Page 53 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
“Bullshit, nigga. A week ago, you never even knew he existed. You don’t want him. You want the clout that comes with being attached to him,” I barked back, each word slicing through the tension like a samurai sword. “You gave up your parental rights the second you decided to take my father’s life. And now, thanks to you, the only father your son will ever know isme,” I acknowledged, my voice cold and final.
The air between us crackled with our pasts, distant childhood memories and allegiance turned to betrayal. Our feud was bigger than Simora and Mason. It was about everything we’d been through, from my triumphs to his inadequacies. And now, a child neither of us planned for in the center of our war that had been years in the making.
At that moment, something inside me clicked, and I made a decision I’d never have to question. I would show Jadarius exactly what it felt like to have his family stolen right out from underneath him. I would be the father Mason deserved, end of story.
“We’ll see about that when the DNA test comes,” Jadarius muttered.
“You think I give a fuck what a DNA test says, nigga?”
“You should,” he snapped back. “Because I will be in my son’s life. I don’t give a fuck how much money you got in the bank or how many bitch ass bodyguards you got fighting your battles. I’m coming for what’s mine.”
My jaw tensed. “If you step foot anywhere near him, I promise?—”
“Cut the shit, Donny. You don’t make promises, nigga. You compromise. That’s what your father taught us both to do. And trust me—with the shit I know, I could turn your entire empire to dust. Don’t forget I know the real you.”
I didn’t flinch. Instead, I took another step closer, the shadows clinging to me like a second skin as I clasped my gloved hand around his throat, squeezing it like a stress ball. It took all the discipline in the world for me not to beat the fuckin’ brakes off his black ass for all that he’d done—from my father to Simora and Mason—but I knew his time was coming. There would be no DNA test. No more exclusive interviews. No more acknowledgement of his existence in the news cycle after a few weeks. It was all about to end. I’d make fuckin’ sure of it.
“If you know me, then you know what happens to mothafuckas who make idle threats,” I stated calmly, keeping his neck firmly in my grasp. “They vanish . . . like smoke. They get buried in nameless graves. They get forgotten, nigga.”
I pushed him away, watching him cough and draw in his next breath, thanks to me. Jadarius’s brown eyes narrowed to slits. “Y-you’re threatening me when you’re the one who stole my life?” he growled, voice still raspy after I’d pinched his vocal cords.
I scoffed. “This life was always mine, and what’s for me will always be for me, nigga. And now, what’s yours is mine too,” I replied, my tone icy and unforgiving.
I spun on my heels to exit without saying anything else, the thick door sealing behind me with a booming sound. Jadarius had broken the code and betrayed me a long time ago. Now, he was naming names and doing anything to try to get famous for something other than the murder of my father.He should’ve known I was my father’s son. I had murderers handy. My father had always seen him for what he was—a means to an end. And in that moment, so did I. He’d provided the seed that created Mason. His job was done.
Outside, my security detail of trained goons waited for me. But I still didn’t speak. Instead, I pulled out my burner phone and sent a message—encoded and intended to have my fatal request carried out in silence and turn discord back into peace. I was too rich to put my hands on him myself, but not too rich to send a hit. Because Jadarius Washington wanted access to Mason’s and Simora’s lives. And I planned to make sure his ass never got it.
When I made it back to my ride, my real phone pinged with a notification that the LEGO rocket kit I’d purchased for Mason had been delivered. A satisfactory smile stretched across my face. I knew I’d made the right decision. I’d do anything,anywhere, anytime for them, to make sure they were good. Now all I had to do was win them back.
Later that night.
I’d never been nervous approaching any door. Not during my first billion-dollar acquisition, not when facing hostile boards, not even when I signed for my first LLC at eighteen. Yet there I stood, shifting my weight from foot to foot, outside Simora’s apartment building. I had to wait until another resident went inside and followed them in. Not my proudest moment, but desperate times and shit.
I was there, standing before her door with my heart hammering like I was about to jump off a cliff.
Maybe I was.
I knocked softly at first, then more firmly when there was no answer. I heard movement inside—a child’s voice, her gentle hushing.
“I know you’re in there, Sim,” I called out through the door. “Please, just gimme five minutes.”
The peephole darkened. She was looking at me. I imagined her face with expressions of anger, hurt, and confusion. I deserved it all, and I’d take it all.
The door opened just a crack; the chain was still fastened at the top. “What do you want?” Her voice was steel, nothing like the warmth I’d grown addicted to.
“To apologize. To explain.”
“I think you explained yourself perfectly on the jet,” she replied before starting to close the door.
“Hold up, Sim.” I jammed my expensive red-sole patent loafers in the gap—a desperate move that sent pain shooting up my leg. “Mason’s medical bills. I paid them. And the nurse who leaked his photo? She’s fired.”
The door paused. “Thanks, but I never asked you to do that. And good,” she said with a scoff. “Serves her ass right.”
I swallowed hard. “I know. It wasn’t a payoff or charity. It was . . . I don’t know. The only thing I could think of that might help. And I talked to Jadarius. I know the truth now.”
“So do I,” she replied.
My brows creased. “What do you mean?”
