Page 223 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

This was it.

This was my child’s nursery.

And it was perfect.

I sank onto the floor, my back against the wall, and stared at the crib.

My side ached. My hands were sore from assembling furniture. My body was exhausted.

But my mind—my mind was clear.

This was mine.

Not Amai’s. Not Winston’s.

Mine.

I thought about Truth—about the way she’d looked at me when I told her the truth. The anger. The hurt. The betrayal.

But also the acknowledgment.

She’d seen me.

Not as Amai’s brother or Winston’s disappointment.

Just as Kaisen.

A man trying to be better than the legacy he’d been born into.

And this—this nursery—was proof.

Proof that I could build something. Create something. Be something.

For my child.

I pulled out my phone and opened the photo app, snapping pictures of the room. The crib. The dresser. The mobile spinning slowly above.

I wanted to send them to Truth.

Wanted to show her that I was serious. That I was ready.

But I stopped myself.

Not yet.

She needed time. Space. Answers.

And I needed to prove—through actions, not words—that I was the man she and our child deserved.

I pocketed my phone and pushed myself to my feet, wincing as my side protested.

The nursery was done.

But this was just the beginning.

Because I wasn’t going to let Amai take this from me.

I wasn’t going to let Winston control this.