Gwen tossed her purse on the dresser and let out a heavy sigh, glancing over at her sister. Martha lay curled up on one of the queen-sized beds, her back turned, her body still as if sleep would somehow erase the shame clinging to her. But Gwen knew better.

"You still sulking?" Gwen asked, kicking off her shoes.

Martha didn't respond at first, just stared at the wall like it held all the answers she'd been too blind to see before. Finally, she exhaled shakily. "I fucked up, Gwen."

Gwen scoffed, sitting on the edge of her own bed. "No shit."

Martha closed her eyes as yesterday's events replayed in her head like a damn movie she couldn't turn off. Tank had beaten the absolute hell out of Vince—didn't even let him finish his verbal attack on Kayla before he snapped. She could still hear the sickening crunch of fists meeting flesh, the sound of Vince groaning in agony. And then Tank had turned on her.

"You a piece of shit." His voice had cracked when he said it, his fury laced with something deeper—disgust, hurt, disappointment.

And then his mama—Lord, his mama.

His mama had ripped into her, her voice sharp and unforgiving as she clung to Kayla like she was her own. No second thoughts. No hesitation. That woman had more maternal instinct for Kayla than Martha ever did, and that's what broke her.

Martha shook her head, her chest tightening. "They love her, Gwen. Without conditions. Without question. They protected her like she was one of them." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Hell, she is one of them."

Gwen studied her sister for a long moment. She wanted to say something slick, something that would make Martha see just how much damage she had done. But instead, she sighed.

"Yeah," Gwen said, voice softer than expected. "And that's something you gon' have to live with."

Martha wiped her tears, but they kept falling. She had already lost Kayla. But now, now she had to sit with the weight of knowing she was the reason.

Gwen rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the dresser. She didn't feel a lick of sympathy for Martha. Not one damn bit. Because she knew her sister—knew she was still going to be with Vince when all of this blew over. Martha wanted her cake and to eat it too, just like always.

"You better be lucky you my only sibling and mama and daddy aren't here no more," Gwen scoffed, shaking her head. "Because the way I feel, I wanna beat your ass for what you allowed to happen to my niece."

Martha winced but didn't argue, and that pissed Gwen off even more. At least fight for your child, she wanted to yell. At least pretend to have some damn remorse.

Gwen might be rich, bougie, and living a life far removed from the bullshit Martha put up with, but one thing about her—she could fight. That's why she ran her mouth so recklessly, because she could back it up with her hands.

Martha sniffled, finally rolling over to face Gwen. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face full of shame. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't feel like shit?"

Gwen smirked, unimpressed. "Oh, I know you feel like shit. Question is, what you gon' do about it?"

Martha opened her mouth, then shut it just as fast. Because they both knew the answer.

Nothing.

She wasn't going to leave Vince. She wasn't going to change. And she damn sure wasn't going to fix what she broke with Kayla.

Gwen sighed, pushing off the dresser. "That's what I thought." She grabbed her purse, digging through it for her room key. "I'm done talking about this. Get some sleep, Martha. You gon' need it when you realize just how alone you really are."

With that, Gwen walked into the bathroom, leaving her sister drowning in the mess she made.

Vince lay in the hospital bed, still in agonizing pain, his wrists handcuffed to the rails. The heavy pain medication had worn off hours ago, leaving him to feel every brutal blow Tank had delivered. His body throbbed, his ribs ached with every shallow breath, and the bruises across his face made even blinking a struggle.

He had been here for a couple of days now, and if the pain wasn't enough, the humiliation was unbearable. Every officer on duty that came in and out of his room found amusement in his condition.

"Boy, Carter beat the brakes off your ass," one officer chuckled just last night.

"Should've stayed your ass where you belonged," another had added, shaking his head in pity before laughing with his coworkers.

Vince sat in silence, seething, his blood boiling despite his weakened state. But the pain of Tank's fists wasn't what enraged him the most.

It was Kayla.

Kayla, pregnant.

With Tank's child.

The thought made him grip the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white. That wasn't supposed to happen. That baby should've been his. In his sick, twisted mind, Kayla was his. No matter how much she fought him, no matter how much she cried and begged to be free, she was supposed to be his woman, carrying his child, living the life he planned for them.

Not running off to some country-ass truck driver who thought he could protect her. Tank may have beaten his ass, but Vince wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

He would make Kayla see that she belonged to him. And when the time was right, he'd make Tank pay.

Vince clenched his jaw as he stared at the ceiling, his mind working overtime despite the pain pulsing through his body. He had to be smart about this. Tank got the drop on him this time, but next time, it wouldn't go down like that.

He just needed a plan.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door creaked open. A nurse walked in, looking disinterested as she checked his vitals. She didn't say a word to him, barely sparing him a glance, which only fueled his anger. Like he was some piece of trash taking up space.

He swallowed his pride. "How much longer I gotta be here?" he asked, voice hoarse.

The nurse gave him a bored look. "Till the doctors clear you. Which, given your injuries, won't be anytime soon."

Vince sucked in a sharp breath, the frustration bubbling inside him. He didn't have time to sit in here while Tank played house with Kayla.

The nurse finished her check-up and left without another word, leaving him alone with his thoughts again.

Then, as if the universe wanted to push him over the edge, his phone buzzed on the side table. The cops had left it there, knowing he couldn't do shit while cuffed.

He turned his head slowly, eyeing the screen. A message from an unknown number.

You don't know me, but I know about Kayla. And I know she's pregnant by some truck driver. If you want to talk, hit me back.

Vince's eyes narrowed. His gut told him this was no accident. Somebody wanted to stir the pot. And right now, he was more than ready to let that motherfucker boil over.

William leaned back in his leather office chair, tapping his fingers against the desk. His mind was already working ten steps ahead. Darling had been inconsolable since she found out about Kayla's pregnancy. His baby girl wasn't used to losing.

And William had made damn sure she never had to.

If Tank thought he could embarrass his daughter, humiliate her by knocking up some little girl and tossing Darling aside like she was nothing—he had another thing coming.

He exhaled through his nose, picking up his glass of bourbon and taking a slow sip. The message was already sent. Now, it was only a matter of time before Vince took the bait.

William smirked to himself. Men like Vince were easy to manipulate—weak, insecure, and desperate. He would be the perfect pawn to get what he wanted. What Darling wanted.

He pulled up another contact on his phone. A fixer. Someone who handled problems discreetly. Because if Vince couldn't get the job done, William had no problem getting his hands dirty.

The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered.

"You got a job?"

William swirled his drink, watching the ice clink against the glass. "Not yet," he mused. "But stay ready."

He hung up, his smirk deepening.

Darling sniffled, her perfectly manicured nails trembling as she scrolled through the photos. Tank was hers. He was supposed to be hers forever.

But now, that bitch was carrying his baby.

She clenched her jaw, her chest tightening as she stared at an old picture—her legs wrapped around Tank's waist, his hands gripping her ass, their smiles wild and carefree. She remembered that night like it was yesterday. They had been so in love. Or at least, that's what she thought.

But clearly, she had been a fool.

Tears blurred her vision as she tossed her phone onto the couch. She wanted to scream, to break something, to make Tank feel the same gut-wrenching pain she felt. He had moved on so easily. Didn't he ever love her?

Dina sat across the room, sipping wine as she watched her sister unravel. "Get it together," Dina sighed, rolling her eyes.

Darling shot her a glare. "Fuck you."

Dina smirked. "I'm just saying. You sitting here crying over a man who ain't crying over you."

"Shut up, Dina," Dominique scolded as she rubbed Darling's back. "Let your sister grieve."

Dina scoffed. "For what? He's gone, ma. He's with that girl. Got her pregnant. It's over."

Darling shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not over."

Dina arched a brow. "What?"

Darling sat up, wiping her tears as a slow, dangerous smirk spread across her lips. Tank might think he's done with her, but she wasn't done with him.

Not by a long shot.

Darling leaned into her father's side, her lips curling into a smirk. William wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her temple like she was still his little girl. And in his eyes, she was. His princess. His priority.

"You know I never let anybody take what belongs to me," William said smoothly, his deep voice laced with promise. "And you, my love, will get the last smile."

Dina scoffed, swirling the wine in her glass. "Y'all are now taking this too far. Tank don't want her no more. He's done, Daddy. And that girl—Kayla? She's pregnant. You really think he's just gonna leave his baby?"

William exhaled sharply, his expression cool and calculated. "Men leave women every day, Dina. A baby don't mean a damn thing."

Darling wiped her tears, straightening her back as she let her father's words settle into her soul. He was right. Tank didn't belong to Kayla. He belonged to her.

"Now," William continued, reaching for his phone. "What do we know about this girl? Her weaknesses? Her fears? Because if we're gonna take something from her, we need to know exactly where to hit."

Darling's lips curled. "She's fragile. Emotional. She grew up abused, and Tank's been playing hero. He thinks he's saving her, but once he sees she ain't as innocent as he thinks, he'll leave her."

Dina sat up, interested despite herself. "What you mean?"

Darling smirked. "Let's just say, Kayla's got a past t"

William chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Then let's make sure he finds out."

Darling grinned, her heart pounding with excitement.

Tank might've put a baby in Kayla, but Darling was about to remind him who he really belonged to.