The Plug's Daughter

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The Plug's Daughter
Chapter 18: Shattered Trust
Houston,Texas

Alazhá's POV:

Time Skip......

One Month Later

The smell of hot flat irons and fresh bundles filled Alazhá's room as she sat at her desk, going over the final details for her new hair company. Stacks of sample bundles—raw Indian, Malaysian, and Brazilian—were neatly laid out beside her laptop, the textures shining like silk under the light.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her attention away from her email to her vendor. She sighed, thinking it was probably Zori asking about her hair launch. Instead, the notification was a text from an unknown number.

Curious, she opened it.

What she saw made her heart drop.

The picture was blurry, but clear enough: a girl with long, curly hair draped across Romani's chest, their tongues shamelessly tangled in each other's mouths. They looked far too comfortable, like they belonged together.

Her stomach flipped, and rage bubbled up inside her. Is this what he was on the whole time?

She immediately dialed his number but was met with voicemail. Her fingers flew across her screen.

Alazhá: "So this what we doin' now?? Got me out here lookin' dumb while you laid up with some bitch?? Don't even try to explain 'cause you done!"

Romani didn't reply immediately, and that made her even angrier. She slammed her phone down on the desk and stood up, pacing the room.

"Zori, Mariah, somebody finna hear about this," she muttered, grabbing her phone again to call her besties.

Before she could hit dial, her phone vibrated. Romani had finally texted back.

Romani's POV:

The basement smelled like blood and regret. Romani stood in front of a chair, where a man sat tied up, his face swollen and dripping with sweat.

"Listen," Romani said, his tone low and icy. "I don't like bein' shorted. You know that, right?"

The man whimpered something unintelligible, but Romani wasn't trying to hear excuses. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"You owe me 50 bands. So unless you tryin' to lose another finger, I suggest you tell me where the rest of my bread is."

The man stuttered, "P-please, I'll get it. Just gimme one more week—"

Romani swung his fist, connecting it to the man's jaw with a sickening crack. "You had your week. Time's up."

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his focus. Annoyed, he pulled it out, glancing at the screen. His jaw tightened when he saw multiple texts from Alazhá.

Alazhá: "So this what we doin' now?? Got me out here lookin' dumb while you laid up with some bitch?? Don't even try to explain 'cause you done!"

He frowned, scrolling through her messages. What the hell is she talking about? He quickly typed back.

Romani: "What you talkin' bout? I ain't laid up with nobody."

Seconds later, another text came through, this time with the picture. He stared at it, his face hardening.

"That's mad old," he muttered to himself. "Before I even met her."

"Yo, we done here or what?" came a voice from behind him. It was Khoson, his right-hand man, holding a hammer.

"Handle him," Romani said, nodding toward the tied-up man. "I got somethin' to deal with."

He left the basement and stepped into the cool night air, calling Alazhá as he paced. She didn't answer. Instead, another angry text lit up his phone.

Alazhá: "Boy, don't play dumb! You a weird ass nigga. Thought you was different. Guess not."

Romani sighed, running a hand down his face. He tried calling again. This time, she picked up, her voice dripping with venom.

"What you want?" she snapped.

"You gon' let me explain, or you just gon' keep yellin'?" he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

"What's there to explain? I saw the picture! You out here kissin' on some bitch, and you expect me to believe that's nothin'?"

"That was before we started talkin', Zhá," he said, emphasizing each word. "I ain't even know you back then."

"And I'm supposed to just take your word for it?" she shot back. "You been out here smooth talkin' me, makin' me feel special, and you got skeletons like this poppin' up?"

"It ain't like that—"

"Nah, Romani. I can't trust you now. You had one job, and that was to be real with me," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "And you couldn't even do that."

Romani felt his chest tighten. "You really gon' let one old picture ruin what we got? You know I'm here for you, ma."

"I don't know nothin' anymore," she said coldly. "We done."

The line went dead before he could respond.

Alazhá's POV:

Alazhá tossed her phone onto her bed, her chest heaving. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, she felt empty.

Zori called a few minutes later, and Alazhá let it go to voicemail. She couldn't talk to anyone right now. The image of Romani and that girl kept replaying in her mind.

She turned to her desk, trying to distract herself with work, but the bundles and vendor contracts blurred in front of her eyes.

How could he do this to me?

For the first time in weeks, she felt completely alone.