Zurianne never imagined that saving her mother's life would cost her own freedom. Forced into an arranged marriage with Christopher Whyte the infamous Jamaican Don feared by many,she braces herself for a life of cold stares and ruthless commands. Bu...
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Mi neva did plan fi step back inna Chris world like dis, but some part a mi know seh if me waan clear him name, me haffi dig deep. Deep inna di same place weh people either fear him, love him or waan si him fall.
Now, he was locked up. And I needed answers.
I wasn't going in blind though. I called Sinna.
⸻
We were parked just outside the main strip. Sinna had rolled his windows down halfway, watching a group of kids chase a ball across the street.
"You sure yuh ready fi dis?"
"Mi affi be."
He nodded and turned the key in the ignition.
"Just follow mi lead."
⸻
As we entered the deeper part of the community, everything shifted. The roads narrowed. Stray dogs weaved through cars. A group of men leaned on a zinc fence, smoking and laughing too loud. Some stalls were set up outside a shop—fruit, cigarette cartons, bag juice hanging from the top beam.
The moment they saw me, eyes locked in.
A pretty uptown-looking girl? With Sinna? Instant suspicion.
But Sinna didn't flinch. He stepped out the car, nodded to a few men, and greeted them like old friends.
"Yow Twinz, yuh good?" he called to a slim man sitting on a crate, spliff in hand.
"RajahWhild? Mi bredda! Wah gwaan?"
They hugged, tapped fists. The energy softened.
"Mi deh yah wid one woman. She cool. A Fada Whyte baby mada. She need fi find out some tings."
Heads turned. You could feel the tension thicken. People didn't want to talk. Not here. Not about Fada Whyte.
But one youth—barefoot, wearing a torn shirt and cargo shorts—stepped forward.
"Yuh a come from far fi dis, mi can see it inna yuh face," he said to me.
I nodded once.
"Mi just waan know di truth."
"Fada neva deserve dis. Mi tell yuh dat straight."
He motioned for us to follow him down a narrow lane. Sinna kept close behind me. I could feel him scanning every corner.
⸻
We ended up behind a small corner shop. A few crates were flipped over for seating, and the youth—he said his name was Deji—leaned against a wall.
"Since Fada gone, di place mash up," he said, tone low.
