#sammy moore

Sinners Masterlist

Lied To You--- When a night of passion leads to a baby, and Stack finds out seven years too late.

Part(s): One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Y'all I have nothing to say but-

Elias Moore x Black Oc x Elijah Moore

✨Book Description & Face Claims Here✨

Warnings: Dark Romance, Betrayal & Deception, Religious Manipulation, Toxic Family Dynamic’s, Corporation Sabotage, Stalking, Purity Culture, Non-Consensual Wager, Dubious Intentions, Misogyny, Classism, Corruption, Maybe more!

~

The air in the Mississippi Delta didn’t just hang; it pressed down like a wet wool blanket, thick with the scent of damp earth, honeysuckle, and the slow-moving river. In the town of Clarksdale, status was measured by the acreage of your estate and the length of your family’s shadow.

The Wards and the Moores were the undisputed royalty of the Delta. The Wards, led by their patriarch Clarence and his children, Clare and Keith, sat atop a hair care empire built on integrity and the genuine health of their community. The Moores, however, were the dark side of that same coin. Their skincare line was worth millions, but it was built on a foundation of cut corners and silenced victims.

On the last Sunday of the month, the sun beat down on the stained-glass windows of First Baptist, casting fractured shards of ruby and sapphire light across the pews. It was the day of the Purity Pledge, a sacred tradition where daughters publicly committed their virtue to their parents. Media and press were present to see if the Ward girl would be pledging hers.

The heavy oak doors of First Baptist groaned open, cutting right through the opening hymn. Silas didn’t just walk in; he made an entrance, his charcoal silk suit looking like money in a sea of dusty, off-the-rack Sunday best. Behind him, his family moved with a quiet, polished flex that had the deacons rolling their eyes and the aunties in the back pews whispering.

Up on the altar, Simon—the “less” wealthy but “fulfilled” brother of Silas—gripped the edges of the pulpit, his knuckles turning ash-white. To the congregation, Simon was the holy shepherd and Silas was the "lost" brother who’d sold his soul for a check. But the family knew the real deal: they were two of the same man—both cold, both ruthless—it was just that Silas was better at the game.

Sammy sat in the high-backed velvet chair directly behind his father, looking every bit the "Prince of the Ministry” in his father’s words, but to everybody else, he was just plain old “Preacher Boy.” He was the hand-picked legacy, the one expected to pick up the mantle when Simon was done. But as he looked down at his uncle in the front pew, Sammy didn’t see the devil his father preached about. He saw a way out.

Simon’s voice boomed, starting a prayer that sounded more like a threat, but Sammy’s mind was already gone. He wasn't thinking about his "calling"; he was thinking about that corner office Silas had put his name on—a life that sat waiting behind a mahogany desk, miles away from the suffocating weight of his father’s shadow.

Simon spoke into the microphone with spit and conviction that masked his hate for his brother, his eyes locking onto Silas like he was staring down a demon. He didn't waste any time.

"You see, some people think a designer suit can cover a dirty heart," Simon boomed, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "They come back to the house of the Lord actin' like fake reformed sinners, showin' off what they’ve gathered in the world as if God is impressed by a bank statement. But you can't buy your way into grace when you’re still servin' the devil’s bottom line."

In the front pew, the Moore twins shared a look. Elias let out a soft, sharp smirk, leaning back like he was watching a comedy special. Elijah, on the other hand, just scoffed and looked away, over his uncle’s theatrics.

"But church, there is a difference between a man who uses his wealth to build a monument to himself, and a man who uses it to build a kingdom for the Lord," Simon preached, his eyes cutting toward Silas for a split second before landing on the front row where the Wards sat. He smoothed his expression, a saintly smile finally breaking through. "We have to give honor where it’s due. While some folks leave this community and forget the dirt they came from, others stay rooted. I want to personally thank the Ward family—Clarence, your heart for this ministry is unmatched. As our top contributors and investors, you’ve shown this city that you can have the world's success and still keep your faith. You didn't let the money turn you into a stranger to the Word, unlike some who think they’ve outgrown the pews they were raised in."

A chorus of "Amen!" and "That’s right!" rippled through the congregation. Silas didn't blink; he just sat there with that same stone-cold expression, looking like he was checking the time in his head.

"The Wards are a testament!" Simon shouted, building to the climax. "They know that a foundation built on gold is nothin' compared to a foundation built on the Rock! Let us pray."

As the heads bowed, Sammy glanced at his father, then at Silas. The sermon was a wrap, but the war was just starting.

The tension was broken by the start of the Purity Ceremony. A line of young women in white dresses filed to the front with their families, including Clare Ward. Clare stood in the vestibule, smoothing the silk of her cream-colored dress. At twenty-one, she possessed a quiet, ethereal beauty—dark skin like polished mahogany and eyes that held a certain innocence that felt out of place in a world this wealthy.

Beside her stood Keith, his arms crossed over his chest, his suit jacket straining against his broad shoulders. He was twenty-five, four years older and a lifetime more cynical.

"I don't like it, Clare," Keith muttered, his Delta drawl low and jagged. "Look at 'em. Front row. The Moores don't come to service unless there’s a camera or a checkbook involved."

Clare glanced through the cracked door. The Moore twins, Elias and Elijah, sat like two dark princes in the front pew. They were identical in face—sharp jawlines, high cheekbones, and eyes the color of bourbon—but their spirits were worlds apart.

"Mama says we shouldn't judge," Clare whispered, though her heart hammered against her ribs.

"Mama’s a saint. I’m a businessman," Keith countered. "The Moores are sinkin', Clare. Those lawsuits from the early formulas—the ones that caused the chemical burns? They’re lookin' for a quiet way out. I ain’t stupid."

When the ceremony began, the Moores played their parts perfectly. Golf claps were in play for every young lady that stepped up to proudly give her pledge, but when it was Clare’s turn, the real show began. As she stepped forward, the back of the church lit up with the frantic flicker of camera flashes. The press was moving in close—this wasn't just a church event; for a Ward, it was a media moment. And the Moores needed their piece.

Eloise stood to her feet, hand clinging to her chest as if she were mourning. Silas backed her by placing a light hand on her back, rubbing circles. This was only the beginning, as Eloise was now sniffing, gathering crocodile tears. Katrina, the matriarch of the Wards, looked over at the display with kind eyes, but her attention quickly turned back toward her daughter.

Keith’s eyebrows raised, not at Eloise’s act, but at her sons' reactions. They both covered their faces—one holding back laughter and the other hiding his look of embarrassment. Camera flashes went back-to-back. The headlines were already written: "Faith, Family, and Future: The Moore and Ward Families Stand United for a Special Morning."

Once the service let out, the lobby turned into a battlefield of handshakes and fake smiles. Simon moved quickly, cornering Clarence Ward near the grand staircase. "Clarence, I’ve been lookin' over those plans for the community center expansion," Simon said, lowering his voice to his 'business' tone. "With your backin', we could really—"

He was cut off by the sound of Silas’s polished leather shoes clicking against the marble. Silas and his family glided over like they owned the building.

"Clarence, good to see you lookin' well," Silas said, his voice smooth and commanding. Just like that, the air left Simon’s lungs. Mr. Ward’s eyes lit up, his posture shifting instantly away from the Pastor.

"Silas! I was wonderin' if you’d make it into town for church one of these Sundays.”

Simon stood there, forced to watch as his "big business venture" evaporated, the billionaire’s full attention now locked on the brother he had just spent an hour calling a sinner.

"Clarence, that was a movin' display. Truly," Silas said, his voice a deep, practiced baritone. "In a world that’s gone to the dogs, seein' a young woman value herself like that... it brings a tear to a man’s eye. Eloise and I were hopin' y'all might join us for dinner at the estate tonight? It’s been far too long since our families sat at one table."

Clarence, a man who saw the best in everyone to a fault, smiled warmly. "That’s mighty kind of you, Silas. We’d be honored."

Keith’s jaw tightened. He looked at Elias, who was adjusting his cufflinks with a smug grin. "We’ll be there," Keith said, his voice flat, "but don't expect us to stay for dessert. We got a busy week ahead."

When the sun set around six p.m., the Moore estate stood like a white ghost against the dark Delta sky as the Wards’ SUV pulled up the long, gravel drive. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the damp promise of rain. As Clarence parked, Katrina took a final look in the compact mirror, smoothing her hair.

"Remember," she whispered to her children, "we are guests. Grace and poise."

Keith caught Clare’s eye in the rearview mirror and gave a subtle roll of his eyes. He didn't trust the Moores, and the way the massive front doors swung open before they even reached the porch only solidified his unease. It was too rehearsed.

Silas and Eloise Moore greeted them in the foyer, dripping in charcoal silks and gold. The twins, Elias and Elijah, stood just behind them. They were a striking pair, but while Elias wore a grin that looked like it had been practiced in a mirror, Elijah just gave a respectful nod, his eyes lingering on Clare for a second longer than everybody else. Keith noticed.

The dining room was a cathedral of mahogany and silver. As the first course of blackened shrimp and corn bisque was served, the conversation turned to the future.

"So, Keith," Silas said, swirling a deep red wine. "Clarence tells me you were quite the scholar up at Morehouse. Business Administration, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Keith replied, his voice level and professional. "Graduated top of my class. I spent my summers in our warehouses, learnin' the supply chain from the floor up. I didn't want to just run the company; I wanted to understand why it works."

Katrina beamed, her hand resting on Clare’s arm. "And my Clare, she studied Botany and Chemistry at Spelman. She’s the reason our new 'Crown Glory' line is ninety-eight percent organic. She understands the science of the scalp better than any consultant we ever hired."

"Education is a fine thing," Silas said, though he glanced at his own sons. "My boys, they didn't have much patience for the classroom. They wanted to be in the thick of it. They started helpin' with Moore Glow before they even had their licenses."

"Elias here is a shark when it comes to the marketin'," Eloise added. "He’s the reason our social media presence is what it is. He knows how to sell a dream."

"And Elijah," Silas noted, his voice carrying a rare note of genuine respect, "he’s the one who realized our old formulas weren't cuttin' it for the modern woman. He handpicked every chemist we got in the lab right now. He focused 'em specifically on melanated skin tones. Because of his direction, our new formula is thirty percent more effective for Black skin than anythin' else on the shelf."

Clare looked over at Elijah, impressed despite herself. "Thirty percent? That’s a significant jump in efficacy, Elijah. Most companies struggle to hit ten."

Elijah leaned forward, his businessman mindset clicking into gear. "It was about the pH balance. We were usin' stabilizers that were too harsh. I told the team to look at the cellular turnover rates for deeper skin tones. We stopped guessin' and started measurin'."

Elias’s jaw tightened. He shifted in his seat, his fork scraping against his china with a sharp, dissonant sound. He hated being the second thought much like his uncle, especially when the praise was going to his "quiet" brother in front of the potential partners he was supposed to be impressing.

"Well," Elias interrupted, his voice dripping with a forced charm, "effective formulas are great, but they don't mean much if the face of the company ain't right. Speakin' of 'right'... we were all so moved by your ceremony today, Clare. That purity promise... that’s a rare thin' to see in this day and age. It shows real discipline. Real... value."

The table went quiet for a beat. Clare felt the heat rise to her neck. "Thank you, Elias."

Eloise Moore leaned toward Clare, her eyes shining with a forced maternal warmth. "Clare, honey, you looked like an angel today," Eloise cooed, her Delta accent dripping like molasses. "I was tellin' my boys on the way home, I wish to heaven they could find themselves a girl as refined and decent as you. These girls today... they got no mystery, no respect for their temples. But you? You’re a rare jewel, darlin'."

Clare blushed, her fork hovering over her plate. "Thank you, Mrs. Moore. My parents raised me to believe my heart and my body are gifts to be guarded."

"And they were right to do so," Silas chimed in, nodding toward Clarence. "You’ve built a fine legacy, Clarence. The Wards and the Moores... we’re the royalty of this Delta. Black wealth is a fragile thin' in this country.“ He paused, signaling the maid to pour more wine. Silas saw his opening. He set his wine glass down after taking a sip and leaned in, his expression turning serious but casual.

"You know," Silas started, "seein' these four young people at one table... it makes you think. We’re the pillars of this Delta. But the world out there is gettin' bigger, and it’s gettin' hungrier. We got the science, and soul that cracked the code. Imagine if we stopped competin' for the same shelf space and just owned the shelf."

"The scale would be unmatched," Eloise expanded, her eyes lighting up. "We could dominate the African American beauty market globally. Ward hair care and Moore skincare... under one roof? It wouldn't just be a business; it would be a dynasty. Our daughters and sons wouldn't just be heirs; they’d be rulers."

Katrina looked at Clarence. She saw the logic. She saw the protection a merger could offer her children's future. "It would certainly keep the wealth concentrated in our community," she mused. "Keep the legacy safe from outsiders."

Clarence looked around the room. He saw the twins, he saw his daughter’s blush, and he saw Silas’s outstretched hand. He was a man of the Delta—he believed in handshakes and bloodlines.

Keith leaned back, his eyes narrowed. "And what about those lawsuits, Silas? I hear tell your 'distribution networks' are currently busy signin' NDAs and payin' out settlements for that 1989 line that caused the skin sloughin'."

Silas dropped his hand. The room went ice-cold. Silas’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes turned to flint. "Gossip is a dangerous thin', Keith. We had a few bad batches from a supplier we’ve since cut ties with. It’s exactly why we need a partner like Botanical Ward—to help us return to our roots. It’s a win-win."

"I don't see the win for us," Keith pushed back. "We’re profitable, we’re clean, and we’re respected. Tyin' our name to yours right now feels like hitchin' a wagon to a sinkin' ship."

"Keith!" his mother, Katrina, hissed softly. "That is no way to speak to our hosts."

"Clarence, think of the scale," Silas ignored Keith, focusing on the father. "We could take Botanical Ward global. Your children would never have to worry about a competitor again. We’d be a monopoly of excellence."

"I think," Clarence said, his voice deep and final, "it’s time we put the rivalry to bed. I’m in favor of the merger."

"Then it’s settled," Silas said, a predatory spark dancing in his eyes. "First thin' tomorrow mornin', we meet at your headquarters. We’ll have our legal teams there to put everythin' into writin' and discuss the specifics of the transition."

"Tomorrow at nine," Clarence agreed. He stood up, and Silas did the same. The two men shook hands—a firm, heavy grip that sealed the fate of both families. Keith and Elias shared an almost intense stare-down while their siblings shared the same look of disinterest.

"We’ll excuse ourselves then," Katrina said, rising with a gracious smile. "It was a wonderful dinner, Eloise. Truly."

As the Wards walked to their car, the Moores stood on the porch, waving. But as soon as the SUV’s taillights faded into the night, the smiles vanished.

Clarence led the way, his steps steady and purposeful, while Katrina smoothed the front of her Sunday silk, her face a mask of polite exhaustion that only a Southern mother could pull off. Keith and Clare trailed behind, the tension between the siblings practically humming in the night air.

Once the doors slammed and Clarence pulled the heavy vehicle onto the gravel driveway, the "royalty" act dropped.

"I don't like it, Clarence," Katrina said softly, her voice reflecting the flickering shadows of the passing willow trees. "Silas was pushin' real hard on that merger. And Eloise... the way she was praisin' our Clare for that pledge, like she was a piece of fine china they were plannin' to put in a cabinet... it didn't sit right with my spirit. It felt like they were measurin' her worth in perception, not character."

"They're just eager, Katrina," Clarence sighed, his large hands gripping the steering wheel. "The Moores are facin' some headwinds. Silas was honest about that—the lawsuits, the bad press. A merger keeps the wealth where it belongs—in our hands. If we don't move together, some white-owned conglomerate from New York is gonna swoop in and buy 'em out for pennies. We can't let that happen to a Black legacy in this Delta."

"It ain't about the legacy for them, Daddy, and you know it," Keith snapped from the backseat, his voice sharp enough to cut through the hum of the engine. "Did you see those twins? Elias was lookin' at our corporate maps like he’d already conquered 'em. And Elijah... I don't know what his game is, but something ain’t right. They’re vultures. You just agreed to let vultures into our house."

"Keith, that's enough," Clarence warned, catching his son's eyes in the rearview mirror. "We gave our word to explore the merger. It’s a business move, not a marriage proposal."

Clare, who had been quiet and tucked into the corner of the seat, looked out at the dark fields of cotton. "They praised me so much for keepin' my purity, Mama. It felt... strange. Like they were checkin' my credentials more than my heart."

"That’s 'cause they were," Keith muttered, looking over at his sister. "Clare, you stay away from 'em. I don't care how many 'Christian values' Silas claims they have. Those boys are bad news. Wouldn’t be surprised if they start aimin' for you because you’re the only thing we have that they can’t bargain for."

"I can handle myself, Keith," Clare said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. "Elias seemed...motivated. And Elijah was actually quite respectful when he spoke to me."

" Motivated and respectful?" Keith laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "That’s the trap, sis. One plays the wolf, the other plays the sheep, but they both want the same thing. Daddy, you’re makin' a mistake. You're invitin' the devil to Sunday dinner and wonderin' why the milk is turnin' sour."

"That is enough, Keith!" Clarence’s voice boomed, filling the car. "We are the Wards. We operate with grace and we lead with faith. If the Moores have pure intentions, we’ll thrive. If they don't, we’ll see it soon enough. But we will not be the ones to break a handshake deal based on gossip and suspicion."

The rest of the drive was spent in a suffocating quiet.

Back at the Moores, The "Southern Hospitality" act at the Moore estate dropped like a heavy curtain. Silas Moore loosened his tie, his face losing that practiced, paternal warmth. Beside him, Eloise smoothed her hair, her eyes sharp and calculating. They headed straight for the library, the center of their power.

"They're hooked," Silas muttered, pouring himself a stiff drink. "Clarence is a man of honor. He’ll stick to a handshake until it kills him. Now we just need to secure the girl."

He looked at his sons. Elias was leaning against the grand staircase, looking bored, his thumb flying across his phone screen. Elijah was standing by the window, his eyes fixed on the Delta night.

"I ain't doin' it," Elias said, not even looking up. "I got a woman. I don't need to be chasin' after some stuffy church girl who thinks holdin' hands is a sin. It’s bad for my brand, Dad."

"And I ain't interested in bein' a pawn for a business deal," Elijah added. His voice was deeper than his brother's, more resonant. "If you want the Wards' capital, find a way that doesn't involve me playin' house."

Silas and Eloise exchanged a look. They knew their sons’ buttons. They’d been the ones who installed them.

"Elijah, go occupy yourself. I need a word with your brother," Silas commanded.

Once the room was clear, Silas led Elias into his private study. The room smelled of expensive tobacco and old secrets. Silas handed Elias a glass of bourbon.

"Listen to me, Elias. You’re the one who’s gonna run this company. You got my blood—you’re ruthless. But we are bleedin' out, son. Those settlements... they’re gonna take the house, the cars, and the name. Unless we get that Ward signature."

Elias swirled his drink, his eyes narrowing. "So why the girl?"

"Because Clarence and Katrina won't sign over control to a partner. But they'll sign it over to a son-in-law," Silas hissed. "You're the charmer. You know how to break a woman down until she thinks your breath is her oxygen. If you get Clare, you get the keys to the kingdom. Don't tell your brother—he’s got too much 'conscience' for this. You go after her, make her yours, and I’ll make sure your share of the company is doubled before the ink is even dry."

Elias felt the itch of greed. He thought of Mary, then he thought of the power. "Double?"

"Double," Silas confirmed. "Now go. Start plannin' your move."

Meanwhile, Eloise had followed Elijah out onto the sprawling back veranda. The night air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and stagnant river water. Elijah stood with his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his mind sharp—he was already thinking about how to restructure the Wards' distribution to save the Moores' failing line. He had the heart for the girl, but the mind for the money.

"Elijah, honey," Eloise said, her voice soft as velvet. "You know your father and Elias... they see people like numbers on a ledger. But I know you have a heart. I saw the way you looked at that Ward girl tonight. You saw the value in her, didn't you?"

Elijah looked at his mother. He wasn't easily fooled. "She’s a good person, Mama. And she’s smart. Her ideas on natural preservatives could save our company."

Eloise smiled. Her boy was a businessman through and through, but he had a soul. "He knows. And that’s why I'm scared for her. Your father is pushin' Elias to go after her. And you know Elias. He’ll treat her like a trophy. He’ll break her spirit just to get the merger. Is that what you want for a girl like Clare? For her family’s legacy to be swallowed by Elias’s ego?"

Elijah’s jaw tightened. He respected the Wards’ business model—it was clean, efficient, and loyal. The thought of Elias’s chaotic, selfish hands on Clare’s life and her company made his blood simmer.

"I want you to go after her, Elijah. Not to destroy her, but to secure her. Save her from the mess your brother is gonna bring. If you can get her to trust you, we can keep the families together without Elias ruinin' that girl’s life. You’re the only one who can do this right. Do it for the family... and for her."

Elijah looked out at the dark Delta line. He saw the logic. He could protect the Wards, save the Moore legacy, and perhaps find somethin' real for himself in the process. He had a carin' heart, but he knew a strategic advantage when he saw one.

"I'll look out for her, Mama," he said quietly. "And I'll look out for the business."

Later that night, the brothers met in the hallway. The air was thick with the lies their parents had just planted.

“Momma pull you aside to talk shop?" Elias asked, a smug grin on his face.

"Somethin' like that," Elijah replied, his face a mask of indifference. "You still plannin' on stayin' away from the Wards?"

"Yeah," Elias lied, checkin' his watch. "Too much work. I’m gonna let the lawyers handle the merger."

"Good," Elijah said, matchin' the lie. "Me too. I'm just lookin' forward to gettin' back to my own routine."

They clapped each other on the shoulder—two identical faces hiding two completely different betrayals. The wager hadn't been spoken yet, but the hunt had begun.

Weeks later, the merger was underway. The Ward and Moore offices had been consolidated into one high-rise overlooking the Yazoo River.

In the executive breakroom, Elias Moore leaned against the marble counter, watchin' Clare fix a cup of tea. He felt the pressure of his father’s expectations like a boot on his neck. “Secure the Wards,” his father had told him.

"Mornin', Miss Clare," Elias drawled, his voice like velvet over gravel. "You lookin' real focused today. Must be that Ward work ethic everyone’s talkin' 'bout."

Clare looked up, offerin' a polite, guarded smile. "Good morning, Elias. There’s just a lot to organize with the new inventory systems."

Elias stepped closer, invadin' her personal space just enough to be noticed. "You know, my daddy and yours... they’re real excited 'bout this partnership. I think we should be, too. Maybe a private dinner? Just to... go over some marketin'.”

Clare set her spoon down with a soft clack. "Elias, you’re a handsome man, and I’m sure you’re very talented, but marketin' isn’t my forte. Maybe Keith is the person you should be lookin' for. Plus, everyone in this town knows you’ve been with Mary Lewis since we were in grade school. And Mary and I... well, we haven't been friends since she decided to start rumors about my family in high school. I don't think it's appropriate."

Elias didn’t skip a beat. He gave her a slow, shark-like grin. "Mary? Oh, Clare. Thing's ain't always what they seem from the outside." With that, he turned on his heels to leave, and that made Clare wonder why he wasn’t more persistent.

Later that evening, Elias met Mary Lewis in a secluded corner of a local cigar bar. Mary was dressed to kill and wore her bitterness like a designer perfume. She had once been Clare’s best friend, but envy had roted that bond years ago.

“Your little church girl friend rejected my invitation to dinner,” Elias scoffed. After his father’s commands, he let his long-time girlfriend, who carried the same morals as him, know. She, of course, was ecstatic at the idea of the Ward legacy endin' like she intended to do years ago after Clarence declined to invest in her father’s company. She didn’t care if she had to “lose” Elias for that to happen.

"She rejected you?" Mary laughed, a harsh sound. "The little Purity Princess actually said no?"

"She’s guarded," Elias said, swirlin' his whiskey. "But we need this, Mary. If we don't merge, my family loses the estate. The lawsuits are eatin' us alive."

Mary leaned in, her eyes gleamin'. "I have an idea. We 'break up'—publicly. You go to her as a broken man, seekin' redemption. You play the 'reformed sinner' card. Get her to break that little pledge of hers, let me catch you in the act, and we’ll splash it all over the Delta. She’ll be ruined, the Wards will be disgraced, and they’ll sign whatever merger papers we put in front of them just to make the scandal go away."

Elias looked at Mary, a slow smile spreadin' across his face. "You’re a cold one, Mary. I love it."

While Elias was plottin', Elijah was seekin' closure. He drove his truck to a construction site on the edge of town, where the skeletal remains of a new housin' development rose against the orange sunset. Annie Brown, his ex, stood by a foreman’s trailer. She was beautiful and graceful, and also looked completely unimpressed by the luxury SUV pullin' up.

"Elijah. You’re lost," she said, her accent thick and no-nonsense.

"I ain't lost, Annie. I just... I needed to see if there was a 'we' left before I do somethin' I can't take back."

Annie stepped toward him, her eyes softenin' just a fraction before hardenin' again. "I’m gettin' married in the fall, 'Lijah. To a man who owns this site. He’s a good man. He’s quiet. He don't have a family that acts like the Borgias." (A/N: The Borgias show used to be too good! idk why they canceled it 😩)

"I could give you a life where you never have to work a day again," Elijah pleaded. "You know my mama wants me to go after Clare Ward for the business. I don't want to do that if you'll have me."

"Elijah," Annie said firmly. "I’d rather live in a double-wide with a man I trust than in a mansion with a man who lets his mama pull his strings. Go home. Leave that Ward girl alone; she’s too good for the mess you’re bringn'."

With Annie’s final rejection ringin' in his ears, Elijah made a choice. He wouldn't be like Elias. If he was goin' to pursue Clare, he would do it his way.

The next day, white roses and a hand-delivered lunch from the best soul food spot in the Delta appeared on Clare’s desk. A small note attached read: “Just something to make you smile — Elijah.” The gesture did just that.

Without her knowledge, Elias was watchin' the scene unfold through the glass doors of her office with an eyebrow raised in amusement. He was amused, but also annoyed at his brother’s passive “one up” on him. He had to start his pursuit of the girl and set doubt in his brother’s mind quickly, so he headed toward his office.

"I saw the flowers you sent her, 'Lijah," Elias sneered from the doorframe of his brother’s office. "Waste of money. I’m already workin' a deal with Mary. We’re fakin' a split so I can get in her head."

Elijah stood up, his fists clenched. "I’m actually interested in her, Elias. She’s smart, she’s kind... she’s not like the vultures we grew up with. I want to see where this goes naturally. To hell with the merger."

Elias barked a laugh. "You're catchin' feelin's for a Jesus-freak? She’s a prize to be won, not a girl to be loved. Tell you what—a wager. Since you think you’re so charmin'.” Elias sat on his brother’s desk. “First one to get her to break that purity pledge gets the other’s shares of the company until the old man retires. If you're so sure she’s 'into you,' it should be easy."

Elijah looked at his brother with pure disgust. But he knew Elias. If he didn't agree, Elias would play even dirtier.

“Mary’s well is runnin' so dry that you have to prey on an innocent girl’s virginity?” Elijah sat down in his chair, spinnin' his chair the opposite direction of his brother.

“Mary’s actually on board with the plan. Is Annie?” Elias let out a chuckle, pullin' his hand over his mouth.

Elijah stayed silent. His brother had been tryin' to provoke him since childhood in attempts to get what he wants. He spun his chair back around, leanin' in closer toward his brother, slightly lookin' out the window of his office to make sure nobody was watchin'. “I’m nothin' like you, Elias. I actually value what she brings to this company."

"Then prove it," Elias snapped, leanin' forward as well, his eyes flashin' with a sudden, dark inspiration.

Elijah’s jaw tightened. "I’m not bettin' on a woman, Elias. Grow up."

"Oh, you're scared," Elias provoked, a cruel smirk spreadin' across his face. "You’re scared because you know that the second I turn on the charm, your 'acts of service' won't mean a damn thin'. You know that deep down, she wants a man who isn't afraid to break the rules. If you’re so much 'better' than me, why not put somethin' on it?“

The provocation had hit its mark, stingin' Elijah’s pride and triggerin' that dormant, competitive Moore streak.

"Fine. But when I win, you stay away from her and this company for a while.”

“Deal,” Elias put on his famous smirk, extendin' his hand toward his brother. Elijah took it firmly, shakin' it. Elias silently stood up and smoothed out his suit before walkin' toward the door.

“May the better man win,” Elias whispered, tippin' an invisible hat toward his brother before backin' out of the office before his brother could respond.

~