“Shayla’s new mind game begins — and this time, even Iman is her weapon.🔥” Read More
The evening sky over Atlanta burned gold as the sun dipped behind the skyline. Shayla stood on the balcony of her new condo, phone in her hand, hair catching the breeze.
Down below, traffic hummed, the city alive — but inside her, something was shifting.
She scrolled through Iman’s last message again.
“You think peace comes from money, Shay? Try sleeping next to someone who actually understands you.”
Her fingers froze over the screen. Peace? She scoffed, tossing her phone on the table.
“Please,” she muttered, “I don’t need peace, I need results.”
But that voice — Iman’s calm, steady voice — kept replaying in her mind.
INT. ANTHONY & AMBER’S HOUSE – SAME NIGHT
Amber paced the living room, holding a wine glass, her nails tapping the glass edge. Anthony sat on the couch, silent, scrolling through his phone.
Amber: “She’s still out there, Ant. Living her best life, flaunting her new man like she’s untouchable.”
Anthony (without looking up): “She’s not untouchable, Amber. She’s just reckless.”
Amber (snapping): “Reckless? She’s smart. Look around — you still paying her rent, remember?”
Anthony’s jaw clenched. The reminder stung.
He looked up slowly, his voice sharp.
Anthony: “You act like I wanted this. She’s my son’s mother. I’m doing what’s right.”
Amber laughed — cold, bitter.
Amber: “Oh, right. Doing what’s right while she’s doing whoever she wants.”
Anthony (standing up): “Watch your mouth, Amber.”
Amber: “Or what? You’ll defend her again?”
The tension thickened. Anthony turned away, but his silence said enough.
INT. SHAYLA’S LIVING ROOM – NEXT MORNING
Shayla was sipping coffee, wearing a silk robe, when her phone buzzed — a message from Iman.
“I’m outside.”
She smirked, fixing her hair before opening the door.
Iman stood there, tall and calm, holding a brown envelope.
Shayla: “What’s this? A love letter?”
Iman (grinning slightly): “A year’s rent upfront. Just like I promised.”
Shayla (mock surprise): “Oh, so we’re paying for peace now?”
Iman: “No. I’m paying for stability. You said if something happens between us, you don’t wanna worry about rent. So here it is.”
She stared at him — that calm tone, those steady eyes. It disarmed her.
Shayla: “You talk like you know the future.”
Iman: “I just know people, Shayla. And you... you run from anything that feels real.”
Shayla (smirking): “Maybe I just like control.”
Iman: “Control or fear — sometimes they look the same.”
His words hit harder than she expected. She looked away.
Shayla: “You done psychoanalyzing me for the day?”
Iman (softly): “Just don’t mistake chaos for strength. They’re not the same.”
He left the envelope on the counter and walked out.
Shayla exhaled deeply — the silence after his departure felt louder than any argument.
INT. ANTHONY & AMBER’S HOUSE – LATER THAT DAY
Amber was on FaceTime with her friend, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Amber: “Girl, if I see Shayla one more time acting like she’s Beyoncé, I swear…”
Then suddenly, she froze — Shayla’s name popped up on her phone screen.
Amber (to herself): “What does this witch want now?”
She answered, tone dripping with sarcasm.
Amber: “Well, look who it is. Need another rent payment reminder?”
Shayla (coolly): “Relax, Amber. I’m just checking if Anthony picked up our son’s things from school.”
Amber: “Oh, so now you’re playing co-parent of the year?”
Shayla: “At least I’m playing something. You just watching from the sidelines.”
Amber’s eyes narrowed.
Amber: “You’re real bold for someone who used to cry over him.”
Shayla (smirking): “Boldness comes with evolution, sweetheart.”
Amber clenched her jaw.
Amber: “You think you’re winning because of that NBA boy toy of yours?”
Shayla: “Winning? I already did. You’re still talking about me.”
Before Amber could respond, Shayla ended the call — click.
Amber threw her phone on the couch, fuming.
Anthony walked in just in time to see her rage.
Anthony: “Now what?”
Amber: “Your baby mama just called to remind me she’s still living rent-free — both in your wallet and my head!”
Anthony (frowning): “You didn’t have to answer.”
Amber (snapping): “And you didn’t have to keep paying her bills!”
He turned away again, but Amber wasn’t done.
Amber: “You know what? Let your stepmother help you, right?”
She said it with a bitter laugh, thinking she’d scored a point.
But then— the doorbell rang.
And there stood Shayla, in a white blazer, sunglasses on, smirk locked in place.
Shayla: “I heard my name. Hope I’m not interrupting family therapy.”
Amber blinked, caught off guard.
Amber: “Oh, you bold bold, huh?”
Shayla (walking in): “Always. That’s why I win.”
Anthony tried to step between them.
Anthony: “Alright, y’all chill—”
Shayla (cutting in): “No, let her talk. She said something about ‘stepmother helping’? Sweetheart, I don’t need help — I am the help.”
Amber’s eyes widened; her pride cracked just a little.
Shayla gave a slow, knowing smile — the kind that says checkmate.
She turned, adjusted her bag, and walked toward the door.
Shayla: “You keep the drama. I’ll keep the victory.”
And with that, she left — heels clicking, perfume lingering, silence swallowing the room behind her.
Anthony just stood there, rubbing his forehead.
Anthony: “I don’t even know what just happened.”
Amber glared at the door, muttering,
Amber: “What happened is — she flipped the whole damn game.”
🖤 To Be Continued...
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