Page 5 of I See You

Harper was tied up with back-to-back clients at her gym, which meant Hassan was taking Helen to her doctor’s appointment.

He hated hospitals. The smell, the sterile white walls, the constant reminder of death creeping in every corner—it all made his skin crawl. But for her, he’d do anything.

And if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was be late. Helen didn’t tolerate it. If he even thought about showing up past their scheduled time, she’d be on his ass with a sharp tongue and a handful of well-aimed cuss words.

So he didn’t waste time.

Grabbinghiskeys,hesteppedoutofhishouse,themorning air cool against his skin. He slid into the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes-Benz Maybach, the soft hum of the engine barely audible as he pulled out of his long driveway. The gates surrounding his estate opened automatically, letting him exit the fortress he had built for himself, where 24-hour security ensured no one got too close.

He didn’t slow down as he merged onto the road, the city flashing past him in a blur.

Destination—South Memphis. The place where it all started. Hassan had tried morethan once to moveHelen out of thehood,but she wouldn’t hear it. She had lived in that same house for decades, the same one where she raised her twin boys—Hendrix and Hassan Sr. No amount of money, no promise of comfort, could pull her away from the place she called home.

Bougie neighborhoods, with their manicured lawns and stiff, uptight people, weren’t for her. She wanted her people. The ones who knew and respected her, the ones who had watched her sons grow into men.

And if anyone did have a problem?

They were too afraid of Hassan to act on it.

Hassan finally pulled up to the familiar brick house, slowing as he eased into the driveway. The place hadn’t changed—it still stood strong, just like the woman who lived inside.

As soon as he stepped out of his car, a familiar voice called out. “Hey, Hassan!”

He turned to see Ms. Marilyn, the elderly woman next door, standing in her front yard, tending to her flowers. Not many people got to call him by his real name, but Ms. Marilyn was one of them. She had been around as long as he could remember—probably before he even moved in with Helen. When his grandmother had to work late, Ms. Marilyn was the one who helped watch over him and Harper. She had always looked out for them.

Hassan flashed his signature smile, the one that made women weak and men envious, showing off a perfect row of pearly whites.

“Good mornin’, Ms. Marilyn,” he greeted, his deep voice smooth. “Tellyourgrandmothertocallmewhenshegetsthechance,”she called back, giving him a knowing look before turning her focus back to her flowers.

He nodded before heading up the steps, fishing out his key and letting himself inside.

“Madea!” His voice echoed through the house, the same house that had raised him, the same house that still looked nearly identical to the one he grew up in. A few things had changed over the years—new vases, fresher flowers—but the furniture was still the same, spotless and damn near brand new thanks to Helen’s obsession with keeping everything pristine.

“Nigga, stop all that yellin’ in my house! I’m in here!” Her sharp response made Hassan chuckle.

Helen Gaines had always been a firecracker, and clearly, nothing had changed. If anything, Hassan knew he got his blunt, take-no-shit attitude straight from her.

At 67, Helen still had the same smooth, vibrant chocolate skin that never aged, her short pixie-cut hair always styled to perfection. Even though her body was battling an illness she couldn’t fight forever, she didn’t look like she was sick. Most days, she moved like she was youngagain, refusing to let the cancer slow her down.

There were rough days, though. Days where the sickness would win. But Helen? Helen had never been the type to let anything—or anyone— keep her down for long.

The only thing she ever admitted to failing at in life was her own children.

One son had a gambling addiction so bad it got him and his wife killed right in front of their son. The other had been a pimp, knee-deep in the street life, living off women like it was his God-given right. Helen had done everything she could as a single mother, but in the end, the streets had swallowed them both.

She had told herself for years that she had done the best she could.

That she had tried.

But no matter how much she tried to shake the weight of it, she couldn’t help but feel like the cards had never been in her favor when it came to raising her sons.

She did get a second chance, though. Through Harper and Hassan.

Harperwasthriving,travelingtheworld,trainingtopathletes asasought-afterfitnesscoach.AndHassan?Hehadmadeaname for himself in the casino world, even if his empire had been built on something much darker.

The world may have seen him as a kingpin, a cold-blooded killer— but Helen knew better.

In her eyes, she had done right by them. And that was enough.

---