After Eight years, Ghenesis Santiago leaves for Atlanta, Ga to try having a relationship with her father and his new family. While having to maintain her senior year in highschool and working with her brother and his Crew under her father's orders...
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MONDAY
Author POV
Scorpio was up before the sun, moving through the apartment like she owned the day. She moved with quiet power, hair slicked back in a braided bun, nails done, lashes full—Ghenesis wasn’t at the wheel no more. Not today.
She was lacing up Artemis’ little sneakers, humming low as the toddler kicked her feet playfully. “There we go, baby girl,” she said, securing the last Velcro strap. Artemis blinked at her, eyes squinting like she knew something wasn’t right. That wasn’t her Ghen, not really. Scorpio’s energy hit different.
But Scorpio just smiled and picked her up smooth. Artemis laid her head on her chest, fingers curling in Scorpio’s hair.
“Auntie Ghen just restin’ for now. You got me today. That cool, mamas?” she whispered. Artemis gave a sleepy smile, content as ever.
“You too perfect,” Scorpio whispered, bouncing her gently as she walked into the living room.
Zeus was out on the balcony, leaned against the rail, blunt burning slow between his fingers. His face was unreadable—stone cold like always. Scorpio looked him up and down: black tee, black-and-gold varsity jacket, crisp jeans, black beanie low over his curls, Jordans laced tight. Nothing flashy—but the way he wore it? That man was disrespectfully fine.
“He too damn fine to be lookin’ that mean,” she thought, her thighs tensing on instinct.
Zeus took a final drag, flicked the roach into the wind, and walked past her like he ain’t even see her. Grabbed his keys off the table, didn’t say shit. She followed, still holding Artemis.
Once outside, he took the baby gently from her arms and strapped her into the car seat with the kind of ease that said this wasn’t new to him. Scorpio slid into the passenger seat, legs crossed, lips glossed, playing cool.
“We got a run tonight,” Zeus finally said, eyes on the road. “Banquet shit. Charles set it up with some buyers.”
“Artemis stayin’ overnight?” she asked, chill.
“Yeah. Just gotta hit that ProCare app, pay extra.”
They pulled up to the daycare ten minutes later. One of the teachers stepped out, smiled, and scooped Artemis out the back. The baby waved as they pulled off, eyes half-closed already.
School wasn’t far. Once they parked, Scorpio dipped toward her locker, switching bags like muscle memory.
