Page 129 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

Rahsaan held my gaze, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes.

Not fear.

But recognition.

He knew I was right.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

“So, what do you want me to do?” he asked finally, his tone mocking. “Apologize? Take it back? Send Amai a fruit basket and hope he forgives me? Man, fuck that nigga!”

“I want you to stop being arrogant,” I said quietly. “Because arrogance is how niggas die. And I’m not dying because you have this vendetta with Amai Landry.”

The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive.

An infinitesimal twitch in his lips told me I’d hit the mark.

Then, he picked up his glass and drained the rest of his bourbon in one swallow.

“Fine,” he said, setting the glass down hard enough to make it crack. “What’s the plan?”

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think past the anger.

“We move fast,” I said. “We hit them before they can regroup. Amai’s distracted by that woman—Truth. Winston’s recovering from a gunshot wound. Kaisen’s still trying to figure out where he stands. We use that.”

“And Yahmaria?”

I felt my chest tighten at the mention of my daughter’s name.

“She’s leverage,” I said, my voice flat. “If Amai has her, we use that to our advantage. Make him think we’re willing to trade. Stall. Buy time.”

“And if he kills her?”

The question hung in the air between us, cold and brutal.

I didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, I didn’t know.

Yahmaria was aware that sacrifices came with being a Baptiste. She understood the risks and that she just may end up being a casualty of war.

I couldn’t save her.

Not without risking everything.

Rahsaan watched me, his expression unreadable.

“You’re willing to sacrifice your own daughter?”

“I’m willing to survive,” I said quietly. “And if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”

Rahsaan’s smile returned—slow, cold, dangerous.

“Then let’s make sure the Landrys don’t.”

I nodded, but as I turned to leave, a thought settled in the back of my mind.

Heavy.