Page 99 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

The nursery door was open.

I stepped inside and flipped on the light.

The room was perfect.

Everything in its place. Everything ready.

I stood in the center of the room, my chest heaving, my vision blurring at the edges.

This was mine.

This was my kids’ room. My family’s future.

I could see it so clearly—Truth sitting in the rocking chair by the window, holding our twins. Smiling at me. Safe. Happy. Mine.

We’d have breakfast together every morning. I’d make her coffee the way she liked it. She’d laugh at my jokes. We’d take the baby to the park on weekends.

Normal. Stable. Real.

Everything Amai couldn’t give her.

Everything she deserved.

“I can give her that,” I whispered. “I can give her everything.”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

But the image shifted.

Amai’s face appeared in the fantasy, his hand on Truth’s shoulder, his voice in her ear, his presence poisoning everything I’d built.

“No,” I said aloud. “No, he doesn’t get to⁠—”

I spun around, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“She chose him because she doesn’t know any better. Because he got to her first. Because he lied and manipulated and⁠—”

I stopped.

The truth was there, buried beneath the rage and desperation clawing its way to the surface.

I didn’t want Truth because I loved her.

I wanted her because Amai wanted her.

I wanted her because Winston said we’d never have this—love, family, normalcy.

I wanted her because she was proof that I could have what my father said was impossible.

The realization should have stopped me.

It didn’t.

“So what?” I said, my voice rising. “So, fucking what? I want her. That’s enough. That’s real.”

I turned back to the nursery, my eyes scanning the crib, the changing table, the carefully folded clothes.

“I built this for her. For us. That means something.”