Page 40 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

“So, you went and jumped on random dick?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Got it. That makes perfect sense.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuckyou.” I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. “I’m not doing this anymore. Sign the divorce papers willingly, or I’ll get them signed in blood. At this point, it don’t matter to me either way.”

Yaya stared at me for a long moment.

Then, she laughed.

It wasn’t a nice laugh.

“You’re a fuckingjoke,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “You sitting here acting like you’re so much better than me. Like you got it all figured out. You saw what the fuck happened at my daddy’s house. Ain’t no way out for either of us! We might as well make the best of it.”

“I do have it figured out,” I said evenly. “I figured out you’re a liability. And I don’t keep liabilities around. And I only allowed that shit at your daddy’s house because I was outnumbered. Unlike you, I got shit to lose now.”

“Oh, really?” She leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “It’s not likeyoucan have kids either, Amai!”

The air in the room shifted.

Went cold.

“Watch your mouth,” I said quietly.

“Why?” She smiled—cruel and vicious. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? When Kaisen fucked up your dick, I was willing to stay with yoursterilizedass. I didn’t leave you. I didn’t throw it in your face. Istayed.”

My hands curled into fists.

“You stayed because your daddy told you to,” I said, my voice low and lethal. “Not because you gave a fuck about me.”

“And you think I’m supposed to believe you give a fuck about me?” she shot back. “Please. You’ve been trying to divorce me from jump.”

“Because you made it impossible to stay married to you.”

“Yet here we are.” She spread her arms wide, gesturing to the room. “Still married. Still stuck with each other.”

I stood up.

Looked down at her.

“I can have kids,” I said quietly. “If I couldn’t, my surrogate wouldn’t be pregnant.”

The words landed like a bomb.

Yaya went completely still.

Her smile faltered.

Just for a second.

Then it came back—sharper, colder.

“You sure it’s yours?” she asked.

Her voice was soft.

Condescending.

Like she was planting a seed she knew would grow into something poisonous.