Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

AMAI

The words hit me like a physical blow.

I opened my mouth to respond—to explain, to fix this, to say something—but Truth was already moving.

She slid off the examination table with a violence that made Dr. Beaumont step back instinctively.

The paper gown crinkled and tore as she yanked it off and threw it to the floor.

She grabbed her clothes from the chair and started dressing with sharp, furious movements—pulling on her jeans and her shirt, not caring that Winston and Yahmaria were watching.

"Truth—" I started.

She slapped the fuck out of me before I could finish.

“Don’t.” Her voice was low, shaking with rage. “Don’t you fucking dare say my name right now.”

She turned to face all three of us—me, Winston, and Yahmaria—and the look in her eyes was pure fire.

“You got me fucked up,” she said, her voice rising. “All three of you. You think I’m some kind of incubator you can just manage? Some pawn in whatever sick game this family is playing?”

Winston’s expression didn’t change. He stood there with that same cold smile, like he was watching a child throw a tantrum.

That only made her angrier.

“You,” she said, pointing at Winston, “orchestrated this whole thing. The appointment. The ultrasound. Bringing her—” she gestured sharply at Yahmaria, “—here to humiliate me. To remind me I’m nothing but a fucking surrogate.”

“Truth, you need to calm down,” Winston said smoothly.

“Fuck you.” The words came out sharper than a blade. “I don’t need to do shit.”

She turned to Yahmaria next, and I saw Yahmaria’s expression flicker with something that might have been fear.

“And you,” Truth continued, her voice dripping with contempt. “Standing there with your red lips and your arrogance like you have any right to be here. You knew what he was doing. You knew he was with me. And you still showed up to mark your territory.”

Yahmaria opened her mouth, but Truth cut her off.

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t give a fuck about your marriage or your arrangement or whatever bullshit excuse you’re about to give me. You’re just as complicit as they are.”

Then she turned to me.

And the look in her eyes—God, the look in her eyes—it gutted me.

“And you.” Her voice broke slightly, and I hated that I was the one who’d put that pain there. “You lied to me. You looked me in the face and told me I was yours. You made love to me. You held me while I threw up. You promised to keep me safe.”

“I am keeping you safe—”

“By lying to me?” She laughed, bitter and sharp. “By hiding the fact that you have a wife? By letting me fall for you while you were married to someone else?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, Amai?” She stepped closer, and I could see the tears threatening to spill over. “Tell me. Explain to me how any of this is okay. Explain to me how I’m supposed to trust anything you say when you’ve been lying to me from the beginning.”

I couldn’t.

There was no explanation that would make this right. No words that would undo the damage. And she knew it.

“That’s what I thought.” She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m done with all of you.”

“Truth, wait—” I moved toward her, but she held up a hand.

“Don’t. I swear to God, Amai, if you come near me right now—”

“You can’t just leave,” Winston said, his voice still calm, still meticulous. “You’re carrying Landry heirs. That makes you family, whether you like it or not.”

Truth turned to him slowly, and the smile that spread across her face was cold enough to freeze blood.

“Family?” she repeated. “You think I’m family? No. I’m a contract. And you know what? That contract Amai rigged in my favor? The one that gives me full custody and financial control if we’re not together?”

My stomach dropped.

“I’m taking full advantage of it,” she continued, her voice steady now, certain. “Because I’m done being controlled. I’m done being managed. I’m done letting any of you make decisions about my body, my life, my future.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Winston said, and for the first time, I heard something like concern in his voice.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” Her eyes were blazing. “I’m taking control. Of my life. Of my money. Of my babies.”

My babies.

Not the babies. Not your babies.

My babies.

She’d claimed them. Fully. Completely. And there wasn’t a damn thing any of us could do about it.

Truth turned toward the door, and that’s when Dr. Beaumont made the mistake of stepping into her path.

“Ms. Renois, please—we need to discuss your prenatal care plan—”

Truth didn’t hesitate.

She pulled back and punched Dr. Beaumont square in the face.

The sound was sickening—knuckles meeting bone, the sharp crack of impact. Dr. Beaumont stumbled backward, her hands flying to her nose as blood began to pour between her fingers.

“That’s for being complicit,” Truth said calmly, shaking out her hand. “For letting them use your clinic to manipulate me. For being part of this whole fucked-up operation.”

Dr. Beaumont looked at me, her eyes wide with terror and pain, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen, watching Truth walk toward the door like she was walking through fire and coming out the other side transformed.

“Truth, wait!” I finally found my voice and started after her. “Let me give you a ride. We can talk—”

She whirled on me in the hallway, and the fury in her eyes stopped me cold.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want your ride. I don’t want your explanations. I don’t want anything from you.”

“You can’t just—”

“Watch me.”

She pulled out her phone and opened the Uber app, her fingers moving quickly across the screen. I watched her request a ride—Uber Black, arriving soon.

“Truth, please.” I kept my voice low. “I know you’re angry. I know I fucked up. But you have to understand—”

“I don’t have to understand shit.” She looked up at me, and the coldness in her eyes was worse than the anger. “You made your choices, Amai. You chose to lie. You chose to hide your wife. You chose to manipulate me into falling for you while you were married to someone else.”

“I’m not in love with her—”

“I don’t care.” And the worst part was, I could tell she meant it. “I don’t care about your marriage or your feelings or your excuses. I care about me. And my babies. And getting as far away from this family as possible.”

Her phone buzzed.

“You can’t protect them alone,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. “You don’t know what’s out there. Who’s watching. Who wants to hurt you to get to me.”

“Then I’ll figure it out.” She met my eyes. “Because I’d rather face whatever’s out there than stay here and let you destroy me from the inside.”

The words hit like bullets.

I’d spent my entire life learning how to hurt people. How to break them. How to make them bend to my will.

But I never wanted to hurt her.

And somehow, I’d done it anyway.

“Truth!”

“My ride’s here.”

I looked past her and saw the black sedan pulling up to the clinic entrance. The driver was already getting out, moving to open the back door.

This was it.

She was leaving.

And I couldn’t stop her.

Truth walked past me without another word, her shoulder brushing mine as she headed for the exit. The driver held the door open, and she slid into the backseat without looking back. I stood on the sidewalk until the sedan turned the corner and disappeared, feeling something I hadn’t felt in years.

Helpless.

The rage came slowly at first—a simmer in my chest, a tightness in my jaw. But it built with every second that passed, every breath I took, until it was a roar in my ears.

I’d lost her.

I’d had her—really had her, not just her body but her trust, her vulnerability, her heart—and I’d lost her.

Because of Winston.

Because of Yahmaria.

Because of the lies I’d told myself were necessary.

I turned and walked back into the clinic, my footsteps echoing in the sterile hallway.

Winston and Yahmaria were still in the exam room, talking quietly. Dr. Beaumont was in the corner, holding a towel to her bleeding nose, her eyes red and watery. They all looked up when I entered.

“Well,” Winston said, his voice maddeningly calm. “That could have gone better.”

I stared at him.

At the man who’d orchestrated this. Who’d brought Yahmaria here. Who’d set this whole thing in motion.

“You did this,” I said quietly.

“I did what was necessary.” He straightened his cufflinks. “She needed to understand her place in this family. She needed to see the reality of the situation.”

“Her place?” I took a step forward. “You humiliated her. You brought Yaya to her prenatal appointment on some messy shit, and I’m not fucking with it.”

“She is a surrogate,” Yahmaria said. “That’s what the contract says. That’s what she agreed to.”

“She’s more than that.”

“To you, maybe.” Yahmaria’s eyes were cold. “But to this family? She’s a means to an end. And the sooner she accepts that, the better.”

I looked at Winston. Then at Yahmaria.

The rage crystallized into something piercing and focused.

They didn’t understand.

None of them understood.

Truth wasn’t just a surrogate. She wasn’t just a contract. She wasn’t just a means to an end.

She was mine.

And they’d taken her from me.

“Get out,” I said quietly.

Winston raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Get. Out.” I looked at him, then at Yahmaria, then at Dr. Beaumont. “All of you. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

“Amai—” Winston started.

“Now.”

Something in my voice must have convinced him, because Winston nodded once and gestured for Yahmaria to follow him. They left without another word, and Dr. Beaumont scurried after them, still holding the towel to her face.

I stood alone in the exam room, surrounded by the evidence of what had just happened. The torn paper gown on the floor. The ultrasound machine still displaying two heartbeats. The chair where Truth had sat, where I’d watched her face light up when she saw our babies for the first time.

Our babies.

Except they weren’t just ours anymore.

They were hers.

She’d claimed them. Taken control. Used the contract I’d rigged in her favor against me.