Page 64 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

I climbed the steps and knocked twice.

The door opened almost immediately.

Delphine stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression somewhere between annoyed and amused.

“You must want that ass tased again,” she said, her voice dry.

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “No, ma’am. I don’t.”

“Then what you doing on my porch, Amai Landry?”

I met her eyes—steady, unflinching. “I’m sorry for disrespecting you and your house the last time I saw you. That wasn’t right. But I need to see Truth. It’s important.”

Delphine studied me for a long moment, her gaze sharp and assessing. She was reading me the way only a mother could—looking past the suit, past the money, past the carefully constructed armor I wore.

She was looking for the truth.

Finally, she spoke.

“You upset my baby,” she said quietly, “and I got some hot lead for your ass. You understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it, Amai. I don’t care who you are or what you got. You hurt her, and we got a problem.”

“I understand.”

She held my gaze for another beat, then stepped back and called over her shoulder.

“Truth! You got company.”

I heard footsteps, and then Truth appeared in the doorway behind her mother.

She looked tired. Beautiful, but tired. Her hair was pulled back, and she was wearing a simple T-shirt and leggings. No makeup. No pretense.

Just her.

And she was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen.

“Mama,” Truth said softly, “can I talk to him outside?”

Delphine looked between us, then nodded. “I’ll be right inside if you need me.”

She stepped back into the house, but I noticed she didn’t close the door all the way. It stayed cracked—just enough for her to hear if things went wrong.

Truth stepped out onto the porch, and I saw the small smirk tug at her lips as she glanced at the door.

“She’s listening,” Truth said quietly.

“I know.” I kept my voice low. “Your whole family probably is.”

“Probably.”

We stood there for a moment, the space between us charged with everything unsaid. I wanted to reach for her, pull her into my arms, tell her I was sorry for every lie, every mistake, every moment I’d made her feel like she didn’t matter.

But I didn’t.

Not yet.