TRUTH #2
“About the twins?” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “About Winston walking in with Amai’s wife? About me finding out in front of a room full of people that the man I’ve been sleeping with has been married this entire time?”
Kaisen was silent.
“Yeah,” I continued, my voice rising. “I’m sure you heard all about it. The question is—why didn’t you tell me before it happened?”
“Truth—”
“You knew.” My voice cracked, and I hated that it did. I hated that even now, even after everything, I could still feel the sting of betrayal. “You knew Amai was married, and you didn’t say a word.”
“It wasn’t my business to tell,” Kaisen said, and I could hear the defensiveness creeping into his tone.
“Bullshit.”
The word came out hard, final, and I heard him exhale on the other end of the line.
“It wasn’t my place—”
“Don’t give me that,” I snapped. “You’ve been in my ear for weeks, Kaisen.
Telling me Amai isn’t what he seems. Telling me he’s dangerous.
Telling me I need to be careful around him.
You’ve been talking down on your brother every chance you get, painting yourself as the good guy, the safe option, the one who actually gives a damn about me. ”
“I do give a damn about you—”
“Then why didn’t you warn me?” My voice broke, and I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing.
“If you really cared about me, Kaisen, you would’ve told me.
You would’ve pulled me aside and said, ‘Hey, Truth, just so you know—Amai’s married.
You’re walking into a mess.’ But you didn’t.
You let me find out at that clinic, in front of his wife, in front of his father, in front of a doctor who’s probably been complicit in this whole nightmare from the start. ”
“I didn’t know Winston was going to do that,” Kaisen said, his voice tight. “I didn’t know he was going to bring Yahmaria to the clinic. If I had—”
“You still wouldn’t have told me.” I stood up, pacing the room, the towel slipping slightly, but I didn’t care. “Because telling me would’ve meant losing your advantage. It would’ve meant I’d see you for what you really are.”
“And what’s that?”
“No better than your brother.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
I could hear Kaisen breathing on the other end of the line, slow and controlled, like he was trying to keep himself from exploding.
“That’s not fair,” he said finally.
“Fair?” I laughed again, bitter and raw.
“You want to talk about fair? You think any of this is fair, Kaisen? You think it’s fair that I was used as an incubator without my knowledge?
That two men’s sperm was used in my body without my consent?
That I’ve been lied to, manipulated, and controlled by an entire family who sees me as nothing more than a vessel for their legacy? ”
“I never saw you that way—”
“But you didn’t stop it either.” My voice was steady now, cold.
“You knew what was happening. You knew about the fertility clinic. You knew about the sperm swap. And instead of being honest with me, you played your own game. You positioned yourself as the alternative. The safe choice. The man who’d treat me better than Amai ever could. ”
“I would treat you better—”
“By lying to me?” I shot back. “By keeping secrets? By letting me walk into a trap because it served your agenda? You’re no better than Amai!”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like, Kaisen?” I demanded. “Explain it to me. Make it make sense. Because from where I’m standing, you’re just as manipulative as Amai. You’re just better at hiding it.”
He was quiet for a long moment, and I could hear the tension in his breathing.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew it would hurt you,” he said finally, his voice low. “I knew if you found out Amai was married, you’d pull away from him. And I thought—I thought if you pulled away from him, you’d come to me.”
“So, you used my pain as a strategy.”
“No—”
“Yes.” My voice was firm, unyielding. “That’s exactly what you did. You saw an opportunity to position yourself as the better option, and you took it. You didn’t care that I was being lied to. You didn’t care that I was being used. You cared about winning.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” I challenged. “You’ve been competing with Amai your entire life, Kaisen. And now you’re competing for me. But I’m not a prize. I’m not something you win. I’m a person. And I deserve better than this.”
“I know you do,” Kaisen said, and for the first time, his voice softened. “I know you deserve better. That’s why I—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off, my voice breaking.
“Don’t try to make this about caring for me.
If you cared, you would’ve been honest. You would’ve told me the truth, even if it hurt.
Even if it meant I’d choose Amai over you.
But you didn’t. You played the game just like he did. You just played it differently.”
“Truth—”
“I’m done, Kaisen.” The words came out steady, final. “I’m done with you. I’m done with Amai. I’m done with your entire family making decisions about my body, my life, my future. I’m taking control now. And that means you stay away from me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” My voice was ice. “Stay away from me and my children. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want you anywhere near me or my babies.”
“Truth, please—”
“I said stay away.”
“They’re my children too—”
“Are they?” I shot back. “Because last I checked, I don’t even know whose babies I’m carrying. And until I do, you don’t get to claim them. You don’t get to act like you have rights to them when you’ve been lying to me from the start.”
“I never lied to you.”
“You lied by omission,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “And that’s just as bad. Maybe worse. Because you made me think you were different. You made me think you were safe. And you’re not. You’re just another Landry man who thinks he can control me.”
“I don’t want to control you—”
“Then respect my decision.” My voice was firm, unyielding. “Stay away from me, Kaisen. I mean it.”
“Truth—”
I hung up.
My hand was shaking as I lowered the phone, my chest heaving, my vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall.
I stood there in the middle of my bedroom, wrapped in a towel, my hair still damp, my body still trembling from the confrontation.
But I didn’t feel weak.
I felt powerful.
Because, for the first time in weeks—maybe months—I’d drawn a line.
I’d told a man no.
I’d refused to be manipulated, controlled, or played.
And it felt good.
It felt like freedom.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and walked to my dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. I dressed slowly, deliberately, feeling the fabric settle against my skin like armor.
I wasn’t the same woman I’d been this morning.
I wasn’t the woman who’d walked into that clinic expecting a routine ultrasound.
I was someone new.
Someone stronger.
Someone who knew her worth.
And I wasn’t going to let anyone—not Amai, not Kaisen, not Winston, not anyone—take that away from me.
I walked to the window and looked out at the quiet street, at the houses lit up with warm light, at the world continuing on like nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
For me, at least.
I placed my hand on my stomach, feeling the slight curve where my babies were growing.
“It’s just us now,” I whispered. “Y’all and me. And I’m going to protect y’all. No matter what.”
I didn’t know what came next.
I didn’t know how I was going to navigate the mess I’d found myself in.
But I knew one thing for certain.
I was done being a victim.
I was done being controlled.
I was done letting men make decisions for me.
From now on, I was in charge.
And anyone who didn’t like it could stay the hell away.
My phone buzzed again on the bed—Raven’s name flashing across the screen for the third time in ten minutes.
I stared at it, my jaw tight, and let it go to voicemail.
Then Saroya called.
Then Mama.
I silenced each one without answering.
I loved them. God, I loved them. But I couldn’t talk to them yet. Not until I had a plan. Not until I knew what my next move was.
Because if I called them back now—if I let them hear the tremor in my voice, the exhaustion, the heartbreak—they’d try to fix it. They’d try to protect me. And I needed to protect myself first.
I needed to be strategic.
I needed to be smart.
I sat down on the edge of my bed and opened my laptop, my fingers moving across the keyboard with purpose.
Best OBGYN New Orleans high-risk pregnancy.
The search results loaded, and I scrolled through them methodically, reading reviews, checking credentials, looking for someone who wasn’t connected to the Landry family in any way as far as I could tell anyway.
Someone who wouldn’t report back to Winston.
Someone who wouldn’t be influenced by Amai’s money or his name.
Someone who would put me first.
I found her on the third page of results.
Dr. Camille Broussard, MD
Specializing in High-Risk Obstetrics and Maternal-Fetal Medicine
Tulane Medical Center
The reviews were glowing. Patients praised her thoroughness, her compassion, her refusal to be intimidated by complicated cases. One review stood out:
“Dr. Broussard saved my life and my baby’s life when every other doctor told me it was hopeless. She doesn’t give up. She fights for you.”
That was what I needed.
Someone who would fight for me.
I clicked on the contact number and dialed before I could second-guess myself.
The phone rang twice before a professional, warm voice answered.
“Tulane Maternal-Fetal Medicine, this is Celeste. How can I help you?”
“Hi,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “I need to schedule an appointment with Dr. Broussard. It’s urgent.”
“Of course. Can I get your name and date of birth?”
“Truth Renois. February 28th, 1999.”
I heard the soft click of keys as she typed. “And what’s the reason for your visit today, Ms. Renois?”