Page 123 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

“Account numbers.”

“I don’t—I don’t have them memorized⁠—”

Amai pulled the second nail.

Duke screamed again, his voice breaking, and I felt bile rise in my throat.

“You’re lying,” Amai said calmly. “You’ve been moving seven figures a month. You know the numbers.”

“I—I⁠—”

“Say them.”

And Duke did.

He said everything.

The account numbers. The routing codes. The names of the shell companies Victor used to hide the money.

He said it all between sobs and screams and pleas for mercy.

And Amai wrote it down.

Every. Single. Word.

When he finally ran out of information, Amai set the pliers down and looked at him.

“See?” he said softly. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Duke was crying, his face twisted in agony, blood dripping from his ruined hand.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please—I told you everything—just let me go⁠—”

Amai picked up the knife.

“I know you did,” he said.

And then he slit Duke’s throat.

The blood came fast—too fast—spraying across the floor, across Amai’s shirt, across my shoes.

I stumbled backward, my hand over my mouth, trying not to vomit.

Amai wiped the blade on Duke’s pants and set it back on the table.

Then, he looked at me.

“You understand now?” he asked.

I couldn’t speak.

“Everyone breaks, Syx. Everyone. It’s just a matter of how much pressure you apply.”

He walked past me toward the door.

“Clean this up,” he said. “And don’t forget what you saw here.”

The door closed behind him.