Page 110 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 4

The gates to Winston’s estate were already open when we arrived. I didn’t slow down. I drove straight through, up the circular drive.

I was out of the car before the engine stopped ticking.

The front door was unlocked. I shoved it open and stalked through the foyer, my boots echoing on the marble.

“Winston!”

My voice carried through the house like a gunshot.

Mama appeared at the top of the stairs, her face pale and drawn. “Amai, what⁠—”

“Where is he?”

“In his study, but⁠—”

I was already moving.

The study door was closed. I didn’t knock. I kicked it open hard enough that it slammed against the interior wall, the doorknob punching a hole in the plaster.

Winston sat behind his desk, a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cigar smoldering in the ashtray beside him. He looked up slowly, and for the first time in my life, I saw what my father would look like as a corpse.

His skin was gray. His eyes were sunken. His hands trembled slightly as he set the glass down.

He looked like the walking dead.

And I felt nothing.

“Amai.” His voice was rough, like gravel scraping over broken glass. “I heard about⁠—”

“Where is he?”

Winston’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.” I crossed the room in three strides and slammed my hands down on the desk hard enough to rattle the bourbon glass. “You know something. You always know something. So, tell me where the fuck your son took my family before I tear this house apart looking for answers.”

“I don’t know where Kaisen is.” Winston’s voice was maddeningly calm. “And even if I did, rage isn’t going to find them, Amai. You need to think⁠—”

“Think?” I laughed, and it came out jagged and wrong. “You want me to think? My daughter is out there with a man who’s convinced himself he has a claim to what’s mine because you used his sperm without telling anyone. Truth is terrified because you created this nightmare. And you want me to calm down and think?”

“Kaisen believes he’s protecting them from you.”

The words hung in the air like a lit fuse.

I stared at my father, and something inside me snapped clean in half.

“What did you just say?”

“He believes⁠—”

I lunged across the desk.

My hands found Winston’s throat before he could finish the sentence. I dragged him out of his chair and slammed him against the bookshelf behind him hard enough that leather-bound volumes rained down around us.

“He’s protecting them?” I squeezed, feeling his pulse hammering against my palms. “He kidnapped my family, and you think he’s protecting them?”

Winston’s hands came up, clawing at my wrists, but he was weak. Sicker than I’d realized. His strength was nothing compared to the fury coursing through my veins.

“You did this,” I snarled, my face inches from his. “You planted the seed. You gave him the biological connection. You made him think he had a right to her—to my daughter—and now they’re gone because of you.”