Jamal Anderson , is a retired hustler from drug trafficking . His only motive was to satisfy and please his first love , Ronnie but things starts to get tough when temptation comes between them along with secrets that will tear him apart . Karma bites him hard and doesn't know what route to go . Liberty Hamilton grew up with a sense of how life would be like I'm the streets . Without knowing her mother , her father raised her while educating her about drugs . When she got older , her feign for those drugs intensified causing her to do whatever she needed to get what she wanted . Her love for drugs is only neutral but her love for money is stronger than ever . Ronnie, learns the ropes the hard way after losing her family to tragic events and going through a traumatic life. The only person she trust and allows to protect her is her one and only love Jamal, but her insecurities and self struggles seems to run him away. All she wants is a real family and no heart aching pain.

He needs a place to live, she needs a baby daddy. Pietro Santangelo and Marguerite White are students at prestigious Columbia University in New York City. She is a fun-loving, free spirit who finds herself in a bit of a familial bind, he is an exchange student with a chronic case of poverty. They concoct a plan that they think will work, not realizing how much changes with two simple words... Pete merely looked at her and opened a box of books. He took some out and began placing them on the shelves, bending and stretching at his task. He had a nice back, broad shoulders and muscles that could be seen clearly under his light blue T-shirt. Daisy watched for a minute, fascinated. "Like what you see?" he asked without turning around. She jumped at the sound of his voice. "Well, you're the only thing in the room that's moving, you know?" she said by way of explanation. He turned around to look at her, books in either hand, a small grin on his face. "Of course, what was I thinking?" he asked rhetorically. "And look. We're both adults here, hm?" He looked carefully at her. "The couch we just brought up here cost fifty dollars at the second-hand store, and has to be at least thirty years old. I don't want to sleep on it, and I don't think you're going to want to sleep on it, either." She shook her head. "So the bed is nice and big," he continued. "I think we can manage, don't you? We can share the bed." He watched her for her reaction. "I give you my word this is not going to be a problem for me. At all. Is this going to be a problem for you?" She looked at him. "Really? At all?" She recovered from the unintentional meaning of his words quickly. "No, it won't be a problem for me, either," she said firmly. "We can share the bed." Content warning: This story contains mature sexual content, and themes of premarital sex and sexual assault.