Page 164 of Invisible Bars

Giselle stared at me like I’d grown horns—like she didn’t recognize the son she gave birth to. That was because I had outgrown that version of myself; it shed the moment she tried tobelittle Chi. Besides, that wasn’t about some business decision or personal dig… it was about Naji. And the version of me that showed up whenshewas disrespected? That man didn’t come to talk; he came to remind folks exactly who the hell he was.

I gave Giselle some lasting words.

“This version of Imanio doesn’t need your applause, permission, or you. That being said, whatever else you think about Naji, keep it to yourself. We’re leaving. I will not sit at any table—blood or not—where my wife is insulted. I didn’t marry her to fit your narrative or anybody else’s. I married her because she’s mine. And if you can’t handle that...” I looked her dead in the face. “Then don’t inviteusover here again.”

“Well,” Dessign spoke, flipping the toggle on her custom chair, the softwhirfilling the room as it lit up. “That’s my cue to roll on out.”

She pressed the button, and the chair slid into reverse with the smoothness of a getaway car.

“I’ll walk you to your car, sweetie,” our father offered.

“If anybody embarrassed themselves tonight, it was you,” I told Giselle once they were out of earshot. “You invited guests to a dinner that wasn’t yours to narrate and got mad when the plot twisted. You talk about images but forgot your own reflection has been cracked for years.”

With those words, I walked out the same way I went in—unbothered, unapologetic, and holding everything that mattered right beside me. By the time the front door shut behind us, the silence I left in that house was louder than anything I could’ve said.

And Giselle?

She probably was still standing there looking dumbfounded, finally realizing that she no longer had control over the man I had become.

Chapter Twenty-Five

NAJI

The night air outside Giselle’s estate was warm, calm, and laced with tension as the four of us—me, Imanio, Dessign, and their father—stood near Imanio’s Maybach. The crickets were chirping like they were paid to narrate the awkward silence that followed Giselle’s meltdown.

My dress was still sticking slightly to my back from the heat of the dining room, or maybe it was just the nerves—I wasn’t sure.

I couldn’t get over how Imanio stood up for me. The way he held his ground against his mom’s criticisms and embraced his feelings for me was something I had never experienced before. Every time "my wife," rolled off his tongue, it was filled with sincerity, as if the words were a cherished secret meant only for me.

Imanio wasn’t perfect—he had his flaws, and he was well aware of them—but his unwavering loyalty and the way he showed up when it mattered most meant more to me than I could ever put into words.

His father let out a breath—slow and heavy—his eyes drifting to the stars; not searching for answers but probably trying to remember what peace felt like.

“After this circus tonight? I’m really done performing,” he announced.

Dessign blinked, shifting in her chair with one perfectly arched brow.

“What are you talking about? Done performing like retiring? Or like joining a nunnery? ‘Cause I already got Mama pegged as Mother Superior of Drama.”

That made me chuckle softly, despite the emotional bomb we’d all just escaped.

Their father let out a deep, dry laugh.

“No. I’m divorcing your mother.”

Dessign’s jaw dropped.

"Wait, for real? Like… court papers and freedom type divorce?”

He nodded. “Yeah, baby.”

“Well damn. What finally pushed you? The yelling? The weird obsession with pearls? Or the fact that she ironed the money before putting it in birthday cards?"

Their father chuckled. “She’s exhausting, baby. You know that.” He tilted his grin toward me. “And the way she acted tonight? Unforgivable.”

Imanio put his hand on Dessign’s shoulder gently.

"I’ll fill you in later."