Page 40 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

He just watched as I walked out, the weight of my words settling over both of us like a shroud.

Because we both knew the truth.

I’d just declared war on everyone.

Chapter 4

YAHMARIA

Iwoke to warmth.

Not the cold, empty expanse of Amai’s side of the bed—the side that had been vacant for weeks now—but actual human warmth pressed against my back.

Syx.

His arm was draped over my waist, his breathing slow and even against my neck. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room.

For a moment, I just lay there.

Still.

Quiet.

Pretending that this—this—was my real life and not some stolen moment in the wreckage of everything else.

But reality had a way of creeping in.

Amai hadn’t come home last night.

Again.

I’d stopped counting the nights weeks ago. Stopped pretending I cared where he was or who he was with. Our marriage had always been a transaction—my father’s arrangement, Amai’s obligation, my prison sentence.

But lately, it felt like even the pretense had dissolved.

He didn’t bother hiding it anymore. Didn’t bother coming home. Didn’t bother pretending I mattered.

And honestly? I didn’t give a fuck.

Let him chase after his little surrogate. Let him obsess over her and whatever fantasy he’d built in his head. It felt so good walking into that exam room and introducing myself as his wife. The look on that bitch face was priceless. Shit, she should’ve thanked me. She had a right to know and if Amai had his way he wouldn’t have ever told her shit. He liked keeping his shit hidden that way he can act like it didn’t stink. How else could he sit on his high horse and judge the rest of us?

I had my own escape now and I’d just fucked him in Amai’s bed.

I shifted slightly, and Syx stirred behind me.

His hand tightened on my waist, pulling me closer, and I felt him harden against my lower back.

“You awake?” His voice was rough with sleep, low and intimate in a way that made heat pool low in my belly.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, then another to the curve of my neck. His hand slid up from my waist, tracing the line of my ribs, then higher until he cupped my breast.

I arched into his touch, my breath catching.

“Syx—”