Page 12 of Certified Pressure 3 (Certified Pressure #3)

(Flashback)

When We Were Ten…

Ihad the brightest smile on my face as I watched Pluto twirl around in my mama’s dress.

The fabric dragged across the carpet, almost swallowing her up, but she held the sides like she was modeling on a runway, her little chest sticking out as if she was somebody’s grown wife.

Her hair was wrapped up in a scarf she’d tied wrong, and the bright red lipstick she had smeared across her mouth stretched way past the corners of her lips.

I laughed so hard I almost knocked over the teacup in my hand, but I caught it before it hit the saucer.

We had been playing dress up all day, sneaking into my mama’s closet and jewelry box like we were grown women with a reason to shine.

I had on one of her pearl necklaces that was too heavy for my little neck, and my fingers were stuffed with rings that slid right off every time I moved my hands too fast. My dress had a pile of clothes stuffed under it so my stomach looked big and round, and Pluto’s did too.

We had decided we were pregnant wives with rich husbands, and we took the role real serious.

Pluto strutted across the room in Mama’s heels that clacked against the floor, her little body wobbling but her face never breaking character.

“My husband said he gon’ buy me a big ol’ diamond when I push this baby out,” she announced, patting her fake belly like she was really carrying something inside it.

I sipped from my teacup like it was champagne and rolled my eyes, playing along. “Well, my husband bought me a house with twenty bedrooms last week, so I guess your little diamond don’t mean too much.”

She gasped, stumbling in the heels but catching herself quick. “Girl, you lying. Twenty bedrooms? For what?”

“So my babies can all have their own space,” I said, grinning, “and when I get tired of him, I’mma move to the other side of the house so I don’t gotta hear him snore.”

Pluto dropped down on the carpet beside me, nearly tripping on the dress. We laughed until our stomachs hurt, leaning into each other like we couldn’t breathe without one another. We poured more imaginary tea, pinky fingers in the air like we had seen rich ladies do in movies.

“My husband wears suits every day,” Pluto said, holding her cup close to her mouth, “and when he comes home, he give me money so I can go shopping.”

I nodded proudly, because I had seen my daddy do the same thing with Mama, even if it never seemed to be enough to keep her happy. “My husband also brings me flowers,” she added, “and he tells me I’m the prettiest girl in the whole world. Prettier than anybody.”

My face softened and I tilted my head. “That’s ‘cause you is.”

We both fell silent for a moment, just staring at each other. Even as kids we knew how to hype each other up, to remind each other that we were worth something. The world didn’t always make us feel that way, but when we were together, we built our own little bubble where nothing bad could get in.

Hours passed like that, the room turning into our stage as we kept pretending, switching roles and acting like we had grown-up problems and grown-up lives.

We held our fake bellies and waddled around, laughing about how tired we were of being pregnant and how our fake husbands better rub our feet when they got home.

It felt like freedom, like for a little while the house wasn’t heavy with all the things that usually weighed it down.

But then I heard that sharp edge in my mama’s voice echoing down the hall, slicing through our laughter like a knife. She was yelling again, her voice rising higher and higher until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Sterling, you think I’m stupid? Lipstick on your shirt, cum stains on your boxers, you walking in here smelling like a damn whore!”

Pluto froze mid-laugh, her eyes darting to mine.

I tried to keep smiling like it was part of the game, but then I heard my daddy’s voice, deep and angry, firing back at her.

The words tangled together but I caught enough to know what it was about.

Mama was accusing him of sleeping with other women again, and Daddy wasn’t denying it loud enough to make her stop.

A crash followed, sharp and loud, the sound of glass breaking against the wall.

I jumped, dropping my teacup, and it rolled across the floor spilling nothing because there was never anything inside it.

My chest felt heavy as Mama’s screaming grew louder, mixing with the deep rumble of Daddy shouting right back at her.

Pluto scooted closer to me without saying anything, her hands wrapping around mine. She pulled me into her arms even though she was smaller than me, rocking me like I was her baby. We sat there on the carpet, listening to the chaos spill out of the bedroom, listening to love twist into hate.

“Come on,” Pluto whispered after another crash shook the walls.

She stood up, tugging me by the hand, and I followed her even though my legs felt weak.

We tiptoed across the room, stepping out of Mama’s heels and letting the jewelry clatter to the floor.

The makeup smeared across our faces didn’t matter anymore.

We climbed into my bed, dragging the covers over our heads, trying to block out the shouting that refused to stop.

Mama’s voice cracked with anger, Daddy’s voice boomed with denial, and glass shattered again, closer this time.

I curled into Pluto’s chest, and she wrapped her arms around me tighter, humming a little tune like she thought it would drown out the noise.

She was only ten too, but somehow she knew how to protect me better than anybody else could.

“I can’t wait until we grown,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “We can run away together and never come back here.”

Pluto kissed the top of my head the way I had seen her mama do to her when she was upset. “We will,” she promised softly. “We’ll take care of each other forever. No matter what.”

The fighting kept going, but in that moment, I believed her. Because no matter how broken the house felt, no matter how much it hurt to hear my mama and daddy tear each other apart, I had Pluto. And as long as I had her, I could pretend for a little longer that everything would be okay…

Living life exclusively with Pressure for the past two weeks had me feeling like I was living in a fairytale.

I wasn’t used to this kind of rhythm, where every day felt like something out of a movie, where nothing was out of reach and the life I used to dream about was now sitting right in front of me.

His mansion alone was enough to keep me in awe, with the way maids moved through the halls quietly and assistants handled every little thing I didn’t even know needed handling.

My laundry got folded before I even thought to do it, and my nails were booked before I realized I needed a fill.

If I wanted a facial or some skin treatment I never even heard of, all it took was a word and someone was arranging it for me.

Pressure had made my life feel so different that it was almost overwhelming.

His cars lined the driveway like trophies, and I had my choice of which one I wanted to slide into each morning.

Sometimes I drove the Maybach because the seats hugged me like they were made for royalty.

Other days I took the Urus just to feel the engine growl when I pressed the gas.

I would pull up to the best restaurants, sit at tables where the chefs came out personally to greet us, and order meals that looked too pretty to even touch.

I ate things I never imagined I’d crave, and I shopped so much that the sales associates knew my name before I even walked through the door.

These past two weeks weren’t just about expensive gifts or private dinners though.

It was about the way Pressure moved, the way doors opened for him, and the way being with him meant the world looked at me differently.

I had access to one of his jets, not just a seat on it, but access like it was mine too.

That type of thing changed how I thought about myself.

I wasn’t the girl scrambling to put together outfits or begging a stylist for a last-minute slot.

I had racks of designer clothes delivered straight to the mansion.

I had skincare experts breaking down routines for me and products lined up on my vanity that cost more than rent checks.

But in the middle of all that glamour and ease, there was still this thought tugging at me…

With an engagement ring now sparkling on my finger, it felt like the right time to face my parents. I couldn’t hide behind excuses or distractions anymore. My mama needed to know, and my daddy needed to see me.

I stood in front of the mirror in the master suite, fixing the last curl in my hair.

The makeup artist had been gone for hours but my face still looked fresh.

I had slipped into a cream-colored dress that clung in the right places, with heels that made me feel taller, sharper, and more put together.

My nails gleamed when I adjusted the strap of my Chanel bag, the same bag I had just picked up the other day like it was nothing.

Walking out of the elevator and down the hall of the mansion, I couldn’t ignore how different this all felt.

Pressure wasn’t home to see me off, but everything around me screamed of his presence.

The guards by the front door straightened up when they saw me coming.

A driver was waiting outside, the sleek black car already running, ready to take me wherever I needed to go.

Sliding into the back seat, I clutched my Chanel like it was more than a bag.

It was a reminder of how far I had come, and how this life wasn’t just something I imagined anymore.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror and asked if I was ready.

I nodded and leaned back against the soft leather, staring out the window as the mansion gates opened and we pulled onto the road.

The closer we got to the airstrip where the jet waited, the more my thoughts drifted toward my parents.

My father had always been the one who spoiled me.

He made sure I had what I wanted, whether it was clothes, jewelry, or trips.

He treated me like his little princess, and that’s a bond I carried even when I was grown.

But that bond came with a price, and my mama never let me forget it.

Silky and Sterling had been at war for as long as I could remember, and somewhere along the way I became part of their battleground.

My daddy’s infidelity was no secret, and Mama had a way of making me feel like I carried that weight for him.

I never knew if she resented me or just couldn’t separate me from the hurt he caused her, but the distance between us was always there.

She’d look at me and say things with this edge, like I was another woman in his life instead of her child.

It wasn’t something I could explain out loud, but I felt it every time she cut me down, and reminded me of how I didn’t need to think I was special just because my father treated me a certain way.

I never liked to call it jealousy, because I didn’t really know what it was.

All I knew was it stung like hell. It made me grow up quicker than I wanted to, figuring out how to guard my feelings so they wouldn’t get trampled by her moods.

That tension with my mama shaped me more than I realized, and now here I was, on my way to tell her I was planning a wedding with a man who gave me more than I thought life could ever hand me.

The driver’s voice broke through my thoughts when he announced we were arriving.

The jet gleamed in the afternoon sun, the stairs lowered and attendants already in place.

I stepped out of the car, my heels clicking against the pavement, and for a moment it hit me all over again.

This wasn’t rented luxury, and this wasn’t a quick taste of someone else’s world.

This was my life now, tied to the man who had asked me to be his wife.

Walking toward the jet, I kept my head high, holding my Chanel with one hand and brushing my hair back with the other.

As soon as I stepped inside, the cool air wrapped around me, and an attendant smiled, offering me a glass of champagne.

I accepted it, watching the bubbles rising to the surface like they were celebrating me.

I sank into one of the leather seats, the glass chilled against my palm and leaned toward the window.

The runway stretched out in front of me, and all I could do was let my thoughts circle back to my mama.

For once, I wanted her to look at me and not see something that reminded her of pain.

I wanted her to look at me and see a woman standing on her own, who was about to step into a marriage she could be proud of.

As the bubbles touched my lips, I thought about how different this next chapter could be if my mama chose to support me instead of questioning me.

Planning a wedding wasn’t just about dresses or flowers or venues.

For me, it was about knowing that the people who raised me were behind me, even if we hadn’t always seen eye to eye.

I stared out the window longer than I meant to, watching the sun glare off the wings of the jet, and whispered a thought I hadn’t said out loud in years.

I hoped she would be there for me this time.

I hoped she could set aside whatever had been between us and just be my mother, because I needed her more than anything right now.