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Dressed in an all-black tux with gold cufflinks gleaming under the dim ballroom lighting, he exuded the kind of power that made people straighten up in his presence.

But Creed? Creed didn’t waver.

He had the same strong stance, the same quiet confidence that made it clear he wasn’t intimidated—even if he respected the man standing in front of him.

My daddy turned from his conversation, his sharp brown eyes landing on me first before flickering over to Creed.

“Daddy, this is Creed, Creed this is my daddy Lenox.” I smiled between them, hoping and praying it would go well. My dad had given Iman a hard time damn near every time he saw him, for the better half of a year, before he even considered giving him a chance.

"So, you’re the kid my daughter hasn’t stopped talking about," he mused, his deep voice calm but full of meaning.

“Daddy, please…” I felt heat rush to my face, but Creed didn’t even blink.

"Guess so," Creed admitted, his voice steady. My eyes flicked to him, a smirk playing on the corners of my lips.

My father smirked slightly, his gaze flickering between us before finally reaching for Creed’s hand. "Creed, was it?"

"Yes, sir. Creed Langston." Creed shook his hand, firm grip, steady eye contact.

My father nodded once, as if taking mental notes.

"She also told me you’ve got a best friend in a bad situation," he added.

"Yes, sir," Creed said, his tone more serious. "And I wanted to thank you, Mr. Bradshaw. For real. Nas means a lot to me, and you didn’t have to do that."

My father watched him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded. "You seem like a good kid."

Relief flickered through me.

Until—

"I just hope you have the discipline to stay focused," Sienna’s voice cut through the conversation like the stem of a rose being snapped in half. She slid next to my dad, sliding her hand into his.

Here we go.

I felt Creed stiffen slightly beside me, but his expression stayed smooth, unreadable. I turned, my eyes locking onto Sienna Bradshaw—the woman who could steal a room’s attention without saying a word.

Dressed in a sleek, fitted gold gown, her hair slicked back into a ponytail. My mother was effortlessly beautiful, in truth, even though it annoyed me, it was always a huge compliment when people brought up how much she and I looked alike. She looked every bit the star she always had been. And yet, her eyes were sharp, full of judgment as they landed on Creed.

"I assume you play a sport?" she asked, her tone casual but pointed.

Creed nodded, unbothered. "Yes ma’am. I play basketball, at Rutgers."

She hummed, sipping her champagne. "And that’s all?"

"Excuse me?" Creed’s eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Is that all you do?" she pressed, tilting her head. "What happens when the basketball stops bouncing? What’s the backup plan?"

I clenched my jaw. She had the audacity to question someone else’s dreams when she was once in the same position, standing outside of record labels singing, trying to get put on.

"Mommy—"

"It’s a valid question, Serenity," she interrupted smoothly, her eyes never leaving Creed. "Because you and I both know most young men think they’re invincible until reality slaps them in the face."

I exhaled sharply, but Creed? He didn’t even blink.

"I got plans," he said simply, his voice calm. "Basketball ain’t forever. I know that. That’s why I’ve been working to build relationships, making sure I have options beyond the game."