Page 11 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

How could he look me in the eyes and tell me I was different, that I mattered, that he wanted me—and then go home to his wife?

The tears kept coming, hot and relentless, and I let them. I let myself break down completely, my sobs echoing off the bathroom tiles.

I thought about the way he’d held me that night. The way he’d kissed me—slow, deep, like he was memorizing the taste of me. The way he’d moved inside me, his body pressed against mine, his voice rough and reverent.

“You’re mine, Truth. You hear me? Mine.”

And I’d believed him.

God, I’d believed him.

I’d let myself fall for him. I’d let myself imagine a future where we were together, where we raised these babies as a family, where I wasn’t just a surrogate but something more.

I’d been so stupid.

So fucking stupid.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming, wave after wave, until I felt like I was drowning.

And then I thought about Phillip.

My ex-husband. The man who’d promised to love me, to build a life with me, to be my partner.

The man who’d cheated on me with a twenty-two-year-old and moved her into our house before the divorce was even finalized.

The man who’d taken everything—the house, the car, my credit, my savings—and left me with nothing.

I thought about how powerless I’d felt. How small. How worthless.

And now, here I was again.

Another man. Another lie. Another betrayal.

Except this time, it was worse.

Because this time, I was carrying his children.

His children.

I looked down at my stomach, at the slight curve that was just beginning to show, and felt something twist inside me.

These babies weren’t just his.

They were mine too.

And I’d be damned if I let another man use my body, make decisions for me, and walk away like I didn’t matter.

The tears slowed. My breathing steadied.

And something else rose inside me.

Rage.

Pure, white-hot rage.

I thought about Amai—how he’d pursued me, manipulated me, made me feel like I was special, when really, I was just another piece on his chessboard.

I thought about Kaisen—how he’d known about the fertility clinic, known about Amai, known about the baby, and pursued me anyway. How he’d played the role of the safe, consistent man, when really, he was just as calculating as his brother.