Page 108 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

“Yeah?”

“Be careful with her,” Priest said. “She’s not built for this world.”

“No,” I agreed. “She’s not. But she’s going to survive it anyway. Because I won’t let her do anything else.”

“Is everything okay?”

Truth emerged onto the patio wrapped in one of my robes. Her hair was wet and dark against her shoulders. She looked exhausted. Fragile. Like she might break if I breathed too hard in her direction.

But I’d seen her fight.

I’d seen her stand.

I’d seen her refuse to flinch.

She wasn’t fragile.

She was just scared.

And I could work with that.

I could work with anything as long as it meant keeping her.

“Everything is fine. This is Priest. You will have time to get to know him. He’s the only person I trust with my life,” I said.

“What about mine?” Truth asked.

“I’m the only one I trust with your life but he’s a close second.”

“Nice to meet you.” Priest extended his hand.

“You as well.” Truth forced a smile.

“Well, I have to get back. Amai, let me know if either of you need anything else.”

“I will.”

Priest saw himself off, leaving me and Truth alone. We hadn’t truly been alone before.

Truth moved across the patio with careful steps, like she was testing the ground beneath her feet. My robe—the one I’d left hanging in the bathroom—draped around her full frame, sleeves rolled up twice, hem pooling at her ankles. She looked swallowed by it. Fragile in a way that made you want to sacrifice anything to keep her from breaking.

She took the seat beside me. Not across from me.Besideme.

Close enough that I could smell the faint scent of my soap on her skin.

“What now?”

Two words. Simple. But loaded with everything—the baby, the sperm revelation, Kaisen bleeding out in that clinic, Victor’s words still burning in my memory, my father’s silent judgment, the fact that she was here, in my space, wearing my clothes, carrying a child that might be my brother’s.

I turned my head to look at her. Really look at her.

The moonlight caught the exhaustion in her face—shadows under her eyes, tension in her jaw. But her gaze was steady. She wasn’t crying. Wasn’t falling apart. She wasasking. Planning. Trying to understand the shape of what came next.

That’s what I’d seen in her file but hadn’t fully understood until now. Truth Renois didn’t break. She bent, she survived, she strategized.She could do hard things.

“Now,” I said, voice low and even, “you call your mother.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “My mother?”