A CROWN OF RUST AND LIES

A CROWN OF RUST AND LIES CHAPT 3

Chapter 3

Dre didn't just move her into his Chesapeake condo; he curated her. He filled the sprawling walk-in closets with clothes she'd only seen in magazines—silk blouses, tailored coats, shoes with red soles. He filled the jewelry box with diamonds that felt like beautiful, heavy, brilliant shackles. The gilded cage was breathtaking, the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows a panorama of the city lights she had once been trapped inside. Now, she just floated above them, and she felt her fire being banked, tamed into a decorative flame for his mantle.

Her simmering frustration, the itch of her true self under the cashmere, came to a head over Smoke, Dre's right-hand man. Smoke was a snake with a human face, his obsequious courtesy a thin, slimy veil for his contempt. He looked at her like she was a passing indulgence, a temporary pet.

During a strategy meeting she wasn't meant to be a part of—she had brought them drinks—she overheard a logistical flaw in their new distribution plan. Unable to help herself, she spoke up. "If you move the drop to the Berkley yard, you cut exposure by half. The container schedules there are a mess. No one's watching."

It was a brilliant, simple solution. The room went silent. Dre looked at her, a spark of pride in his eyes. But he extinguished it, offering an indulgent smile instead. His words were a velvet-gloved slap that echoed in the silent room. "See, Smoke? Told you she was smart. Baby, let the men handle this."

It was a public dismissal, a pat on the head, a reminder of her role: queen, but not ruler. Ornament, but not instrument. The shame burned hotter than anger.

She called Maya that night, the hum of the city a distant, lonely sound from her glass-walled balcony. "I feel like a decoration, May. A high-end one, but still. He shut me down in front of everyone."

There was a pause on the line. Kyla expected sympathy, a "he's a dog" or "you're too good for him." What she got was the crisp, cool voice of Maya the architect.

"Then what are you going to do about it?" Maya asked.

"What can I do? It's his world."

"Wrong," Maya snapped. "A queen who doesn't understand the kingdom is just a prisoner with a better crown. So stop crying about it and learn it, Ky. You're a fixer. So fix this. You're smart. You see things. Find the cracks. Find his weaknesses. Find his enemies."

"Maya, that sounds..."

"Like what?" Maya's voice was sharp. "A man like Dre doesn't respect a decoration. He told you he wanted a queen, right? He respects power. Make yourself indispensable. Not just to his heart, but to his empire. You've got the proximity he gives no one else. Use it. Or get used to being a pretty little pet in a cage."

Kyla hung up, not comforted, but activated. She mistook Maya's cold analysis for tough love. She didn't realize she had just been given her first set of instructions.

She took the advice to heart. She started listening, truly listening. She observed, she cross-referenced, she pieced together the architecture of Dre's empire. She saw the cracks. And the biggest, most obvious crack was Smoke.