Page 46 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
Revealing Mason’s true paternity had sparked a big ass scandal, casting doubt on the model family narrative Simora and I had spent the last week seamlessly crafting. Jadarius was no longer an inmate—he was a headline and a liability in the works.
He wanted to tarnish my business reputation so he could build his own. His move wasn’t just about claiming his seed. It was about reclaiming whatever drop of power he could get from inside his dusty ass, six-by-eight cell.
“He’s claiming all he wants is to see his son,” Ellis stated.
I sucked my teeth. “Don’t tell me you believed that mothafucka.”
“I never said I did, but I’m also a businessman just like you. This needs to go away, Holland, one way or another.”
I blew out a long exhale into the receiver before preparing to end the call. “Aight. Let me get my people on the line. I’ll handle this.”
“Let me know when it’s done,” Ellis replied before ending the call.
Jadarius wasn’t just an old friend. He was someone my father trusted to handle his business when he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. Now, he was rotting away in prison for murder, being forgotten as each day of his sentence slowly slithered by. By going public, he’d forced Simora and me into the headlines involuntarily. Every move we made had been placed under a microscope with internet sleuths trying to assemble pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit. As much as I wanted to crack his jaw in half with my bare hands, I couldn’t react emotionally. I had to be calculated.
He knew this messy revelation could ruin my reputation, business, and future. Not to mention what it would do to Simora and his own son. With one call from Ellis, his news had already managed to shake the walls of my private jet. He was going to try to use Mason as the key to destroy everything I’d built, and I wasn’t going to fucking let him. If he was planning to come for mine, his ass was going to learn exactly what I’d do to make sure the ghosts from my past stayed silent.
A few seconds after the nerve-wracking call with Ellis, I was staring at numerous headlines flooding my screen and hundreds of social media mentions. The media had reported it—and the social media vultures had fucking devoured it.
“Billionaire’s Future Stepson’s Paternity Exposed”
“Billionaire’s Fairy Tale Wedding On Ice After Prison Paternity Leak”
“Billionaire’s Fiancée Linked To Murderer Of Mogul’s Father”
“Gold-Digging In Givenchy: Ceo’s Fiancée Linked To Soon-To-Be Father-In-Law’s Murderer”
“From Cell Block To Baby Daddy: Jadarius Washington Tells All”
“Convicted Felon Claims Paternity Of Adonis Holland’s Stepson”
Underneath the screaming headlines were photos of Simora and me holding hands in the hospital, the mugshot of the mothafucka convicted of murdering my father, and a photo of Mason in the middle. My jaw ticked, and my grip tightened around the phone. I was either two seconds from flinging it across the plane or snapping it in half. Before I made a move, it was vibrating in my palm with calls and emails from my lawyers and assistant, Rita.
“How the fuck did this happen?” I demanded to know.
Rita cleared her throat. “From what I know so far, he contacted a blogger claiming to be the biological father of the child whose mother is about to marry Adonis Holland, the successful billionaire. It’s clickbait waiting to happen, so they ran with it without hesitation. Especially since he’s claiming he’ll take a paternity test to corroborate his story,” she confirmed through the speakerphone. “Now all the media outlets are running with it, spinning the story backward and forward. I have the PR team en route to HQ now, ready to think of a strategy to get ahead of this.”
“I land in fifteen minutes. I want this shit handled by tonight,” I growled into the receiver before ending the call.
I slammed the phone on the ground just as Simora emerged from the room, fully dressed, composed except for the redness around her eyes and her concerned expression when she saw the look on my face.
“We have a fuckin’ problem,” I announced, my glare colder than Titanic water. “A big one.”
Her eyes popped wide. “W-what? What is it?”
“Not what. Who.”
“I don’t understand . . .”
“Were you ever planning to tell me who Mason’s father was?” I probed, my tone was borderline accusatory.
“W-what?”
“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Sim. I know your baby daddy is the mothafucka who murdered my father!” I barked, unable to hold in what I knew any longer.
Simora instantly shuffled back a step or two before her posture stiffened, freezing her in place. I watched her mouth fall open, but she remained speechless. Her gaze was flat as she blinked rapidly, trying to process what she’d just heard. My paranoia had me questioning if she was just as shocked as I wasor if she was playing the same role she’d been playing all week—a charming liar.
She burst into tears before speaking. “Oh my God, D. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hide the truth from you or hurt you, I swear.”
