Page 30 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

“It’s empty.” My voice was flat, controlled. “Every dollar we had stored there is gone. The staff are dead. Someone cleaned us out.”

“What the fuck?” His fist crashed against the desk. “When did you find out?” he asked.

“Tonight. I went to check on it after Brandon called about Rahsaan planning to hit our money houses.” I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the edge of his desk. “Only four people knew about that vault, Winston. Me, Kaisen, Priest, and you.”

“And?”

“And Priest is locked up wherever the fuck you’re keeping him. Kaisen’s too smart to tell anyone—he knows what would happen if he did. Which leaves you.”

Winston picked up his glass again, swirling the bourbon slowly.

“You think I stole from my own family?”

“I think you told someone where it was.” My voice was low, dangerous. “And that someone cleaned us out.”

The silence stretched between us, thick and overpowering.

Finally, Winston sighed.

“Victor needed a place to hide some money. Federal investigators were closing in on some of his operations. He asked if I knew of a secure location—somewhere off the books, somewhere they wouldn’t think to look.”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

“You told Victor?” My voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief and rage warring for dominance. “You told Victor Baptiste where our vault was?”

“He’s family⁠—”

“He’s a snake!” I slammed my hand down on the desk, the impact sending a fresh wave of pain through my injured leg. “I warned you! I told you not to trust him! I told you he was playing his own game!”

Winston’s expression hardened. “Watch your tone.”

“Fuck my tone!” I was shouting now, all pretense of control abandoned. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? That vault had everything we needed for this war with Rahsaan! Millions of dollars in cash, weapons, resources—all of it gone because you trusted a man I explicitly told you not to trust!”

“We have other money⁠—”

“That’s not the fucking point!” I pushed away from the desk, pacing despite the agony in my leg. “That vault was strategic. It was our war chest. It was supposed to fund operations, pay soldiers, buy information. Now we’re exposed. Vulnerable. In the middle of an active threat.”

Winston stood, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor.

“Don’t lecture me about strategy, Amai. I’ve been running this family since before you were born.”

“And look where that’s gotten us!” I whirled to face him, my vision blurring at the edges from pain and fury. “Priest is off the board thanks to you. Our vault is empty. Rahsaan is making moves. And you’re sitting here drinking bourbon like none of it matters!”

“It matters,” Winston said quietly, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that used to terrify me as a child. “But losing your temper won’t fix it.”

“Neither will trusting Victor.”

“I made a judgment call⁠—”

“You made a mistake.” I limped closer, closing the distance between us. “You trusted the wrong person. And now we’re all paying for it.”

Winston’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, son.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me again?” I gestured to my leg, where blood was now visibly seeping through my pants. “You’ve already done that. What’s one more bullet?”

The study door opened before Winston could respond.

Kaisen stood in the doorway, his expression wary as he took in the scene—me bleeding and limping, Winston standing behind his desk with his hands clenched into fists, the tension so thick it was disgusting.