Kayla awoke the next morning, feeling the weight of Tank's arm draped over her, his body pressed against hers. He looked peaceful, his breathing slow and steady. She studied him for a moment, admiring the way his thick lashes rested against his cheeks, how his lips were slightly parted as he slept.

She felt light after last night—after everything she had confessed. Tank had listened, truly listened, without judgment. He told her they were in it together, and for the first time in forever, she believed she wasn't carrying the weight of her past alone.

Carefully, she reached for her phone on the nightstand, trying not to wake him. She unlocked it and saw a message from Adonis.

Adonis: I'm sorry, Kay. I really wanted to be there, but Martha was mad that you didn't invited her or Janay, so because they weren't both invited, I couldn't come.

Kayla rolled her eyes, exhaling softly.

Kayla: I understand.

She was disappointed, but honestly, she was glad he hadn't been there to see her break down. The last thing she needed was for Adonis to see her unravel like that.

Her phone buzzed again.

Adonis: I'm coming to the baby shower even if I have to sneak away.

Kayla chuckled, shaking her head. She loved Adonis, and deep down, she knew her mother hated that.

Before she could type a response, Tank stirred behind her, tightening his hold on her waist, his palm resting against her stomach. She felt his warm breath against her neck before his lips pressed softly against her shoulder.

"Mmm... mornin', lil bit," he mumbled sleepily, his deep voice rough with sleep. His hand moved in slow, lazy circles over her belly, his fingers splaying possessively over the small curve.

Kayla smiled, leaning into him. "Good morning, Tanky."

Tank hummed, his lips brushing her skin again. "You up early. What you doin'?"

"Just checking my phone," she said, locking it and setting it aside.

Tank groaned, nuzzling into her neck. "Mm. Ain't nobody more important than me and this baby," he mumbled, voice still groggy.

Kayla giggled as he pulled her closer, his bare chest pressing firmly against her back. Tank was always affectionate, but this morning, he was extra loving. His arms stayed wrapped around her, holding her as if he needed to feel her against him. His lips trailed slow, warm kisses along her shoulder, up the curve of her neck, and behind her ear, making her shiver.

"You feel good, lil bit," he murmured, his deep voice still thick with sleep as his fingers traced lazy patterns over her stomach.

Kayla melted into him, sighing softly. "You're all over me this morning."

"'Cause I want to be," he admitted, tightening his grip. "You mine, and I need you close."

Kayla smiled, rubbing his arm as she turned slightly to face him. His light brown eyes were heavy-lidded, still clouded with sleep, but there was something else there too—something tender.

Tank reached up, gently cupping her face. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I feel... lighter."

He studied her for a moment, his thumb stroking her cheek. "Good. I ain't ever lettin' nobody put that weight back on you," he promised.

Kayla felt her heart swell. Tank was real—his love was real. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, but before she could pull away, he deepened it, his hand sliding down to cup the back of her neck. The kiss was slow, deep, intentional—as if he was trying to show her everything he felt for her without saying a word.

Kayla moaned against his mouth as his hand slid lower, smoothing over the curve of her hip before resting on her belly again.

"Tank..." she whispered.

"Mm?"

"I love you."

His lips curved against hers as he murmured, "I love you more."

Kayla bit her lip, her fingers tracing his jaw. "Why are you so extra this morning?"

Tank smirked. "Ain't no such thing as too much when it come to you."

Kayla giggled as he nuzzled into her neck again, his hands still possessively resting on her belly.

Tank grinned as he stared down at over her shoulder, his hand still resting on her belly. "You excited 'bout havin' a boy?" he asked softly.

Kayla's smile widened as she turned to fully face him, her eyes shining with warmth. "Yeah," she whispered. "I hope he looks like you."

Tank's chest swelled at that. He knew their son would be beautiful, but the thought of their baby carrying his features—his eyes, his smile—made something deep inside him stir.

"I can't wait to see him," Kayla continued, her voice full of wonder. "To hold him. To nurse him..." She bit her lip, her fingers tracing Tank's chest as she imagined it. "To watch him grow and see all the little things he picks up from us."

Tank watched her, mesmerized. He could see the love she already had for their son. The way her hand cradled her belly, the dreamy look in her eyes—it was all so real. And the way she said she wanted to nurse him... That did something to him.

"You gon' be the best mama," Tank murmured, his voice husky as he leaned in, kissing her softly. "And I love the idea of you holdin' my son to your chest, takin' care of him like that."

Kayla blushed, her smile turning shy, but he could tell she liked that he felt that way.

"He gon' be a mama's boy, I already know," Tank chuckled, rubbing her belly. "But that's alright. Long as he know his daddy don't play 'bout neither one of y'all."

Kayla laughed, resting her forehead against his. "He's gonna be so loved."

"Hell yeah, he is," Tank agreed, kissing her again, slow and deep.

Kayla sighed into the kiss, her body melting into his. She felt safe, cherished, and loved. Tank continued kissing her, his lips moving slowly against hers as his hands wandered over her body. His touch was firm but tender, his warmth seeping into her skin.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, "Yo' breasts still tender, baby?"

Kayla nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah... they're so heavy." She exhaled softly. "I know they're gonna sag..." she mumbled, a little self-conscious.

Tank frowned and shook his head. "I don't care if they sag, they still pretty to me," he told her, his deep voice full of certainty. His hands slid up, cupping them gently. "They feel good, too."

Kayla sighed as his warm hands massaged her sore breasts. His touch was always perfect—soothing in a way that nothing else was. If she rubbed them, it wouldn't feel the same. But his hands? They made all the tension melt away.

She inhaled deeply, her body relaxing under his touch. "Suck them for me..." she murmured, barely above a whisper.

Tank smirked against her skin. "Say less, lil bit."

He shifted lower, taking his time, kissing down her collarbone before his lips finally found their way to one of her swollen breasts. His mouth was hot, wet, and gentle as he wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking slowly.

Kayla whimpered, her fingers threading through his hair as a shiver ran down her spine. The ache, the tenderness—Tank made it all feel good.

He groaned against her skin as he sucked, flicking his tongue over her nipple, his hand massaging the other breast. He was addicted to her body, to the way she reacted to him, to the way she trusted him completely.

"Damn, baby," he mumbled against her skin before taking the other nipple into his mouth, giving it the same attention.

Kayla's body arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Mmm, Tank..."

He smirked, loving the way she melted under him. He wasn't just making her feel good—he was taking care of her.

And he'd never get tired of doing it.

Tank took his time, his tongue swirling over her sensitive nipple as his hand massaged the other. Kayla's body responded instantly, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her fingers tightened in his hair.

"You like that, huh?" Tank murmured against her skin, his breath warm as he sucked gently.

Kayla nodded, her head tilting back against the pillow, her body relaxing deeper into the bed. "Mmm-hmm... Feels so good..."

Tank grinned, his free hand trailing down her side, rubbing slow circles over her belly. He could feel the firmness of her growing bump under his palm, a reminder of the little life they created.

He lifted his head, watching her as he ran his thumb over her hardened nipple. "You gon' be a good mama, lil bit."

Kayla opened her eyes, blinking up at him, her heart swelling at his words. "You think so?" she asked softly.

Tank nodded, his expression serious. "I know so. You already love him so much." His hand rubbed over her stomach again. "You gon' love on him like you love on me."

Kayla smiled, her eyes misting over as she placed her hand over his. "I just want to give him everything I didn't have."

Tank kissed her softly, his lips lingering. "We gon' do that together. You ain't doin' this alone."

Kayla exhaled, nodding. She believed him. Tank had proven time and time again that he was here to stay.

She sighed as his lips found their way back to her skin, placing soft kisses down her chest before trailing back up to her lips.

"You still tired?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Kayla yawned slightly. "A little."

Tank smirked. "That's 'cause I got you too relaxed." He kissed her forehead before tucking her against his chest.

Kayla melted into him, her body warm against his. "I love you, Tank."

Tank's arms tightened around her. "I love you too, lil bit."

She closed her eyes, feeling safe, feeling loved, as she drifted back to sleep in his arms.

While Tank and Kayla drifted off into a peaceful sleep, Coco was still fuming. Coco took another long pull from her cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke into the cool morning air. Hitting Darling once wasn't enough. That girl had it coming for a long time, but the fact that she chose to pull her bullshit at the gender reveal made it ten times worse.

Tanya sat back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Coco pace. "You real mad, huh?" she mused.

Coco shot her a sharp look. "Hell yeah, I'm mad. What kind of miserable bitch ruins a moment like that? She knew what she was doing. She wanted Kayla to cry. And she did. Nah, I ain't done with her ass."

Tanya smirked, shaking her head. "Her nose wasn't enough?"

Coco scoffed. "Fuck no. I want her to suffer. Same way she had Kayla damn near hyperventilating in that damn bathroom. Same way she had Tank losing his damn mind trying to get to her. I wanna see that bitch sobbing in the middle of the street like she ain't got nobody."

Tanya leaned forward, her lips pursed as she thought about what happened earlier. "Yeah... Tank was frantic," she said, shaking her head. "Like... I never seen him like that before. My baby brother was about to take that whole damn door off its hinges to get to her."

Coco nodded, eyes flashing. "Exactly! And that's why I'm not letting it go. Darling thought this shit was funny, but I bet she won't be laughing when I see her ass again. And I don't give a fuck if Dina tries to play peacemaker."

Tanya smirked, leaning back. "Yeah, when she comes outside, I'ma definitely let you know where she at. I want you to drag her ass."

Coco flicked her cigarette into the yard, exhaling sharply. "Good. 'Cause this ain't just about Kayla. Darling got my auntie upset. You know Auntie Sherri don't let nobody stress her, but she was mad as hell. She had to slap her and put that girl out."

Tanya's jaw tightened. "That's all I needed to hear. Make sure you dog walk her, Coco. That's for my brother, my nephew, my sister-in-law, and my mama. Shit, I should fight her my damn self."

Coco smirked, cracking her knuckles. "Nah, I got this. You just sit back and enjoy the show."

Two weeks passed, and everything was set in motion. Calvin Howard Sr. had done what he did best—moved in silence, used every connection, and made sure the system worked against Vince Taylor this time. By the time Fred got the final confirmation from his father, everything was locked in place.

All he, Frank, and Tank had to do was show up to court.

Jules Fontaine walked into the courthouse with the same air of arrogance he always carried. He was the best at what he did, a high-powered attorney who had never lost a case. To him, this was just another day at work. Another defendant, another courtroom, another win. He didn't know why the prosecution seemed so confident, but it didn't matter—he had been in the game too long to be rattled.

Vince, too, was confident. Sitting at the defense table in a crisp suit, he smirked like he already knew the outcome. As far as he was concerned, this was just a temporary inconvenience.

But Martha, Martha wasn't smiling.

She sat quietly behind Vince, her usual presence dimmed by the weight of uncertainty. Her nails tapped anxiously against her Coach purse, her posture stiff, her breathing uneven. She didn't know why, but something felt off. The air in the courtroom was different. There was no desperation on the prosecution's side, no last-minute scrambling.

Instead, Fred, Frank, and Tank sat with an air of certainty, completely at ease. It wasn't forced confidence—it was the type of confidence that came when you knew something no one else did.

Tank sat between his brothers-in-law, his face unreadable, his body still. The rage that had burned in him for weeks had settled into something more dangerous—cold patience. His anger wasn't gone. It was waiting.

Fred checked his phone one last time before sliding it back into his pocket. Everything was in place.

Frank glanced at his watch. "It's about that time."

The bailiff called the court to order.

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Alan Whitmore."

The judge entered, his expression unreadable as he took his seat. He wasted no time. "We are here for the case of State of Georgia versus Vince Taylor." He glanced at the defense. "Mr. Fontaine, how does your client plead?"

Jules stood smoothly, buttoning his jacket. "Not guilty, Your Honor."

Judge Whitmore gave a small nod before turning to Frank, who rose confidently.

"Mr. Hampton, proceed with your opening."

Frank took his time, adjusting his tie before speaking. His voice was steady, deliberate.

"Your Honor, today we're going to show exactly why Vince Taylor belongs behind bars. Not just for trespassing, not just for his threats, but because he is a danger to the community. We have clear evidence, credible witnesses, and an airtight case." He paused, letting his words settle. Then, he glanced at Vince, his lips curling slightly.

"By the time we're done, there will be no doubt—Vince Taylor is never walking free again."

Jules smirked, unmoved, but Vince's confidence took a slight hit.

Martha, her heart pounded. She could feel it now. Something wasn't right. She could see it in the way Fred and Frank sat with perfect ease, the way Tank looked like a man who had already won. No one on that side of the courtroom seemed remotely concerned.

She swallowed hard, shifting in her seat.

Judge Whitmore adjusted his glasses and looked toward Frank. "Mr. Hampton, you may call your first witness."

Frank stood smoothly. "The prosecution calls Detective Brian Carson to the stand."

A murmur rippled through the courtroom as a tall, no-nonsense Black man in a sharp suit stepped forward. Brian Carson was a name people knew—a decorated detective with a reputation for being ruthless when it came to putting criminals behind bars.

Jules' smirk faltered. Just slightly.

Vince's confidence took its first real hit as he leaned toward Jules. "Who the hell is that?" he muttered under his breath.

Jules didn't answer. Instead, he straightened his tie as Brian Carter was sworn in.

Frank wasted no time. "Detective Carson, how long have you been working in law enforcement?"

"Eighteen years," the detective answered smoothly.

"And in those eighteen years, have you handled cases involving criminal enterprises, organized crime, and repeat offenders?"

"Many times."

Frank nodded. "And in the course of your work, have you come across the name Vince Taylor before?"

Jules was already on his feet. "Objection. Relevance."

Judge Whitmore barely looked at him. "Overruled."

Jules clenched his jaw as Frank turned back to Detective Carson.

"Yes, I have," Carson confirmed. "Vince Taylor has been flagged in multiple investigations regarding illegal firearms and violent offenses. However, due to insufficient evidence and witness intimidation, he has repeatedly avoided prosecution."

A ripple of whispers spread across the room.

Vince stiffened. Martha's stomach dropped.

Jules stood again, this time forcing a polite smile. "Your Honor, this is highly prejudicial—"

Frank cut in smoothly. "Your Honor, the prosecution is simply establishing a pattern of behavior. Mr. Taylor is no stranger to the law, and today, we intend to prove that his actions against this victim are part of a larger, more disturbing trend."

Judge Whitmore turned to Jules. "Objection overruled."

Jules sat down, his jaw tight.

Frank turned back to the witness. "Detective Carson, can you tell the court what evidence your department has gathered in this case?"

Brian Carson pulled out a file, flipping it open. "We have recorded threats made against the victim, Kayla Knight, including audio and text messages. We have surveillance footage of Mr. Taylor trespassing on private property despite multiple signs of warning. We also have sworn statements from witnesses detailing Mr. Taylor's actions, including an attempt to forcibly enter the home."

Martha sucked in a sharp breath.

Jules? For the first time, he looked confused. He didn't know about any of this. None of this had been in the original discovery.

What the hell was going on? Jules thought to himself.

Vince sat up straighter, his smirk completely gone. "That's bullshit," he muttered. "They lyin'."

Jules exhaled sharply through his nose, fighting to maintain his composure. He had never walked into a courtroom without knowing every single piece of evidence being used against his client. But right now, he was blindsided.

He glanced toward the prosecution's table, watching the way Fred and Frank barely reacted. Like they knew this was coming. Like they had planned this.

And then there was Tank. Sitting still, watching Vince. Not saying a word.

Jules' stomach turned slightly. This wasn't a fair fight. This was an ambush.

The courtroom felt heavier with every passing second.

Jules Fontaine, always poised, always in control, suddenly felt something he wasn't accustomed to—uncertainty. He had been blindsided before, but never like this. He prided himself on knowing everything before stepping into a courtroom. Yet, here he was, watching the prosecution present evidence he hadn't accounted for, watching his client stiffen beside him, and watching the smug confidence radiating from Fred, Frank, and Tank.

Something was very wrong.

Vince was no longer leaning back in his chair. His hands were clasped together tightly, his jaw clenched. He could feel the shift. He was in control—until now.

Behind them, Martha sat still, her breath shallow. Her gut was telling her something big was coming, but she didn't know what. She had never seen Vince like this before—he looked rattled.

Frank turned back to Detective Carson, his tone smooth and deliberate.

"Detective Carter, you mentioned surveillance footage. Could you please explain what that footage shows?"

Jules straightened, ready to object—until Carson answered.

"The footage shows Vince Taylor entering the private estate of Terrance Carter Sr. without authorization. This occurred after a direct warning to stay off the property. The footage also includes audio, in which Mr. Taylor can be heard making verbal threats against Kayla Knight while referencing to her unborn child."

A wave of murmurs swept through the courtroom.

Vince turned to Jules sharply. "What the fuck is he talkin' about?" he hissed.

Jules didn't answer. He was still processing.

Frank let the moment sit before continuing. "And tell me, Detective Carson, was this the only instance of Mr. Taylor making threats?"

"No," Carter said plainly. "We have additional evidence. Cell phone records indicate multiple calls made from Mr. Taylor to Ms. Knight, all of which included verbal intimidation and harassment."

Jules shot up. "Objection! Your Honor, this evidence was not provided during discovery—"

Judge Whitmore barely glanced at him. "Counselor, sit down."

The authority in his voice sent a ripple through the room. Jules never got shut down that quickly.

Tank smirked. Vince's knee started bouncing.

Frank pressed on, his voice carrying the weight of victory. "Detective Carson, are there any additional findings the court should be aware of?"

Carson nodded. "Yes. The state has obtained bank records that show direct payments from Mr. Taylor to individuals tied to violent offenses, including intimidation and assault. These records indicate an attempt to coerce and silence witnesses related to this case."

That was it.

Jules Fontaine felt it in his gut.

Checkmate.

Martha's entire body went cold. She stared at Vince, expecting him to have an answer, a plan—something. But for the first time, he looked caught.

Vince clenched his fists, his breathing uneven. He wasn't used to feeling like this. He had always been untouchable.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

Fred leaned back in his chair, watching the panic settle in. Frank kept his face smooth, professional, but there was a glint in his eyes. And Tank?

Tank just sat there, calm as ever.

Watching.

Waiting.

Judge Whitmore cleared his throat. "Does the defense have a response?"

Jules hesitated—for the first damn time in his career.

He turned to Vince. Vince turned to him and for the first time, Jules Fontaine had nothing to say. Silence stretched through the courtroom like a taut wire, ready to snap.

Jules Fontaine had no rebuttal, no counterstrike. He was never unprepared, never at a loss. But right now? Right now, he was drowning.

Vince stared at him, his nostrils flaring. "Fix this."

But Jules couldn't.

Frank let the moment marinate before standing, slow and deliberate. He adjusted his suit jacket, glancing between Jules and Vince before speaking directly to the judge.

Vince turned to Jules, eyes wild. "DO SOMETHING!"

Jules barely moved, his mind working a mile a minute, but there was nothing to be done. The evidence was airtight and whatever Fred's father had set in motion had worked flawlessly.

Fred sat back, watching the chaos unfold, completely unbothered. Frank had a ghost of a smirk on his face, but it was Tank who caught Vince's eyes.

Tank.

Sitting there, arms crossed, calm as ever.

And smirking.

That smirk hit Vince in the chest like a gut punch.

"You motherf—"

Before he could finish, the bailiffs snatched him back, restraining him.

"Get off me!" Vince roared, his voice echoing through the courtroom.

Martha stood abruptly, her heart hammering. She didn't even know what to do. How had this happened? Jules stayed frozen in place, staring straight ahead, knowing his reputation had just taken its first major loss.

And on the other side of the room, Fred finally spoke.

"Lemme give you some advice, Vince," he said coolly, just loud enough for him to hear. "Next time? You better know who the fuck you're playing with."

Vince shouted something unintelligible as he was dragged through the courtroom doors.

And just like that, the untouchable man was gone.