Page 193 of Kentrell

“She probably knows… yeah, she knows. The way she looks at me makes sense now. Not just judgment… it’sdisdain.”

I paused… letting that sit heavy.

“They hate me, Kentrell. I can feel it… every time I walk into that building. Every time I speak in meetings… every time my name comes up on an internal email thread.”

He glanced at me again… quick but attentive.

Didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t rush me.

“And Darius…” My voice cracked. “He had the audacity to put me up in his building. Give me a job at his firm. Like I’m some trophy he earned from breaking his vows. Parading me around… making me sit across from his wife and son at holiday parties… while I smiled and called himMr. Andersonlike a damn fool.”

My stomach twisted.

I could still see his signature on my offer letter. Still remember how proud I was when I got the job. How I’d called my mama—her—to tell her the good news.

His name sat at the bottom of that paper like some sick joke.

“God…” I whispered. “I have to resign.”

“Nah.”

Kentrell’s voice came out low but solid.

“Don’t do no stupid shit like that.”

I blinked, turning toward him, frowning.

“How is that stupid? Do you even know who I am to Darius?—”

“You emotional, Bae,” he cut in, voice tight but even. “I get it. I do. But don’t let your feelings get you caught up making permanent decisions over temporary pain.”

His hands flexed on the wheel, knuckles going pale as the muscles in his forearms pulled tight under his hoodie sleeves.

“Them folks never said a word to you, right? Never treated you like some secret kid. Not to your face.”

I hesitated… but shook my head. “No.”

“Exactly,” he said. “That ain’t pride. That’s ignorance or survival. If she does know—which I doubt.” He shrugged it off. “Shit, all I know is that lady was born into a wealthy-ass family and prolly had to endure scandals that never graced Sun-Times or made it on WGN late-night news. If she tryna save face. That lady don’t want the city knowing her husband had a whole daughter tucked in his back pocket.”

His words hit me low.

Hard.

“And Malcolm?”

Kentrell’s tone dipped colder… darker.

“You think he’d let that slide without dragging his daddy’s name through the mud? Publicly?”

The way he said Malcolm’s name… like it was dipped in venom… made me shift in my seat.

I turned to study him, slower this time.

His jaw was locked now. One temple twitching as he ground his teeth.

“You don’t like him,” I said softly.

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