#daddy stack

Stack leans back in the driver’s seat, arm draped over the steering wheel, jaw tight. He’s not the type to cry. But something stings behind his eyes anyway. He had to sit with the weight of pushing her away so many years ago, and what made him do it. The look in her eyes when he put her out haunted him to this day.

It started with a lie. Not the big kind. Just the kind you tell to buy time. To fix shit before anybody notices. But time ran out.

A deal that should’ve been clean. Easy. His charm was the plan. It always was. It always had. Elijah was the hammer, Elias was the smile. It worked. Until it didn’t. Smoke had always said that luck shit would only get him so far. Stack always quirked up and claimed Lady Luck was his favorite side bitch.

The shipment was short. The product was weak. One man got loud. A threat flew. And for once, Elias didn’t talk.

He shot.

Fast. Unthinking. The echo still rings in his mind.

The man he killed wasn’t the one who set them up. That part came later — far too late.

Elijah had stared at him for a full ten seconds in the aftermath, jaw clenched, blood spattered on his sleeve.

“That ain’t him.” Smoke mumbled.

“He moved like it was.” Stack retorted.

“You sure, or you just didn’t wanna look weak?” Smoke spat.

Stack had no answer. Only heat in his face and blood on his hands.

They contacted Richard Sr for a clean up crew. One thing about Big Rich was he always came through for the twins, even during mishaps like these. He made sure to tell Elias just how big he fucked up by killing the man he did. The guys was a cross town rival whose collaboration was already on thin ice. This would sever their relationship completely. 

The result was for him to lay low in Chicago for a while. Work with the guys out there. Build trust. Gain protection. Let the storm he created in Houston die down. 

The problem with the plan is where would Stacey fit into it. She didn’t. Big Rich made it clear that simply because she was his daughter, she was the biggest liability. Her relationship with Elias only made her a bigger target, posed a bigger threat. If anything were to happen to her, he was as good as dead. Coming from Richard Prince, that was a promise. 

What should’ve been two years turned into seven. Seven years pretended his past with Stacey didn’t matter. Seven years filled with miscellaneous women that couldn’t take her spot. Seven years of his son’s lives that he’d missed.

He turns the music on. Loud. Anything to drown out the truth still ringing in his chest. But it doesn’t work.

Not today.

He was alone.

4:44PM in Los Angeles

Lorena Sawers, formerly Prince, stood outside Terminal 4 at LAX like the matriarch she was; unbothered by the swirl of traffic, travelers, or time. Her presence alone commanded a certain reverence. Drivers slowed down just to get a better look. At nearly sixty, she had the kind of beauty that didn’t fade. It evolved. A deep, rich brown glow like molasses in sunlight, smooth and radiant, with undertones of gold that seemed to catch the light from every angle. Her skin was the kind that spoke of legacy, good genes, and expensive skincare—regal, nurtured, and timeless.

Her freshly done honey-blonde highlights swept through soft, shoulder-length curls, styled with bounce and precision that moved with her. The new color brought out her cheekbones and brightened her face, giving her an extra touch of summertime flair. She had almond-shaped hazel eyes, sharp and discerning behind oversized tortoiseshell shades. Her lips—full and expertly glossed—pressed together in that familiar way that said she was thinking three things at once and holding back four.

Lorena didn’t do ‘disheveled’. She was dressed like she was headed to a brunch in the hills, not the arrivals curb at LAX. A crisp white linen blouse hugged her figure, the sleeves perfectly cuffed at her elbows, paired with high-waisted wide-leg trousers in a terracotta hue that complemented the warm undertone of her skin. Her gold jewelry gleamed subtly in the sun: thick hoop earrings, a stack of bangles on one wrist, a delicate chain anklet that peeked beneath her camel-toned Bottega mules. Her Fendi tote, monogrammed and structured, hung neatly from the crook of her arm.

And the scent of her perfume, Chanel Gabrielle, drifted around her like a finishing touch, floral and commanding, the olfactory version of saying “I’m here.”

She checked her watch, just once. Then smoothed a hand down the front of her blouse, not out of nerves but routine. She loved her daughter, and adored her grandsons, but this was more than a pickup. She could feel it. There was something unsaid pressing beneath the surface of this return trip. And Lorena had never been a fan of secrets that disrupted her peace. If anything, she preferred to be the disrupter.

But when she saw them—Stacey first, then the two little boys tugging along their suitcases behind her—everything else faded. Her face lit up in a way that softened even the crispest edge of her glamour.

“There go my sweet boys,” she breathed, lips curving as she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head.

“Nani!” the twins squealed in unison, dropping everything to run straight for her.

Lorena knelt to meet them, arms wide, her jewelry clinking softly as she pulled them in tight. She kissed both their foreheads with practiced ease, pulling them back just enough to inspect their faces. “Y’all look taller. Is your mama feeding you or just letting you grow wild?”

They giggled, clinging to her like she was home wrapped in silk.

Then came Stacey. And Lorena’s smile turned warm, maternal, knowing.

She stood and reached for her daughter, eyes full. “You look like you need a hug too.”

Their hug was long and quiet, the kind of embrace built on years of love, survival, and choices made for protection. Lorena didn’t ask questions—not yet. She just held her.

Because whatever Stacey was carrying, whatever brought her back home with wide eyes and no ring on her finger, Lorena would be ready.

“I stopped by LAX Tacos. Figured y’all needed something other than ginger ale and biscoff cookies.” Stacey’s mother, Lorena, informed Stacey and the boys as they approached her white Range Rover Velar.

”Yayyy! Thanks Nani!” The boys shouted.They rushed to their respective seats in the back taking their backpacks with them.

Lorena and Stacey shared a laugh as they loaded the luggage into the truck.

”Oooo! Did you get me a Mexican Coke?” Stacey asked.

”Anastasia, I've told you too many times about that stuff.” She scolded.

”How can I enjoy my asada tacos without it? It’ll heal my soul. You need to try it before you knock it.”

”I have tried it. That’s why I knocked it…It’s in the bag child.”

 Stacey scrambles to grab the bag. Pulling out the Mexican coke using the bottle opener on her keys to pop the cap off. Takes a gulp then releases a sigh letting her head sink into the headrest with her eyes closed. The chilled sugary carbonated goodness overtaking her. 

“You’re the best mom. I swear.” Stacey muttered.

”Mhmm. Now why does your soul need healing?”

”Your Ex-husband and he who shall not be named.” Stacey tried to whisper aware of the twins just a few feet away in the back seat. 

Her mom peaks at them through the rear view to see if they were listening. Whether they were or not, she caught a glimpse of them dancing in their seats while munching on quesadillas. 

“What happened?”

”He invited him to his birthday cookout and didn’t tell me beforehand.”

She tried not to throw on her breaks hearing what her daughter just said. She tapped her index and middle fingers along the top of the steering wheel, shifting her head to the side a tad bit.

”So let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “Your father invited that man—Elias Moore—to his birthday party, knowing good and damn well you and the boys would be there?”

Stacey nodded, eyes heavy. “Well thanks for naming him. And yeah. That’s what I just said.”

“And he did this without telling you.”

Stacey hummed.

“He said it was his party. That he didn’t owe me that.”

Lorena threw her right hand down on the center console with deliberate force.

“That smug, inconsiderate bastard.”

Stacey blinked. “Mama—” She tried to interrupt her mother’s incoming rant.

“No, no. I’m about sick of his shit. He respected your decision not to tell Elias for seven years and then, conveniently, once you’re engaged, he decides he suddenly has a change of heart?” Lorena crossed her arms as they sat at a red light. “I knew Richard was arrogant, but this is a new level of audacity.”

Stacey stayed quiet.

“I’m calling him.”

“Mama—”

Lorena held up her hand.

“I don’t give a damn if he’s your father. He needs to understand the consequences of playing God with people’s lives.”

”You know how he is. He got all self righteous about it. Talking about it was wrong to keep them away for so long anyway.”

“You’re too nice,” she said, turning to Stacey. “I don’t know where you get that from. I would’ve torn into him at that damn cookout.”

Stacey leaned back in her chair, exhaling for what felt like the first time all day.

“I know,” she said softly. “But I didn’t want to make a scene. The boys were there.”

Lorena studied her daughter for a moment, then leaned forward, her voice dropping.

“You need to be honest with yourself about this man, baby. Elias showing up was a storm waiting to happen. You kept him out of your life for a reason. Now that he’s back, everything’s on shaky ground — including that ring you’ve been hiding.”

That landed. Stacey looked down at her bare finger.

“Does he know?” Lorena asked, sharper now. “Your fiancé. That you didn’t wear it? That you were out there pretending to be… available?”

“No. Not yet and I wasn’t pretending to be available.” Stacey rebutted.

Lorena sighed, disappointment flickering across her face like a shadow.

“Well, tell him. Before someone else does. You’ve got enough to deal with without a broken engagement on top of it.” She stated as she pulled into the driveway of Stacey’s Spanish style home.

 It was a charming cream two story house. Impressive real estate for a young woman in Los Angeles. Lorena still remembers how Stacey beamed with pride when she told her it was a smart choice. She never wavered in her support of her daughter. However, she stood firm on her disapproval of her daughter trying to appease Richard Sr.

The front door swung open with a soft click. The sun is low, casting amber streaks across the sleek hardwood floors of their airy modernly renovated home in the Beverly Grove area. Los Angeles’s bumper to bumper traffic caused the route home to take an hour. Cool central air hits their skin after the thick, humid weight of Houston heat. The home smells like eucalyptus and clean linen, a sharp contrast to the smoky barbecue and cut grass scent that clung to them all weekend.

Stacey steps in first, hair swept into a loose bun, one hand gripping her suitcase, the other nudging her tired sons forward. Ezra and Elias Jr. rush past her, dragging their backpacks and chattering with wild energy.

“We’re home! Tyler! TY-LERRR!” Ezra screeched.

“Where is he?! I gotta tell him what Granddad said!” EJ inquired at an equal volume of his brother.

From deeper in the house, footsteps approach fast and steady. Tyler appears in the open-concept kitchen, sleeves pushed up, a dish towel tossed over his shoulder. Broad shoulders, tattoos peeking from under his shirt, his smile is immediate and warm; the kind of smile that makes a house feel like a sanctuary.

“There go my favorite dudes.” Tyler called out.

The twins bolt toward him, launching themselves into his arms. He crouches slightly to meet them mid-sprint, scooping them up like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Ezra wraps his arms around Tyler’s neck. Elias Jr. nearly topples them all over.

“Tyler, we saw fireworks! And Uncle Ricky cussed out the DJ.” Ezra began the recap of their Houston trip.

“And I ate ribs with no napkins!” EJ added.

“No napkins? Man, I leave y’all for three days and you turn into wild animals.” Tyler teased.

He laughs, holding them both a little longer before setting them down. He looks up at Stacey. His expression shifts subtly, softening as their eyes meet.

“Hey baby.” He greeted her warmly.

“Heyyy” Stacey offered in a tired singsong voice.

He walks over and presses a kiss to her forehead, then rests his palm gently at her lower back before pecking her lips.

“Missed you. This place felt too damn quiet without y’all.”

She leans into his touch, breathing him in. Safe. Solid. Familiar. She took in the scent of Saffron, Jasmine, and Amberwood from his Baccarat cologne.

“Alright, go throw your stuff in the laundry room. Don’t even try to sneak those clothes into your drawers without washing them. We got standards in this house.” Tyler said, peeking over his shoulder at the twins.

“Okayyyy.” They mumbled in unison.

The boys scramble down the hallway, leaving bags and shoes in their wake.

Stacey sets her suitcase near the stairs and glances around the living room. Tyler had been busy. The house is clean, a bouquet of fresh peonies sits on the counter, and her favorite almond milk creamer is set out next to a mug, like he already anticipated her needing tea.

“You want tea or wine?”

“Tea first. Wine after bedtime.”

He nods, moving to the kitchen like he’s been waiting for this moment all weekend.

“So… how was it?”

She sinks into the plush sectional, eyes drifting to the warm glow of the table lamp, then to the muted cityscape beyond their windows. The tension she held all weekend hasn’t left her shoulders yet.

“It was a lot. The boys had fun, though. That’s what matters.”

Tyler pours hot water into her mug, drops the tea bag in, and brings it over. When he hands it to her, his fingers linger on hers.

“And you? Did you have fun?”

She swallows. Her voice low.

“Parts of it. Other parts… not so much.”

He lowers himself beside her, their knees touching. His presence is gentle, but steady — like a wall she can lean against.

“Let me guess. Richard Sr. stirred the pot?”

She lets out a dry laugh.

“He invited Elias to the cookout. Didn’t tell me.”

Tyler’s jaw ticks subtly. He looks ahead, not at her, exhaling through his nose.

“Of course he did.” A quiet moment passes. “You good?” Tyler asked.

She nods slowly.

“I handled it. The twins were… amazing, actually. They didn’t freak out or shut down. I think they’re just trying to make sense of it all. It’s still new.”

He turns to face her fully now, one hand resting on her thigh, thumb moving in small slow circles.

“You told me from the start what came with you. I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about you.”

She looks at him now, really looks at him. His patience. His presence. His refusal to compete with a ghost or a fantasy.

“I’m okay. Just drained.” Stacey shrugs shifting in her seat angling her body closer to his.

“Then next time, I’m coming too.” Tyler asserts.

That surprises her. She peers over at him with raised eyebrows.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t need your father’s approval. But I want to show up for you. For the boys. We’re a unit and I’m not letting anyone make you feel like I’m not part of this just because I don’t move the way they do.” 

The unspoken they easily being her father, ex and the like.

She blinks, her throat tightening.

“You’d really go?”

“Try and stop me.”

He kisses her hand again, then leans forward to press his lips to her temple.

“Besides… someone’s gotta make sure Ricky don’t cuss out the DJ again.” He continued.

They both laugh, tired but genuine. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her close, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.

From down the hall, a voice calls out:

“Tyler! I can’t find my Spider-Man sock!” Ezra complains.

“Check the dryer! Left side, behind the missing towel.” Tyler responds not missing a beat.

“How’d you know?!” EJ yells from the hallway.

“Because… this house talks to me man.” Tyler joked.

Stacey chuckles, wiping a tear from under her eye with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“You know they really think you are a superhero.”

He shrugs, kissing her forehead again.

“Only ‘cause you made me one.”

He glances at her left hand. She notices immediately. Her breathing hitches for a moment and she bites her bottom lip.

“You forgot your ring.” He stated plainly and open, allowing a response from Stacey.

She doesn’t answer right away. Takes a sip of tea, gaze fixed on a spot just past his shoulder.

“I was rushing. That morning was chaotic. The boys… I barely made the flight.” Stacey offered as an excuse.

“Stace.” 

His tone isn’t sharp. It’s low, clear, and unshakeable. Like he’s not asking for a performance. Just the truth.

She finally meets his eyes letting out a small sigh. Stacey felt the weight of the past 3 days. It seemed she was doing more damage than she ever intended on doing. This was the clear result of her people pleasing.

“Okay.” She began.

He waits, letting her fill the silence.

“I didn’t want the extra drama. You know my dad barely tolerates you. He’s still sour about not being invited when you proposed… and I didn’t want to deal with him saying something sideways in front of the boys. I just… thought it’d be easier.” She tried to explain.

“I hear you.” Tyler mumbles.

He sets his drink down and turns fully to her, his knee brushing hers.

“I get why you made that call. And I trust you to protect your peace.” She nods slowly, but he’s not finished. “But leaving it behind, it wasn’t just about avoiding drama. It was about trying to make yourself smaller in a space where you already know you don’t fit. A space you walked away from.”

“I didn’t want to put more fuel on the fire.”

“Baby… you’re not fire. You’re the truth.”

She swallows hard.

“You’re allowed to have a new life. You’re allowed to be happy. And you’re allowed to wear your ring, even in the places that made you feel like you had to earn love.” He reassures her.

Her eyes sting. She looks down at her hand; bare, now trembling just a little.

“I wasn’t ashamed of you. Or us. I just—“ Stacey defended.

“I know. And I’m not mad. I just want you to stop shrinking to make other people comfortable. Especially when those people had years to step up and didn’t.”

Silence stretches between them. She blinks quickly to stop the tears from spilling. The guilt and stress overtaking her.

“I didn’t ask you to marry me so you could hide. I asked you because I see you. All of you. And I want to be seen too — even in the rooms that still think I’m just the ‘square.’”

That one lands. She reaches for his hand, sliding her fingers through his.

“You’re the most solid thing in my life. I should’ve worn it. I’m sorry.”

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Thank you… for calling me out without making me feel small.’

“Always. That’s what love is, right? Not just showing up, but standing tall next to each other, even when the room feels heavy. I know a few ways you can make it up to me though” a sly grin crosses his face. 

Stacey giggles. “Oh yea?”

”Mhm.” He grips her thighs pulling her onto his lap.