🚨 Sneak-Peek 🚨 "Princess & the Plug": Read the Prologue

Prologue

Elegant and poised as a queen sitting on her throne, Princess’s mother watched her with a critical eye as they sat in the center of their lavish living room.

Tatiana, dressed in head-to-toe designer fashion, straight out of the pages of Vogue, embodied the image of a kingpin’s wife. Princess, on the other hand, exuded a tomboyish confidence that clashed sharply with her mother’s traditional ideals of femininity. Per her norm, her lanky legs were adorned with cut-off jeans, and her worn-out t-shirt and muddy sneakers told a story of outdoor adventures rather than glamorous elegance.

It was a constant source of frustration for Tatiana. Her husband, Black Cortez, was the head of the Steel Kingz in Brooklyn—a man of power and respect, whose name reached far beyond their small neighborhood. Born to Haitian immigrants, Anthony DuPont, known to the world as Black Cortez, was seen as a dangerous figure by those in positions of power.

He harbored revolutionary views like Malcolm X, yet possessed the charisma and personality of Martin Luther King, Jr. Many saw him as a Black Messiah—one of the chosen ones to set things right. Tatiana, with her Jackie O style and Michelle Obama-like charm, played her role as his queen flawlessly. She exuded an air of elegance and strength, captivating those around her, and perfectly complimenting her husband.

And then there was Princess. She was her father’s pride and joy, although her stubborn, headstrong nature always put her at odds with her mother. Princess’s rebellious spirit defied expectations and norms at every turn. She possessed an unwavering mind of her own, a quality admired by both of her parents, but one that consistently clashed with her mother’s vision of the kind of woman that she wanted her daughter to grow to be.

“Mama, I’m telling you, the game was intense,” Princess exclaimed, shining with enthusiasm as she recounted her recent basketball triumph. “I was the only girl on the court, and I dominated that shit. Not a single boy could cross me up, not even Ty-Ty!”

With a gleam in her eye, Princess vividly replayed the moment she faked right, then swiftly went left, leaving poor Ty-Ty sprawled on the floor, much to the amusement of everyone present. She relished in the attention, especially when it defied everyone’s preconceived notions of her being a pampered daughter of Black Cortez.

Sighing, her mother responded with disapproval, her voice conveying her concern.

“Princess, why do you insist on acting like such a tomboy? Boys don’t want girls who remind them of their buddies. If they wanted that, they’d just date one of their friends.”

Princess wrinkled her nose but maintained her composure, aware that arguing would be futile. “Yes, mama,” she replied politely, masking the spark of defiance that flickered in her eyes.

Her mother continued, frustration filling her tone. “Women are meant to be feminine and beautiful—a trophy in their husband’s eyes. You need to understand the importance of presenting yourself in a way that captures a man’s attention.”

Princess’s mind wandered to the basketball court, and she basked in the exhilarating freedom she experienced while playing. The idea of confining herself to society’s expectations seemed suffocating. Yet, she understood the love and concern behind her mother’s words.

“Yes, mama,” she gave in, her voice tinted with resignation. It was a response she had given countless times before—an agreement to placate her mother’s traditional ideals.

“That shit might work for them empty-headed girls out there. But not Princess because she ain’t no trophy,” her father’s voice interjected, his words carrying a street-smart edge. Princess turned around, a smile breaking across her face as she laid eyes on him.

“She’s more than a trophy. That’s the difference,” he declared with conviction, his voice laced with urban flair. “A trophy is somethin’ they give to fools who think they got what it takes to win. It’s just a reminder of their past glory. An old trinket collectin’ dust on a shelf. Princess, she worth way more than that. My baby girl is priceless.”

Tatiana smiled, her eyes shining as she locked gazes with her husband. “Seems like you got big plans for our girl,” she said with warmth in her tone. “But I’m her mother and she ain’t gonna be runnin’ these streets on my watch.”

Black’s voice resonated with the determination infused in him by the streets that raised him. “By the time she ready to step up, the streets won’t even be an option. She gon’ be runnin’ them boardrooms, writin’ laws, and makin’ a real difference. We raisin’ Princess to be a game-changer.”

Their visions now aligned, Princess’s parents exchanged understanding smiles. Tatiana wanted her daughter to possess beauty and grace, while Black wanted Princess to be street-smart and fearless. But their common goal was crystal clear—they wanted her to wield power. Yet above all, they wanted her to be safe.

Princess’s life was wrapped in luxury and wealth, which shielded her from the harsh realities beyond the walls of their lavish mansion. Yet, as the daughter of a man who reigned over a treacherous empire, danger always lurked around every corner, ready to strike. And sometimes, moments arose that served as stark reminders.

Unfortunately, for everyone under Black Cortez’s roof, this was one of those moments.

The sound of shattering glass shattered Princess’s reverie, jolting her into high alert. Fear gripped her heart as she watched her parents’ faces shift into horrified expressions. Her gaze followed their terrified stares, widening in disbelief as a masked figure emerged from the darkness, a glimmering gun gripped tightly in his hand. Time seemed to crawl as her parents’ eyes widened, their voices choked with disbelief.

“No!” Black bellowed, lunging at the intruder with a desperate determination.

The crack of a gunshot ripped through the air, followed by a scream that pierced Princess’s very soul. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the acrid scent of fear, staining the walls of the home she once thought was impenetrable.

Tatiana’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor, her light extinguished in an instant. Black, his eyes still blazing with defiance, collapsed beside her, his life force seeping onto the plush carpet.

As the masked figure neared Princess, she noticed a scar on their arm, somewhat covered by a tattoo, a dark and intricate design that seemed to snake and twist its way across their skin. It looked like a coiled serpent, its scales detailed with such precision that it appeared almost lifelike. The snake’s eyes were piercing, its gaze seemed to follow Princess wherever she looked.

Her heart raced, her breaths shallow and uneven. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but the weight of her grief and shock held her captive. The intruder seemed to hesitate for a moment, their eyes locking with hers. In that fleeting moment, a spark of recognition flashed in the depths of his dark gaze, as if he knew her.

Then, without a word, the intruder turned and disappeared into the night, leaving her alone with the heartbreak and devastation that now defined her world.

Princess sank to the floor, devastated. In the blink of an eye, her world shattered, leaving her stranded amidst the wreckage of shattered dreams and broken promises.

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