Page 49 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
I couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted from me after all these years, and what Adonis really thought of me now that my secret was out. Knowing what he said and how he looked were things I’d probably never be able to get out of my head.
“Shit,” I mumbled as a tear slipped down my cheek. The more I tried to forget him, the more thoughts of him flooded my mind like an ocean.
I’d wanted to explain to him the moment I connected the dots. I had chance after chance to, but every time I thought about doing it, I could never find the right words. There hadn’t been a Hallmark card invented for such an occasion.
As emotionally distressed as I was, I knew how badly my son and I needed that money. But spending it felt wrong now that everything had come out about Mason’s father and his ties to Adonis’s father’s murder. If I spent it, did that make the rumors true? Would I be a gold digger? Would it somehow make me disloyal, like I’d been secretly playing for the other team the entire time?
A soft knock on the door snatched my attention back to the present as my neck jerked in its direction. I got up and tiptoed over to it, pressing my eye against the peephole—it was Mrs. Wilson. I quickly undid both locks and turned the knob.
“Hi, Mrs. Wilson. Is everything okay?” I quizzed, dabbing my eyes.
“I forgot to give you your mail, honey,” she explained, handing me an envelope. “That damn mailman is always mixing up your mail with mine.”
I took it from her without examining it much and nodded. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”
I dipped my chin. “Will do. Hold up a second, Mrs. Wilson. I have something for you too.”
Mrs. Wilson raised a questioning brow before dipping her chin. “Okay.”
I quickly moved to the kitchen counter, where my purse rested. I opened my checkbook and wrote a$1,000.00check, my hand slightly shaking as I scribbled my signature on the line. I returned with the check in hand and presented it to her.
“It’s not diamonds, but it’s just something to say thank you for everything. I couldn’t get through life without you,” I told her.
Mrs. Wilson glanced down at the paper check, then took a small step backward into the hallway.
“You don’t owe me anything, Simora. You know I love that little boy as if he were my own grandson.”
I nodded. “I know. And I know you probably think it’s too much, but I really want you to have it. It’s my way of saying thank you for being more than a neighbor. For being my lifeline.”
She smirked. “Well, maybe I’ll put it toward a massage. Or one of those fancy robot vacuums.”
I cheesed, feeling thankful that I’d been able to bless her. “Treat yourself, Mrs. Wilson. Do both.”
Mrs. Wilson leaned in to kiss my cheek before turning to go with the check clutched in her hand. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re an amazing mother. Always have been, always will be.”
I smiled before easing the door closed and relocking it before taking an honest look at the envelope she’d given me. It was addressed to me with a stamp on the front that read:The Department of Corrections has neither censored nor inspected this item and assumes no responsibility for its content.
“Fuck,” I muttered as my hands began to tremble. He knew my address because I was still living in the same rent-controlled apartment where I had been living when we broke up. I couldn’t afford to move anywhere else.
I popped open the envelope with my heartbeat racing at a million miles a minute. There was a folded letter inside. I quickly unfolded it, hating that I heard his voice in my head with every word I read.
Sim,
It’s been a minute—about five years to be exact.
I saw you on TV recently with a designer dress on your back and an expensive nigga on your arm to match. Funny how small this world is—the same nigga that put that big ass rock on your finger and got you flying on private jets—the one you’ve got my son hanging around and probably calling daddy—we used to be boys. More than boys. We used to be brothers. So, imagine my surprise when I hear the blogs talking about he’s got a kid whose face is half mine.
I don’t know what type of shit you’re on, but you can keep lying to yourself and him, but not me. My son’s not a secret you can keep from me anymore. He’s my blood, and I deserve to be in his life. When my day comes and they let me out of here, know I’m coming to set things straight.
My son will know who his real father is, believe that.
I’m coming for him.
A gasp escaped my lips as I slowly read the last sentence over and over. It felt like a whispered threat—like a vow or a hill he didn’t mind dying on. I crumpled it up and shoved it deep into the trash can. As far as I forced it down, it didn’t purge his words from my head. I couldn’t get my pulse to stop racing.
What if he gets out and tries to take me to court for visitation rights? What if he tries to take Mason away from me completely?At least I had money to get a lawyer if I needed to, although that money would get eaten up quickly for a good one. I wished his ass was a chapter I could edit out of my story, but he wasn’t. And without him, I wouldn’t have Mason.
