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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I had called him five times that morning.
Not once did the phone ring out. Straight to voicemail — no text, no ping, no callback.
By the sixth time, I gave up and tossed the phone onto the couch.
Something was wrong.
I sat still for a while in Aunty Suzan's living room, legs crossed, baby monitor softly humming beside me. She was at the dining table, cleaning her weapon like it was second nature — rag in one hand, a cold gaze in the other.
"Yuh nuh hear back from him?" she asked without lifting her eyes.
"No," I replied, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. "From him answer mi di first time an tell mi him soon forward, mi cyaah hear nothing more."
Aunty Suzan grunted. "Watch yuh step, Zuri. Sometimes when man quiet... is not peace him have, is plans."
I nodded, though my chest tightened. Sinna wasn't the kind of man to disappear without reason — but Ricardo was. And if he was already trying to sink his claws into his own flesh and blood... then maybe we were too late.
I stood up and grabbed my car keys off the counter.
"Mi a go check somebody," I muttered.
"Who?" Aunty Suzan asked.
"Paige."
******** SWEET LIPS BEAUTY SALON | SPANISH TOWN
The bell above the door gave a soft chime as I stepped into the salon — a brand-new kind of calm. The scent of vanilla diffuser oil and freshly mopped floors greeted me first, followed by the soft hum of a steamer in the back and the buzz of blow dryers at opposite ends.
The space didn't look like it had ever known smoke and ruin.
Paige had rebuilt it with intention — muted pink walls, gold-accented mirrors, soft cream chairs, and a neatly arranged product shelf that stretched nearly wall-to-wall, organized like it came from a showroom. A tiny bouquet of lilies rested near the register. The whole thing looked like restoration, not just of a business... but of herself.
She was at her station, twisting someone's hair. But the second she saw me, she whispered something to her client and walked over, wiping her hands on a dark green apron tied snug around her waist.
"Zuri?" Her voice held surprise... and tiredness.
"Yuh see Sinna?" I asked, eyes scanning hers.
She blinked twice. Then leaned back against the wall with her arms folded, shifting her weight like the question hit a nerve that was already sore.
"Mi nuh see him from wi come back from tour," she said low. "Him drop mi off, and dat was it."
I watched her — the puffiness under her eyes, the slight tremble in her fingers, the way her jaw clenched before she breathed again. Paige had always been soft and bright like sunlight. But today, her light felt dimmed... flickering.
