Page 65 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

“Are you okay?” I asked instead.

Truth exhaled slowly. “As best as I can be. Considering everything.”

I nodded. “I know. And I know this—” I gestured vaguely between us. “It was never supposed to be like this. I fucked up. Bad. But I’m not here to get into all that right now.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I just needed to see your face.”

Her expression softened, just a little. “Amai⁠—”

“Something’s wrong,” I said, cutting her off. “And I need you to know about it.”

Truth’s eyes searched mine. “What happened?”

I thought about lying. Thought about telling her everything was fine, that I had it under control, that she didn’t need to worry.

But that’s what had gotten us here in the first place.

The lies. The secrets. The walls I’d built to keep her safe—walls that had only pushed her further away.

If I wanted her to trust me, I had to trust her first.

I had to let her into my world. The real one. The dangerous one.

The one that could get her killed.

“Our family vault was robbed,” I said quietly. “All the money we had stored—gone. And we know who did it.”

Truth’s eyes widened slightly. “Who?”

“Victor Baptiste. Yahmaria’s father.”

She went still.

“We have a meeting with him tonight,” I continued. “Me, Winston, and Kaisen. We’re going to get our money back. Or we’re going to make him pay for taking it.”

“Amai.”

“I need you to understand something.” I stepped closer, my voice dropping even lower. “Yahmaria and I—we were forced to stay married. Our fathers made that decision. Both of us wanted out, but in this life, in this world, forced marriages are normal. It’s how families combine power and resources. It was on paper only. Nothing more.”

Truth’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away.

“I’m not sure how this meeting is going to go,” I admitted. “Victor’s dangerous. He’s smart. And he’s got nothing to lose. If something happens to me—if I don’t make it back—you and the babies won’t want for anything. I’ve made sure of that.”

“Stop.” Truth’s voice was sharp, cutting through the night air. “I don’t care about the money, Amai.”

I blinked. “Truth.”

“I don’t care about the money,” she repeated, her eyes fierce. “You better come out of that meeting alive. You hear me?”

Something in my chest cracked open.

She wasn’t worried about the money. She wasn’t worried about the contract or the security or any of the things I’d built to protect her.

She was worried about me.

“Come to my house when it’s over,” Truth said, her voice softer now. “I don’t care what time it is. Just come.”