Page 9 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

And I couldn’t do that to Mama.

Not after what I’d just watched her go through.

“We’re done here,” I said.

I turned and walked toward the door.

“Amai—”

“I said we’re done.”

I yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway.

Behind me, I heard him say something else—something low and sharp—but I didn’t stop to listen.

I just walked.

Down the hallway.

Past the family portraits.

Past the memories of who we used to be before everything went to shit.

Out the front door and into the humid morning air that felt like breathing through a wet towel.

My hands were shaking.

My whole body was shaking.

I got in my car and sat there for a long moment, gripping the steering wheel so hard pain shot through my knuckles.

Cornered.

That’s what I was.

Cornered between my father’s empire and the woman carrying my child.

Between the life I’d built and the life I wanted.

Between duty and desire.

And just like any cornered animal, I was about to do something dangerous.

Something destructive.

Something that would change everything.

I started the engine.

And drove away from my father’s house, knowing the next time I came back, it would be as an enemy.

Not a son.

If I couldn’t reason with my dad, maybe Victor Baptiste would understand that the marriage between me and his daughter was over. He was my next stop.

The closer I got to Victor’s house, the more rage crashed through me. I wanted out! If they wouldn’t listen to reason, then I’d take my freedom by force and blood.

The Baptiste estate sat in Metairie like a monument to old money and older grudges.