Page 76 of Heavy Is The Crown

Kenyatta huffed, shaking his head. “Here you go.”

Musa let out a slow, uninterested yawn, completely unbothered, before turning and padding toward his usual spot near the sunken living room. His presence was always known, but never loud.

Kenyatta took in the house again, this time really looking.

Floor-to-ceiling windows. Open-concept layout, pristine furniture in a soft, expensive color palette. Marble floors, high-end art, an open floor plan that flowed seamlessly into a state-of-the-art kitchen, chandeliers that probably cost more than a car. Everything about the place screamed money, but not in a loud way; controlled wealth. The kind that didn’t need to flex.

“This where you live?” Kaliyah asked, her eyes bouncing between the high ceilings and elegant decor.

Krys nodded, leading them toward the spacious living room. “Yep.”

Kaliyah blinked. “By yourself?”

Krys gave a perky response. “Yep.”

Kenyatta sat on the arm of the couch, shaking his head. “Ain’t no way you need this much house for just you.”

Krys shrugged. “I like space.”

Kenyatta scoffed. “You could fit a whole village in here.”

Krys rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the shopping bags on the coffee table. “I got something for y’all.”

Kaliyah’s eyes widened as Krys pulled out a soft white designer dress, shoes to match, and a little gold bracelet.

“This mine?” Kaliyah asked hesitantly.

Krys nodded, handing it to her. “Yep. You gotta match your daddy.”

Kaliyah’s tiny fingers ran over the fabric, her excitement barely contained. She mumbled a shy, “Thank you.”

Krys smiled. “You’re welcome, baby.”

Kenyatta watched the entire interaction, something stirring in his chest.

Then Krys pulled out another bag and tossed it at him.

Kenyatta caught it, eyebrows raising when he peeked inside. Expensive. Classy but bold. Designer, but not too much.

He whistled lowly. “Damn. I ain’t wore shit like this in a minute.”

Krys smiled. “Well, tonight, you’re gonna remember what it feels like.”

Kenyatta pulled the outfit out, the feel of it triggering something inside him. It reminded him of who he used to be before prison, before his reality got flipped. He ran his fingers over the fabric, then looked at Krys.

“Damn,” he muttered. “You really went all out.”

Krys lifted a brow. “You think I’m about to show up with a man wearing basic shit?”

Kenyatta chuckled. “Nah, I see you got an image to protect.”

She smirked, grabbing her wine glass. “Exactly.”

Kaliyah ran her fingers over her dress again, then looked up. “Can I go change?”

Krys nodded. “Of course, baby. The guest room’s upstairs, second door on the left.”

Kaliyah took off running, excited.

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