The black SUV moved steadily through afternoon traffic, sunlight flashing across the tinted windows. Shamori sat behind the wheel, eyes on the road, while Bonnie rode in the backseat like she always did. For several blocks, neither of them spoke. Then Bonnie’s voice came from the back, low and tired. “You think I did the right thing back there?” Shamori’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror for a second before returning to the road. “I think you did what had to be done, Boss.” Bonnie let out a short, bitter breath. “That ain’t the same as right.” She shook her head. “That girl was carryin’ my blood. My nephew’s child. And I sat there and put a price on its life like it was just another problem to clean up.” Shamori was quiet for a moment, the only sound was the low hum of the engine. “Wayne can barely handle being a stepfather; there's no way he could help raise a child of his own,” he said finally. “Not with the way he’s living. You know that better than anybody. If that baby had been born, it would’ve been raised in the middle of his mess: his music, his women, his broken promises. That's no kind of life for a child.”

Bonnie’s jaw tightened. “Still feels like I crossed a line I can’t uncross.”

“You protected the family,” Shamori said, calm and certain. “That’s what you do. You didn’t do it for Wayne. You did it for Trisha. She’s a good, loyal woman. She’s already raising Stacie practically on her own while Wayne runs the streets. You spared Trisha from having to explain to her daughter why her stepdaddy’s name is all over the tabloids and court papers.”

He paused, then added quietly, “And you spared Adanna. You know how religious she is. Her heart would break if she had to hear what her son's been doing.” Bonnie exhaled slowly, the fight draining from her shoulders. “Trisha don’t deserve none of this,” she agreed. “Neither does that child or Dana.”

“No, they don’t,” Shamori said. “But you made sure they won’t have to live with it. You carried that weight so they wouldn’t have to. That’s what real family does.”

Bonnie was quiet for a long moment, watching the city slide past her window. “You always know what to say,” she said at last.

Shamori allowed the smallest smile in the rearview mirror. “I just know you, Boss. And I know you never do anything just to be cruel. You make moves out of love for the family. Even when they don’t deserve it.” Bonnie nodded once, then leaned back against the seat. “Take the long way home, Shamori,” she said softly. “I ain’t in no rush to get there today.”