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ALLURE

After trying for hours, Jasir was finally asleep. It took a warm bath, a lullaby I half remembered from my childhood, and two readings of Brown Bear, Brown Bear , but he was out. Curled up in the guest room bed like peace had finally found a place to rest in his body.

I stood over him for a while, watching his chest rise and fall. Something about toddlers always looked like grace. Even after all they’d been through. He still kicked in his sleep like he was running toward something better.

Maybe now… he was.

The sound of the sewing machine filled the room, rhythmic and steady, even though my thoughts weren’t.

I’d spent the afternoon stitching together new pieces for a collection I wasn’t sure anyone would ever see.

Loose silhouettes, bold colors, softer fabric.

I’d traded leather for linen, cutouts for comfort.

I wanted women to feel free in my designs.

To feel the opposite of how I had for ten years.

Caged. Owned. Forgotten.

Not only was I forgotten, but simply sold like I was nothing. And thankfully the man that sold me was dead. But my complicit mother was still alive and wanted to talk to me.

She’d been calling nonstop, demanding answers.

Accusing me of hiding the truth about Carmelo’s death.

I hadn’t returned her messages. I wasn’t sure I owed her that.

But something in me needed to see her face one more time.

To look her in the eye and ask why. Why she let it happen.

Why she let him sell me like some family heirloom they didn’t value anymore.

I wiped my hands on my apron and stepped away from the machine, the weight of the evening tightening around my chest.

The front door clicked open. Riot was finally home.

He moved through the brownstone like thunder, quiet but charged. I met him at the threshold, and the moment his eyes landed on me, I felt my spine soften.

“You good?” he asked, brushing a kiss against my temple.

“I’m better now,” I murmured, resting my forehead against his chest.

He held me a second longer than usual, like he knew the storm I was trying to outrun. Maybe he did. Riot had always seen through me. Past the calm. Past the poise. Straight into the pieces.

I stepped back. “Did you talk to the lawyer again?”

He nodded. “Yeah. They’re gonna give me all of Cannon’s information about how to visit him and make sure that we get this money Mama left to him.

I still can’t wrap my head around it. Another fuckin’ brother,” he said as he brushed his hand down my belly.

I was no where near showing yet but he always showed my belly attention.

I was still shocked that he had another brother out there. That his mother actually cheated on that psychopath Silas and gotten pregnant. It’s incredible that Silas didn’t kill her. Guess that’s one murder he didn’t think he could get away with.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear from you. I mean, $10 million dollars coming your way when you get out of prison in a few months is a such a blessing,” I said.

“Yeah. I wonder if he’d want anything to do with us.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Yeah… the secrets our mothers…” he said as he shook his head.

“Speaking of which. I’m going to see her tonight,” I replied.

His brow lifted. “Your mother?”

“She’s been calling. Asking about Carmelo. She wants to know what happened. What I did.”

He reached for my hand. “You sure you’re ready?”

“I’m never ready,” I said softly. “But I need to end it. Or it’s going to keep bleeding into everything I’m trying to build.”

He nodded slowly. “You want me to go with you?”

“No,” I responded. “I’ll deal with this on my own.”

I looked at him, the man who had taken in a child that wasn’t his, who carried the weight of a legacy drenched in blood, and still found room in his heart for softness. For me.

“I want to ask her why she let him do it,” I said, voice low and bitter. “Why she didn’t stop him from selling me like I was nothing. And then maybe I’ll remind her that she should be thanking me. Because I spared her life, Riot. I didn’t spare Carmelo’s.”

He pulled me in and held me tight.

“You’re not the same girl they tried to break,” he murmured. “You’re the woman who survived it.”

And God help her if she forgot that.

By the time the Uber dropped me off at my aunt’s apartment, my nerves were still wound pretty tightly. Every time I thought about my mother, I thought about the fact that she didn’t do shit when my father sold me. And my brother was the middle man.

I climbed the narrow stairs, heart pounding with each step. My mother was still staying there for, trying to convince me to leave with her. There was no way in hell I’d do that.

She opened the door before I even knocked. Like she’d been standing behind it, waiting. Her face looked older than I remembered—drawn, hollow, brittle like glass.

“Allure,” she breathed, eyes sweeping over me like I was both ghost and threat. “Where is your brother?”

I didn’t step inside. I stood in the doorway like a boundary she wasn’t welcome to cross.

“I killed him,” I said plainly.

Her hand shot up to her mouth, a gasp choking out of her throat. “No. No, baby… you didn’t?—”

“He helped Daddy sell me,” I continued, eyes locked on hers.

Her knees buckled, and she stumbled back against the wall like the truth hit her physically. “I’m so sorry Allure…”

“You should be,” I snapped.

Tears spilled from her eyes, but I didn’t move. I’ve already learned to not to mistake her crying for remorse.

“You were my mother,” I said, voice shaking now. “You were supposed to protect me. But you stood by and let him do it. You let him sell me like I was something to get rid of.”

“I didn’t know it would be for so loooong…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me again,” I hissed. “At any time you could’ve called the police on Boaz and gotten me freed. You could’ve done it anonymously. That’s what I did to free the other girls he kept. But you were too scared. Too weak. Too selfish.”

She collapsed into a chair, sobbing openly now. “I didn’t mean for any of this?—”

“I spared you,” I said. “And that’s the last kindness you’ll ever get from me.”

Her eyes widened in fear. “Please don’t shut me out?—”

“I have a family now. A man who loves me. A child sleeping soundly because he finally feels safe. And another on the way. I won’t let your guilt poison that.”

She reached for me, and I stepped back.

“Respect my boundaries,” I said, voice cold steel. “Don’t call. Don’t write. Don’t ask anyone about me. I don’t want anything from you. Not love. Not answers. Nothing.”

“Allure…”

“Goodbye.”

I turned and walked out, down those chipped stairs that had once felt like a prison. Now, every step felt like freedom.

By the time I made it back to Harlem, I was exhausted. Riot was sitting on the stoop, waiting for me. He looked up, and I nodded.

It was done.

The past was buried. And in its place, something real—something ours—was finally blooming.