. Sasha was right. Zaire wouldn’t listen to me as long as Miyah had him wrapped around her finger. But if I could show him—prove to him—that she wasn’t who he thought she was...

“Leave it to me,” I said, a plan already forming in my mind.

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Ashley’s POV

I leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping my wine as Zoey rummaged through the fridge. “Mi nuh like how Zaire mother deal wid Miyah tonight,” I said, my voice laced with irritation.

Zoey straightened up, holding a block of cheese. “She’s a wicked woman, Ashley. But Miyah hold her own. Yuh see how she clap back?”

I smirked. “Mi proud a her. But mi have a feeling this nah go end here. Kate look like the type fi come back harder.”

Zoey nodded, grabbing a knife to slice the cheese. “If she do, we’ll handle her. No one messes with our girl and gets away with it.”

I raised my glass in agreement. “To bad gyals sticking together.”

“To bad gyals sticking together,” Zoey echoed, clinking her glass against mine.

But even as we laughed and joked, a nagging feeling lingered in the back of my mind. Kate wasn’t done. And when she struck again, we’d have to be ready.

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