Page 175 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

“Bathroom’s right here,” Mrs. Thibault said, opening the door to reveal a small but clean space with a tub-shower combo and a pedestal sink.

“It’s perfect,” I said, my voice quiet.

Mrs. Thibault smiled. “You like it?”

“I do.”

“Well, if you’re interested, we can go ahead and start the application process. I’ll need first month, last month, and security deposit upfront. That’s $5,550 total. And I’ll need to run a credit check and verify employment.”

My stomach tightened. “My credit isn’t great.”

Mrs. Thibault’s expression softened. “How not great?”

“I went through a divorce,” I said carefully. “My ex-husband destroyed it. I’m rebuilding.”

She studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Do you have the money for the deposit?”

“I do.”

“And can you provide proof of income?”

I hesitated. I didn’t have a job right now—I’d been focused on nursing school and the surrogacy arrangement. But I had the money Kaisen and Amai had given me, and I had the contract with Amai that outlined the surrogacy payments.

“I can provide documentation,” I said carefully. “I’m currently involved in a surrogacy arrangement. I receive payments.”

Mrs. Thibault raised an eyebrow. “A surrogacy arrangement?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright. If you can provide documentation of that income and pay the deposit upfront, I’ll waive the credit check. But I need the money today.”

“I can do that.”

Mrs. Thibault smiled. “Then let’s go back to my office and get the paperwork started.”

Two hours later, I walked out of Mrs. Thibault’s office with keys in my hand.

The house on Mimosa Ct. was mine.

Not legally mine—I was renting, not buying—but it was mine in every way that mattered. My name was on the lease. My money had secured it. My decision had made it happen.

I sat in my car in the parking lot of Mrs. Thibault’s office and stared at the keys in my palm.

I’d done it.

I’d taken control.

I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts. My thumb hovered over Amai’s name for a long moment.

Then I pressed it.

He answered on the second ring. “Truth.”

His voice was low, careful. Like he was trying to gauge my mood before he said anything else.

“I need you to meet me somewhere,” I said, my voice steady.

There was a pause. “Where?”