Page 112 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

I moved my car in front of Truth’s house and cut the engine.

Two men were already on the porch, crouched over Kaisen’s body. His security team. One of them had a medical kit open, checking vitals. The other was on the phone, his voice low and urgent.

They both looked up when I stepped out of the Bentley.

Their eyes went wide.

Recognition. Fear. Calculation.

But neither of them said a word.

They knew better.

I walked up the steps slowly, deliberately, my gaze fixed on the front door.

Kaisen was still on the ground between me and the entrance, his face pale, his breathing shallow but steady. Blood had pooled beneath him, dark and slick against the wood.

I stepped right over him.

Didn’t look down. Didn’t pause.

He was just an obstacle. Something in my way.

I reached the door, turned the handle, and stepped inside.

The door closed behind me with a soft click, muffling the sounds of the sirens and the frantic voices outside.

Inside, the house was quiet.

I moved through the small entryway, past the living room where the TV was still playing Girlfriends, and toward the back of the house.

I found her in the downstairs bathroom.

The door was open, and she stood at the sink, her hands under the running water. She was scrubbing—hard, obsessive, like she could wash away what had just happened if she just tried hard enough.

The water ran pink.

Her hands were still stained with Kaisen’s blood.

I leaned against the doorframe with my arms crossed and watched her.

She didn’t look up.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked quietly. “So we hang up on each other now?”

Her hands stilled under the water. She glanced up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her face tight with exhaustion and fear.

“What do you mean ‘what was that’?” Her voice cracked. “YOU shot your brother.”

“Was he being disrespectful?”

She stared at me, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t find the words.

Then, she turned back to the sink and kept scrubbing.

I pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the small bathroom, the space shrinking around us.

“I know my brother in ways you never will. I know what he’s capable of. What he’s willing to do. I have my reasons for doing things the way I do.”