Fake It Till You Ace It

Adelina saw Iverson emerge from the hallway. She didn't run to him. She didn't check to see if he was bleeding.

She marched toward him, her high heels clicking aggressively against the linoleum floor.

"How much more humiliation are you going to put me through?" Adelina hissed, her voice low but vibrating with pure fury.

The tiny flicker of hope that had lived in Iverson's chest-the hope that maybe, just once, his mother would ask if he was okay-died instantly.

His face hardened into a mask of cold indifference. He didn't say a word. He simply walked past her, pushed open the heavy glass doors of the precinct, and walked out into the cold air.

Adelina gasped in outrage. She quickly thanked the desk sergeant and chased after him.

Hector had the rear door of the Maybach open. Iverson ducked inside and slid all the way to the far side of the leather seat.

Adelina climbed in after him and slammed the door shut. The heavy, soundproof doors sealed them inside a silent, luxurious vault.

The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the Rust Belt behind.

"You fought a street gang for that woman," Adelina snapped, turning her body to face him. Her voice trembled slightly, betraying a crack in her icy armor. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was when the police called me? I thought you were dead! And then I get there, and I find out you risked your life-and my reputation-for a street brawl over a woman who lives in a slum! Are you trying to destroy everything I've built for us?"

Iverson's hands curled into fists on his lap. His knuckles cracked loudly in the quiet car.

"Don't talk about Brenda like that," Iverson said, his voice dangerously low. "She actually acts like a mother. Unlike the women in your country club who just use their kids as trophies."

Adelina flinched like he had slapped her. Her face turned red with anger.

"You are the stepson of the O'Neal family now!" Adelina yelled, losing her composure. "You have rules to follow! You have a standard to maintain!"

Iverson let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "A standard? You mean I have to stay out of Brandon's way so your precious stepson can inherit the empire without any competition?"

"Do not speak about Brandon that way!" Adelina pointed a shaking finger at him. "He is your role model. He just got a recommendation letter for the Ivy League!"

She reached into her designer bag, pulled out a thick manila folder, and threw it hard against Iverson's chest.

"I enrolled you in a premium Ivy League tutoring program," Adelina commanded. "Starting tomorrow, you are forbidden from going back to that ghetto. You are going to pull your grades up from the bottom of the class, or so help me God-"

Iverson didn't even look at the folder. He let it slide off his chest and fall onto the floor mats.

"Save your money," Iverson sneered, leaning his head back against the window. "I'm garbage at school. I'm a loser. No amount of expensive tutors is going to fix my brain. I don't want their fake life."

Adelina stared at him, her chest heaving. "If you keep this up, I will have your stepfather cut off your trust fund."

"Do it," Iverson said, his voice dead. "I don't want his dirty money anyway."

The conversation hit a brick wall. The silence in the car became suffocating.

Iverson's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.

It was a text from his best friend, Jerod.

Man, the rumor mill says the Blackwater block went insane today. Cops locked down the street. I walked by Brenda's shop-it's locked up tight and she's safe inside. You weren't down there, were you? You good?

Iverson read the words, and the tight knot in his stomach finally unraveled. His shoulders dropped. He exhaled a long, quiet breath.

He turned his head and stared out the tinted window. He saw his own reflection in the glass. The lonely, angry teenager.

He hated fighting with his mother. It physically hurt his chest. But he knew the truth. If he showed his real intelligence, if he became a threat to Brandon, Brandon would destroy them both. Playing the worthless, rebellious loser was the only way to keep his mother safe in the O'Neal mansion.

Adelina looked at her son's cold profile. A wave of exhaustion and heartbreak washed over her. She turned away, staring out the opposite window.

The Maybach turned off the main road and approached the massive, wrought-iron gates of the O'Neal estate.

Before the car even came to a complete stop in the driveway, Iverson pushed his door open. He stepped out and walked toward the massive front doors of his luxurious prison, never looking back.