Page 14 of Blake University HBCU Chronicles: Nuri & Silas

" A re you sure there's nothing we can do to keep you here with us? You're the best psychology professor that we have. It'll be impossible to replace you," Sarah Edwards, the President of Blake University did her best to persuade him despite her understanding of his reason for wanting to leave.

Sometimes growth meant releasing the old to make room for the new things that were waiting to be manifested in your life.

It hit different walking through fire for the right reasons.

Letting go of Blake meant cutting ties with comfort, being one step closer to the truth, and closer to protecting Nuri from whatever the fuck her father had going on.

He was a snake in a tailored suit, but Silas was on his ass.

"I've enjoyed my time here, and I appreciate everything I learned through being employed by such a grand University. I'll be making a few visits when The Phi's call for me, or if you ever need a favor." Silas told Sarah sincerely.

Sarah extended her hand and Silas met her in the middle. "Farewell, Mr. Sullivan. It's been a pleasure getting to know you.

"Likewise, Mrs. Edwards." Silas had done exceptionally well as a psychology professor, but he also understood that he had broken the code of ethics by crossing the line with Nuri.

He didn't regret his decision to resign from Blake University because well.

.. Nuri Sinclair was the exception. He'd found his one, and that was enough to satisfy him for a lifetime.

Silas stepped out of the president’s office into the quiet hum of Blake University’s administrative corridor.

His gait was unhurried, but his mind? Racing.

Every step away from that office felt like closure—marking the end of an era, and the beginning of something that hadn’t even been fully written yet.

He didn’t look back because the moment he did, he knew the weight of everything he’d poured into that institution might crack open inside him.

He wasn’t just leaving a job. He was leaving a legacy.

A cover that allowed him to navigate the double life he lived with a finesse only someone like him could master.

He had money, power, and options. But Nuri was a fucking wild card.

One that made him fold every time. He walked out of the building and climbed into his black-on-black Maybach and closed the door behind him.

As soon as he ignited his engine, Future’s Type Shit crooned through the car speakers, then seconds later his phone rang.

“What’s good, boss? You still at Blake or already on your way to the house?” Memphis inquired, using his key fob to unlock his car.

“I’m good, bruh. Just now leavin’ Blake. Everything a’ight? Silas asked, pulling out of his parking spot.

“I stopped by the warehouse not too long ago, and a black envelope was delivered with your name on the front,” Memphis revealed.

Silas listened attentively, clenching the steering wheel. This situation had Boyds’ name written all over it, because only a select few knew about the warehouse, and Silas had set up a P.O. Box years ago when it was first built.

“I’m on my way. Meet me at the house in The Legends,” Silas replied then hung up.

About Twenty Minutes Later…

Silas had several houses around Atlanta due to the lifestyle he led, he never got too comfortable in one spot.

He understood that though he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder, and his enemies weren’t gunning for his head; he still had to use his mind to stay two steps ahead so he could remain on top.

He’d built his whole empire on outsmarting muthafuckas who thought they had a game.

The Feds.

Dirty Cops.

Politicians.

He’d danced with all of them and never missed a beat.

Frankly, Boyd had fucked with the wrong nigga because Silas was about to set the floor on fire.

Pulling up to his house in The Legends, he silenced his engine, noticing that Memphis had made it there before him.

He exited his ride, and made his way inside to see what the hell was inside the envelope.

“What’s good, bruh?” Silas greeted as he walked through the door.

“It’s all good, bruh,” Memphis returned, dapping his mans’ up, and pulling him in for a brotherly hug. “Here you go,” he said, handing him the envelope.

Silas got silent, but appreciated Memphis’ ability to get down to business. When he opened the envelope, he pulled out a white piece of paper that said,

“The Crown Belongs To Me Bitch!”

Real men weren't hard to please, and real women were a high commodity.

Somehow Nuri and Silas had defied the odds when they crossed paths.

Beyond the sound of Sevyn Streeter's Before I Do pulsing through the speakers, when Silas walked through the door not only did he feel his woman, he smelled her.

"Hey there handsome," Nuri greeted, trying to meet Silas at the door.

Silas had no idea how good a real woman could make him feel when he walked through the door, until Nuri. "What up, baby," kissing her lips gently. "Been thinkin' 'bout 'cha all day."

"Today was crazy, baby. I gotta tell you something, and I’d rather you hear it from me than anyone else. Follow me to your office so I can show you," Nuri said, taking charge.

He loved how she'd made herself comfortable in his home.

She didn't wait for permission, or call him a dozen times to ask was anything okay. She maneuvered and did what she needed to do as if she belonged there. She did as far as he was concerned. Silas stood behind his desk, combing through and studying every document Nuri had uncovered. The flicker of the fireplace to his left cast dancing shadows across the papers spread out like puzzle pieces from a game he didn’t even know he was playing to this capacity.

Nuri leaned against the edge of his desk, her arms crossed over her chest like armor, watching him as he read in silence.

"Where you get all this from?" Silas asked, as soon as his eyes landed on Ali’s picture. "Why the hell yo' hoe'ass father got this picture?"

"My father's office today. Someone had sent me a short video clip of you and I from the club and a picture, but I kept it to myself.

I honestly didn't know what to do. I was hoping you could give me some clarity.

All I know about that man is that he was my mother's high school sweetheart.

" Nuri told him honestly. "Do you know him? "

"Hell yea, I know him. He's my mentor. Silas answered, scratching his head. Shit was getting thick and nothing was making sense. “Who did you tell?”

"I haven't told anyone anything. Especially not after overhearing the tail end of my father's conversation.

I wanted to come to you about it, but when you sent me that text ending things.

I really didn't know who to trust. I mean don't get me wrong, Bre is my best friend, but I wasn't about to broadcast our business like that. "

Silas nodded, appreciating the fact that Nuri understood what was at stake, and had considered him even though she didn't know where stood in his life or heart.

Why the hell would Boyd have a picture of Ali?

Why the fuck would he want to set his daughter up?

What is the connection does all this shit have to Nuri?

“Talk to me,” Nuri said softly, her voice the only thing keeping the room from collapsing under the weight of truth.

Silas looked up, and in his eyes lived a tsunami. Not the kind that brought thunder and chaos, but the type that pulled levees from the earth and reshaped entire cities.

“You ain’t supposed to be in the middle of this,” he muttered.

“I agree, but I need to know what’s going on,” she pressed.

Silas slid one of the flash drives into his laptop.

The screen glowed, illuminating both their faces as confidential files opened like trap doors.

Shell companies. Money trails. Contracts tied to her name.

There was even a separate file labeled “DISMANTLE MARCIANO”—complete with a forged signature at the bottom of multiple transactions Nuri had never seen in her life.

“Your father grimy as fuck, and he playin’ a dirty game,” Silas finally said, the smooth cadence of his voice cloaked in danger now. “These accounts got your name all over them. If this shit goes public, baby, they ain’t just coming for him… they comin’ for you too.”

Nuri’s knees weakened as she processed the revelation Silas dropped on her.

“Why does he hate me so much?” she whispered on the verge of tears. “Why would he do this to me?”

Silas stood, closing the distance between them in four strides.

He framed her face with his hands, holding her close.

“'Cause you the only thing he can't control. You got too much light, Nuri. Niggas like him are cowards who hate to see other people’s light. He thrives on trying to smother it. That’s why he put you on the front line… hopin’ you'd take the fall before anyone caught on to what he’d been doin’. ”

Nuri’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She’d known her father was emotionally cold, hell, sometimes cruel; but to use her as a pawn… That shattered something deep inside of her.

Silas turned back to the screen and paused, pulling up the image of Ali again. “You said this was your mom’s old high school sweetheart?”

Nuri nodded. “Yeah. I remember the stories my mom used to tell about him. She loved him immensely, and said he was the one who got away. I never understood why she married my father. Her eyes never lit up when she spoke of or to my father, but the memories she shed with this man here was the real deal. I could feel it when she spoke about him. I believe his name is Ali Contrell Marciano. My mom always said his full name. She was the only one who could call him that.”