Page 49 of Heavy Is The Crown

Zahir took a slow sip of his drink, then chuckled.

“Damn.” He shook his head. “Krys went from a man building businesses to a man fixing sinks?”

The room fell silent. Krys’ stomach clenched. She could feel the heat in her chest, feel the wave of irritation creeping up her spine.

Before she could even open her mouth, Kenyatta was already on it.

Kenyatta leaned back slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to show he wasn’t pressed, just entertained. His voice stayed easy, smooth, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

“Nah, for real. You good? ‘Cause sitting here wheresheat, withherpeople, mad aboutherlife choices? That’s wild, bruh.” He let out a slow chuckle, shaking his head. “You acting like a man that lost something he thought was his; but let’s be real, you probably ain’t built to keep it. Is that what it is?”

A few heads turned. Someone in the back stifled a laugh.

Zahir’s smirk faltered, just slightly; but Kenyatta caught it and that’s when he knew he had him.

Krys’ fingers lightly brushed against Kenyatta’s forearm, a silent signal.

He looked at her. She shook her head once:Not tonight. Kenyatta let the moment stretch before he sat back, letting it go.

But Zahir wasn’t done. He forced another smirk, but it was tight. “Nah, just surprised, that’s all. Thought Krys would be with somebody a little more…on her level.”

Tyra’s brow furrowed. “Not you nigga.”

Sydnee tapped Tyra and motioned for her to hush with a slight giggle.

Krys let Kenyatta handle himself, watching him work, seeing how he wasn’t pressed, wasn’t rattled. He could sit in this energy all night.

But Zahir wanted to keep poking. He was a prick; one of those arrogant, educated Black men who measured a man’s worth by his tax bracket and social circles. The kind who looked down on blue-collared workers, convinced that status and access to the affluent made him superior.

“I mean, Krys got businesses, investments. She’s building something real. She got vision. That’s why she used to be with a man that was doing the same.”

Krys let out a short laugh. Not the deep, amused kind but the disrespectful kind. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on the table, her voice smooth and sharp at the same time. “Last time I checked, Z,youwasn’t building shit.”

The smirk on Zahir’s face froze.

Krys tilted her head. “Your uncles are building. They put their names on those law firm doors, not you. You just show up and play fetch for them.”

A few gasps. Jared damn near knocked his drink over.

Zahir’s face darkened. He opened his mouth to fire back, but Krys cut him off before he could even gather himself.

“So, if we being real? You ain’t no better than Kenyatta. Difference is he ain’t gotta ride his family’s coattails to get where he going. Furthermore, keep my man’s name out’cho mouth from this moment moving forward.”

Silence.

Zahir’s jaw clenched so tight Krys thought his teeth might crack. He had nothing to fire back with, because she wasn’t lying. He was just a do-boy at his family’s firm. Taking orders. Filing motions. Carrying other men’s legacies. Krys had built her own. She owned her name.

Zahir stared at her, lips pressed tight, but Krys had already checked out of the conversation.

Kenyatta sat there, watching, taking it all in, amused as hell.

Krys’ hand brushed his forearm again, but this time, it wasn’t a warning; it was acknowledgment.

She handled that.

Kenyatta chuckled low, shaking his head as he reached for his drink. “Damn.” He took a sip. “That was harsh.”

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