Page 52 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
“Well, there are a hundred more just like it with just about as many views. Aside from that, some news outlets are running it as a play on morality as if he’s some born-again convict. Personally, I think it’s disgusting.”
“That’s all?”
“There’s some chatter online from a few advocacy groups who’ve pledged to help him fight for his paternal rights.”
My jaw ticked.Fuck this.It wasn’t just about controlling the story before it controlled us—it was about protecting Simora and Mason and making sure that mothafucka knew he didn’t deserve the privilege to call Mason his son.
“Did Simora and Mason make it home okay?”
“Yes. Richards checked in with me after drop-off,” she confirmed.
I nodded. “Good. I want you to pull every string,” I declared flatly. “Every fuckin’ family favor you’ve got. I don’t give a fuck who we go through. I’ll go toe-to-toe with the warden, the DOJ, or the governor, whoever. I want to be inside and meet with Jadarius privately. No interruptions.”
Rita nodded, already tapping away at her tablet, taking notes. “And what happens once you’re with him?”
I sauntered over to the corner bar cart, poured two fingers of cognac in my glass, and stared out at the view of Manhattan.
“I’ve never been behind bars, and I don’t intend to break that trend tonight. But I do plan to remind that mothafucka what happens when you play with the food on my plate.”
It took longer than I anticipated for the arrangements to be made for my transportation and entrance into the facility on Rikers Island, but it got handled. I strode past security with ease, each calculated step bouncing off the cement walls. I didn’t have to worry about being caught on camera. There had been old prison footage playing over the live video feed from the moment I walked in. This was far from standard operating procedure. It was power—the kind that moved mountains without lifting a finger.
I stepped inside the dimly lit visitation room where Jadarius was waiting. There were no guards around to monitor or interrupt our conversation, just a single metal chair and table where he sat, cuffed. For a heartbeat in time, neither of usuttered a word. The tension in the room was thicker than honey, and for a minute, it felt like the old walls were closing in.
Jadarius’s brows were furrowed, and his brooding gaze was fixed on me. It had been years since we’d seen each other in person, but not much of Jadarius’s appearance had changed for the better. One look at him and I could tell he was still the same irresponsible, always chasing trouble and always finding it type of nigga he’d always been. He still wore his clothes hanging loosely over his stiff frame and had a level of rage inside of him that seeped from his pores. His once-trained waves had been long neglected and replaced by a mini afro, and his mocha brown skin seemed to be covered in a layer of permanent ash.
Then he leaned forward and flashed a mean grimace my way. “The fuck are you doing here? They told me I was meeting with a reporter.”
“Didn’t think I’d pull up and see about you after all the shit you’ve been stirring up around me?”
Jadarius swung his head while trying to suppress a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
I didn’t blink, just continued to stare him down. “Stop fuckin’ playin’ with me. You know exactly why the fuck I’m here.”
He scoffed. “You turned your fuckin’ back on me when I needed you most,” he accused, letting his resentment fly free. “And now you’re here because what? I made you look bad?”
“We both know I tried to help you. But now, you’ve crossed a line.”
Jadarius scoffed. “Which line would that be? Taking out your father? Or letting my son know I’m here while you and my baby mama act like I never fuckin’ existed?”
I inched closer to the table. “Things would be a whole lot easier if you didn’t,” I replied, liking the sound of the idea.
Jadarius scoffed. “It’s crazy how they call this bitch the Big Apple, and out of all the bitches in the world, you had to go and put a ring on my old work.”
My spine stiffened. “This ain’t about her, so leave her out of this.”
“For what? You didn’t. And now I’m comin’ for it all.”
“I found out the same time you did that you were his father.”
“So, that bitch lied to both of us, huh? How that make you feel lettin’ a bitch play you?”
“We ain’t in the same category, nigga. Never was, never will be. You were an orphan of the streets when I met you. Now you a gossiping ass nigga running your mouth like a news reporter behind a woman who leveled up on your bitch ass. Again, keep her the fuck out of it.”
As mad as I was about Simora having ties to this nigga, I’d never let him disrespect her in my presence.
His expression darkened. “That’s because I want to see my fucking son,” he spat, his deep voice fresh with emotion, demanding the right to something we both knew he didn’t deserve.
I heard what his mouth said, but I knew better. He wasn’t looking to build a genuine relationship with Mason. He was looking for leverage for his next come up, holding onto the fantasy that he’d make it out and become something more than the nothing ass nigga he was born to be.
