Page 199 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

A threat I couldn’t see yet. A game I didn’t fully control.

But I would.

Because that’s what I did. I took chaos, and I bent it to my will. I took threats, and I eliminated them. I took vulnerability and turned it into armor.

And whoever had Priest—whoever thought they could use him as leverage against me—was about to discover that some lessons had to be learned in blood.

I thought about Truth, asleep at the lakehouse, safe and protected and mine.

And I thought about what I was willing to do—what I was willing to destroy—to keep them both.

The answer was simple.

Everything.

I’d burn it all down if I had to.

And I wouldn’t lose a single night’s sleep over it.

The family estate looked the same as it always did—imposing, pristine, a monument to Winston’s power and control. The wrought-iron gates stood open, as if he’d been expecting me. As if he knew I’d come.

Of course he knew.

Winston always knew.

I pulled up the circular driveway and killed the engine. My hands were steady on the steering wheel, but my mind was racing through scenarios, contingencies, ways this could go. None of them ended well. But I was past the point of caring about outcomes. I needed answers. I needed Priest back.

And I needed Winston to understand that I wasn’t the same man who’d left this house years ago, desperate to escape his shadow.

I stepped out of the car and walked toward the front door. It opened before I could reach it.

Winston stood in the doorway, backlit by the chandelier in the foyer. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. He looked like a man who’d been waiting for an appointment he knew would arrive on time.

“Amai,” he said, his voice smooth. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

I didn’t respond. I walked past him into the house, my footsteps echoing on the marble floor. The familiar scent ofexpensive cologne and old money filled the air. Everything about this place was designed to remind you of your place in the hierarchy.

I turned to face him as he closed the door behind me.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Before we get to that,” he said, his voice dropping to something colder, “let’s talk about what you did to your brother.”

I felt my jaw tighten. “What I did to Kaisen is between me and him.”

“No.” Winston took a sip of his bourbon, savoring it. “What you did to Kaisen is family business. And it’s fucked up that you were going to kill your brother over a bitch you just met.”

The word landed like a slap.

My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

Winston’s eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the air between us crackled with tension. Then he smiled—cold, humorless, dangerous.

“I ain’t watching shit,” he said quietly. “And what about it?”

He set his glass down on the table with a softclinkand took a step toward me.

“Niggas in the street scared of you, but I ain’t,” he continued, his voice steady and controlled. “Nothing that came out of my nutsack puts fear in my heart, Amai. You need to remember that.”