Page 121 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

Kaisen would wake up in the dark. He’d realize he couldn’t stand. Couldn’t stretch out. Couldn’t escape. He’d scream, maybe. Pound on the walls. Beg.

And no one would hear him.

I’d come back when I was ready. When I’d decided what came next. When I’d figured out how to protect Truth and the baby from the fallout of what I’d done.

But, for now, Kaisen could sit in the dark and think about what he’d taken.

What he’d tried to take.

What he’d never have.

I turned and walked back down the trail, my boots crunching against the dirt, the clearing disappearing behind me into the darkness.

Some violations didn’t have expiration dates.

Some violations were permanent.

And some men needed to be reminded—in the dark, in the silence, in the suffocating weight of their own mistakes—that there were things in this world you didn’t touch.

Truth was one of them.

The convenience store sat at the edge of the highway, fluorescent lights buzzing against the darkness. It was one of those 24-hour places that smelled like burnt coffee and cleaning solution, the kind where the cashier didn’t look up when you walked in because they’d seen worse than whatever you were carrying.

I parked under the overhang and killed the engine. The clock on the dashboard read 3:47 AM. I’d been gone for two hours and sixteen minutes.

Long enough for Truth to wake up. Long enough for her to wonder.

I sat there for a moment, hands still on the steering wheel, and let the silence settle over me. The drive back from the clearing had been mechanical—turn left at the fork, follow the gravel road to the highway, merge onto the main route. My mind had been blank. Clean. Empty of everything except the hum of the engine and the white lines disappearing beneath the headlights.

That’s how I survived this life. Compartmentalization. The ability to seal one part of myself away so completely that it didn’t bleed into the rest. What I’d done to Kaisen—the concrete hole, the steel lid, the suffocating darkness—that was locked away now. Filed under necessary. Under protection. Under consequences.

I didn’t feel guilt. I didn’t feel satisfaction either.

I just felt done.

Now I needed to be someone else. The man who went to get snacks because his woman was hungry and Priest had only stocked the lakehouse with quinoa and kale.

I got out of the car and walked into the store.

The cashier was a kid, maybe twenty, scrolling through his phone behind the counter. He glanced up, registered my presence, and went back to his screen. Good. I didn’t need conversation.

I moved through the aisles slowly, deliberately, picking up items and setting them in the basket I’d grabbed by the door. Doritos. Cool Ranch. The kind Truth had mentioned once in passing when I’d asked what she liked to eat. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. A bag of sour gummy worms. A box of Cheez-Its. Two bottles of Fiji water. A pack of Oreos.

Then I doubled back and grabbed the healthy shit too. A bag of trail mix. Some granola bars. A container of mixed fruit. Balance. Believability.

The lie had to be airtight.

I paid cash, didn’t make eye contact, and walked back out into the humid night air. The bag crinkled in my hand as I tossed it into the passenger seat and started the engine.

The drive back to the lakehouse took thirty-eight minutes. I knew because I counted every one of them.

The highway was empty except for the occasional semi-truck barreling past in the opposite direction, their headlights cutting through the darkness like searchlights. I kept my speed steady, my hands loose on the wheel, my mind focused on the story I was about to tell.

I went to get snacks. Priest only left healthy food. I wanted you to have options.

Simple. Reasonable. Thoughtful, even.

The kind of thing a man did for a woman he cared about.