Page 56 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

“Thank you.”

“Who would you like listed as your emergency contact?”

I thought for a moment. “My mother. Delphine Renois.”

Dr. Broussard typed the information into her tablet. “Phone number?”

I rattled it off, and she entered it without hesitation.

“Done,” she said. “Is there anything else you need from me today?”

I shook my head, feeling the weight in my chest start to lift.

“Then I’ll see you back here in two weeks for your next appointment,” Dr. Broussard said, standing. “In the meantime, if you have any concerns—bleeding, cramping, anything that doesn’t feel right—you call me immediately. Day or night. And get those DNA samples to me as soon as you can.”

She handed me a card with her office number and her personal cell written on the back.

“Thank you,” I said again, my voice thick with emotion. “And I will.”

Dr. Broussard smiled. “You’re going to be okay, Ms. Renois. You and your babies.”

I left the office twenty minutes later, the late afternoon sun warm on my face.

My hands were still trembling, but it wasn’t from fear anymore.

It was from relief.

For the first time since I’d signed that contract, the pregnancy felt like mine.

Not Amai’s. Not Kaisen’s. Not Winston’s.

Mine.

I slid into my car and sat there for a long moment, staring at the ultrasound photos Dr. Broussard had printed for me.

Two tiny shapes. Two heartbeats.

My babies.

I pressed the photos to my chest and let the tears come.

Because for the first time in weeks, I felt like I had control.

And no one—no one—was going to take that away from me.

I had one more stop to make before I could go home.

The drive to Loyola University took twenty minutes through midday traffic, and I spent most of it trying to calm my racing heart. The ultrasound photos sat on the passenger seat, face down, like I was protecting them from invisible eyes.

You’re being paranoid.

But paranoia felt justified when your life had turned into a war zone in less than two months.

I pulled into the campus parking lot and found a spot near the student services building. The lot was half-empty—most students were either in class or had already left for the day.

I grabbed my purse and the folder with my financial aid paperwork, then stepped out into the humid afternoon air.

That’s when I noticed it.