Page 35 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

Winston put a hand on my arm, a silent warning to keep my temper in check.

“We just want to talk,” Winston said, his voice calm. “Five minutes. That’s all we’re asking.”

“Mr. Baptiste has made his position clear. He will not be meeting with you tonight.”

I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.

“Victor!” I shouted toward the intercom. “I know you can hear me! Get your ass out here and face us like a man!”

The intercom crackled again, and this time, the voice that came through was different.

Familiar.

Smug.

“Amai.” Victor’s voice was smooth, almost amused. “Always so dramatic.”

“You stole from us. You betrayed Winston’s trust. You cleaned out our vault and left our people dead.”

“I did what was necessary,” Victor said. “Business, Amai. Nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal?” I felt the rage building, consuming. “You took everything we had. You left us vulnerable in the middle of a war. And you think that’s not personal?”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Victor said. “You Landrys always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Winston leaned forward, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Victor. We can resolve this. Meet with us. Let’s talk like civilized men.”

Victor laughed—a cold, hollow sound that made my skin crawl.

“Civilized? Winston, you shot your own son. Don’t talk to me about being civilized.”

I felt Kaisen shift in the backseat, his presence a silent reminder that we weren’t alone in this.

“Name your terms,” Winston said. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Victor’s voice took on a mocking tone. “I want you to understand that the old order is over. The Landrys don’t run this city anymore. I do.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

“Is it?” Victor’s voice was sharp now, cutting. “You’re broke, Amai. Your vault is empty. Your right-hand man is missing. Your wife hates you. Your surrogate is running from you. And your brother—” He paused, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Well, your brother is just trying to survive.”

My eyes darted to my dad, “You just be telling him all our damn business, huh?”

Kaisen’s hand gripped the back of my seat.

“You don’t know shit about me,” he said, his voice deadly.

“I know enough,” Victor said. “I know you’re weak. I know you’re desperate. And I know you’ll do anything to get what you want.”

“Enough,” Winston said, his voice cutting through the exchange. “Victor. Meet with us. Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. Warehouse district. We’ll talk then.”

The silence stretched out, long and heavy.

Then Victor spoke again, his voice thoughtful.

“Fine. Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. Warehouse district. But come alone, Winston. Just you and Amai. No soldiers. No backup. Just the two of you.”