Page 150 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

Silence.

“And Amai did,” I added.

Saroya’s hand slid off my knee. “Hold on. Hold on, hold on. He collected the man’s DNA off his own shooting?”

“It wasn’t like I dug a bullet out of him myself,” I said. “It was just—there was a swab. It’s medical. It’s fine.”

“I know Amai did not shoot that boy for a DNA sample,” Saroya said, her voice climbing with disbelief, half a laugh buried in it despite herself. “This some wild shit, Truth.”

“I know that,” I said. “Obviously that’s not why he did it. But it happened, and I wasn’t about to let the opportunity go to waste. I needed the sample regardless. If it was gonna be an option, I was taking it.”

“You are unbelievable,” Saroya said, but she was shaking her head with something close to a smile now, the tension breaking just slightly.

“I’m resourceful,” I corrected.

“You’re pregnant with twins, two men are shooting each other in your front yard, and the one in your bed is out here collecting evidence like this is an episode of Forensic Files or Maury.”

“When you put it that way, it does sound bad.”

“It sounds insane, Truth.” Saroya leaned forward, her humor draining into something more serious, more like the big sister she’d always been, even when she wasn’t trying to. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to actually answer me. Are you okay? Being with a man like that? Living in his world? Because that’s not normal, what you just described to us. Rooftops. Guns. Blood on your porch. That’s not a relationship, Truth, that’s a war zone.”

I sat with the question for a second, because it deserved more than a reflex answer. “I grew up in the Fifth Ward,” I said finally. “Y’all know that. I’ve seen things. I know how to handle myself, how to read a room, how to survive when things get ugly. It’s not like this world is completely foreign to me. It was just—jolting. That first time. Seeing it happen right in front of me instead of hearing about it secondhand.”

“And now?” Raven asked.

“Now I know Amai’s taken every precaution he can to keep me and the babies safe. Cameras. Security. People watching things I don’t even see. It’s excessive, but it’s not careless. He’s not out here being reckless with our lives.” I paused. “He’s dangerous. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend he’s not. But he’s not dangerous to me. There’s a difference.”

Honor tilted her head. “You sure about that?”

“I’m as sure as I can be right now,” I said, and it was the most honest answer I had.

The room sat with that for a moment, all three of them looking at me like they were trying to see something underneath my skin, something they couldn’t quite get to.

“There’s one more thing,” I said before the silence could stretch too long.

“Lord,” Raven muttered. “There’s more?”

“Amai’s officially divorced.”

The reaction came instantly—Saroya’s mouth dropping open, Raven’s head snapping toward me so fast her earring swung, and Honor letting out a low, delighted “mmmm,” like she’d just been handed the last piece of gossip she needed for the week.

“Divorced,” Saroya repeated. “As in—he was married this whole time, and just now got divorced?”

“It’s finalized. That’s all I know for sure.”

“Truth.” Raven’s voice had gone careful, and I could feel the question coming before she asked it, the way you feel a storm shift the air before the rain hits. “What does that mean? For you. For y’all. I mean, he did just stand there and say he’s trying to wife you.”

I opened my mouth, and nothing came out, because I didn’t actually know how to answer that—not in a way that would make sense to anyone else, not even in a way that made sense to me. I loved him. I knew exactly what kind of danger he carried into every room he walked in. And somewhere between those two truths, I still hadn’t figured out where I was supposed to stand.

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “I really don’t.”

The knock came before I could elaborate on Raven’s question. Three sharp raps against the front door that cut clean through the kitchen chatter and made all four of us go still.

“You expecting somebody?” Saroya asked.

“No.” I was already moving, wiping my hands on a dish towel, my mind still half-tangled in the divorce conversation, still trying to figure out how I felt about any of it. “Probably Amazon.”

“Amazon don’t knock like the police,” Honor called after me.