My stomach dropped. “Both?”
“You heard me.”
I swallowed hard, my mind spinning with the implications. “So how will they know if the baby is his or mine?”
My father set down the document he’d been reading and removed his glasses with deliberate slowness. When he looked at me, his eyes were cold and sharp, the kind of look that had made grown men confess to things they hadn’t done just to make it stop. “It doesn’t fucking matter whose sperm it is. Amai is the father. Period.”
The words hit me like a slap. I opened my mouth to respond, to argue, to say something, but nothing came out. My father leaned back in his chair, studying me with the kind of scrutiny that made my skin crawl.
“Why are you asking so many damn questions?” he said, his voice dropping into that dangerous register that meant I was on thin ice. “And why the fuck are you excited like you about to be a daddy or some shit?”
I froze. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I wanted to tell him about the park, about the way Truth had looked at me when we talked about day trading, about the connection I’d felt every time we talked or spent time together. But I couldn’t. Because my father would see it for what it was—a threat to Amai’s arrangement, a complication that could unravel everything.
So, I just stood there, silent, my hands still shoved in my pockets, my jaw tight.
My father’s expression darkened. He stood up slowly, his full height and presence filling the room in a way that made me feel like a child again, like the fuck-up little brother who’d caused the injury that stole Amai’s fertility, who’d been too drunk to handle the pickup that got our twin brothers killed. “Let me make something very clear to you, Kaisen. You better not ruin this. You hear me? You don’t say shit to Amai. You don’t get involved. You don’t do anything that jeopardizes what we’ve built here.”
“Dad—”
“I’m not finished.” His voice was ice. “That baby is Amai’s. That woman is Amai’s. The arrangement is Amai’s. You are a backup plan, nothing more. A biological insurance policy in case his sperm didn’t take. But as far as this family is concerned, as far as the world is concerned, that child belongs to your brother. Do you understand me?”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
“If you fuck this up,” my father continued, moving around the desk to stand directly in front of me, “if you say one word to Amai, if you do anything that makes him question this arrangement, it’s your ass. And I’m not fucking around, Kaisen. I will cut you out of this family so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
The threat hung in the air between us, heavy and absolute. My father didn’t make empty promises. He’d built an empireon following through, on making sure people understood that crossing him came with consequences that couldn’t be undone.
“I understand,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good.” He stepped back, his expression softening just slightly, though the warning remained in his eyes. “Now get out of my house. And Kaisen? Stay away from that woman. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re feeling—kill it. Before it kills you.”
I turned and walked out of the study, my legs unsteady, my mind reeling. By the time I made it to my car, my hands were shaking. I sat in the driver’s seat for a long moment, staring at the steering wheel, trying to process what had just happened.
My father had just told me I might be a father without being allowed to claim it. That Truth was off-limits. That the connection I’d felt in the park, the chemistry that had sparked between us over Dixie Cups and day trading, meant nothing in the face of family politics and Amai’s claim.
I started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, my chest tight with grief, rage, and helplessness all tangled together.
Truth was pregnant.
And I had to pretend I didn’t care, but they all had me fucked up.
I called her.
I’d been thinking about her constantly since the park—the way she’d smiled when a trade went her way, the intelligence in her eyes, the fact that she was carrying a baby that might be mine, and I couldn’t say a goddamn word about it. My father’s warning echoed in my head every time I picked up my phone, but I couldn’t stop myself from dialing her number.
She answered on the fourth ring, her voice rough and exhausted. “Hello?”
“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual. “It’s Kaisen. Just wanted to check on you, see how you’re doing.”
There was a pause, then a weak laugh that turned into a cough. “I’ve been better.”
“You sound terrible.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly. “That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.”
“I’m serious, Truth. What’s going on?”
She sighed, and I could hear the exhaustion in it. “Morning sickness. Except it’s not just morning—it’s all day, all night. I can’t keep anything down. Crackers, ginger ale, toast, nothing works. I’m just… tired.”
