Stacks & Secrets

Dior didn't wake up to an alarm clock-she hadn't in years. The scent of fresh roses from her windowsill garden, mixed with the ever-present aroma of Rahmik's cologne lingering in the sheets, was enough to stir her awake. Sunlight spilled through the high windows of the master suite like golden syrup, kissing the marble floors of their five-bedroom Buckhead mansion.

To anyone on the outside, she was living the dream. No nine-to-five. No boss breathing down her neck. No bills she couldn't pay. Just Dior in silk robes, coffee in Versace mugs, and a man who gave her everything-at least that's what it looked like.

Rahmik had been her man since she was eighteen. They'd built together, even if "built" was more like her holding him down while he ran the streets and flipped bricks into empires. His name rang bells in the city, whispered in barbershops and blared through late-night rap lyrics. He was the kind of rich that made other dealers nervous, with a fleet of foreign cars and a phone that never stopped ringing.

But Dior wasn't just his pretty little secret or some hood trophy. She was smart. Real smart. Quiet, calculating. While she played her part as the stay-at-home girlfriend-cooking, cleaning, smiling at his boys when they came through-she was stacking money on the side. Silent accounts, crypto wallets, shoeboxes hidden in false walls. Just in case.

Because love didn't mean blind baby.

Still, Rahmik had a hold on her. That dangerous kind of love that felt like a drug in itself. And even though she hadn't seen the red flags in full color yet, they were there. Lurking. Creeping. Waiting to tear down everything she thought was real.

She didn't know that while she was picking out his favorite silk ties and planning their trip to Tulum, he was tangled in sheets that weren't hers. Wrapped up in lies he wore better than any designer suit.

The game was about to change.

And Dior? She was about to find out just how deep betrayal could cut.