Page 159 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 4

He was here.

I didn’t know how many men were out there in the black water. I didn’t know if they were coming by airboat, skiff, or slipping through the marsh on foot. I didn’t know what Amai had torn apart in the city to track us down to this forgotten cut in the marsh.

All I knew was that Amai Landry did not knock, and he did not negotiate when someone took what belonged to him.

Panic flared in my chest—hot, wild, and dangerous—threatening to choke me. If bullets started tearing through these walls, Tru would be in the crosshairs. If Kaisen realized the perimeter was breached before Amai got inside, he was erratic enough to do something irreversible.

Breathe, I told myself, pressing my lips into Tru’s soft, curled hair. Control your face. Control your hands. Don’t you dare give it away.

I stepped back from the window, moved to the crib in the corner of the room, and carefully laid Trumai down on her back. I placed her favorite knitted blanket over her chest, tucked the edges firmly around her sides, and smoothed her cheek until she settled into a deep, steady sleep.

The floor groaned outside.

A key slid into the brass lock.

I turned around, let my shoulders drop, and smoothed the front of my dress, letting every trace of adrenaline drain from my eyes.

The door swung inward, and Kaisen stepped into the room.

He looked tired, but the moment his eyes landed on me, that familiar, feverish brightness returned to his face. He was dressed in a clean navy linen button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows, carrying a small porcelain tray with a mug of chamomile tea and a fresh bottle of warm water for Tru.

He closed the door behind him and slid the deadbolt home.

“She’s already asleep?” he asked softly, setting the tray down on the low coffee table.

“Just went down,” I whispered, keeping my tone hushed, maternal, weary.

Kaisen walked over to the crib, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked down at Trumai, a tender, possessive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “She has your eyelashes, Truth. Exact same curl.”

A month ago, those words would have made my throat close with disgust. Tonight, I didn’t flinch.

“Kaisen,” I said quietly, stepping toward the center of the room.

He turned, surprised by the directness in my voice. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

I wrapped my arms around myself, letting out a long, ragged exhale that wasn’t an act. The bone-deep exhaustion of the last five weeks was real. The terror, the grief over the boy we lost, the suffocating fear of living under the thumb of two terrifying brothers—none of that had to be faked.

I looked up at him, letting my eyes shine with unshed tears.

“I need to tell you something,” I murmured, staring down at my bare feet before looking back up into his eyes. “And I need you to just… listen.”

Kaisen stepped closer, his posture instantly softening. “Anything. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I was so angry at you,” I began, my voice trembling with the exact weight of a woman who had simply run out of fight. “When you brought us here… when you took my phone, when you cut us off from the city… I thought you were just trying to punish me. I thought you were doing it out of spite because of Amai.”

Kaisen opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand, stopping him.

“Let me finish,” I whispered. “I spent weeks sitting in that chair, waiting for him to come crashing through the door. Waiting for the shooting to start. Waiting for the war to show up on our doorstep like it always does.”

I swallowed hard, letting a tear slip down my cheek.

“And then we went to that clinic in town,” I continued, meeting his gaze dead-on. “We walked down the street with Tru. No bodyguards with rifles under their jackets. No cars idling at the corner, waiting for a drive-by. No packages with body parts showing up on the front porch. Just… sunlight. And a doctor who didn’t look terrified of our last name.”

Kaisen’s eyes widened slightly, a sudden, overwhelming emotion washing across his features. The validation he had been starving for—the desperate need to be seen as the hero of this twisted story—was hitting him like a drug.

“You were right,” I said, the words tasting like ash on my tongue, but delivered with total, unbroken conviction. “Amai’s world was going to get her killed. It was going to get us killed. He doesn’t know how to exist without an enemy, Kaisen. And, for months, I let myself believe that keeping his enemies away was the same thing as being safe.”

“Truth…” Kaisen breathed, taking a half-step forward, his hands shaking slightly. “You… you mean that?”