Page 45 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

My stomach was in knots.

I couldn’t breathe right.

I started the engine and pulled out of the driveway too fast, tires screeching against the pavement.

I hit the highway doing seventy.

Then eighty.

Then ninety.

The city blurred past me—streetlights, billboards, the dark stretch of I-10 cutting through New Orleans like a scar.

My mind was racing faster than the car.

A car swerved into my lane without signaling.

I jerked the wheel hard to the right.

The car fishtailed.

For a split second, I felt the tires lose traction—felt the vehicle start to spin out.

My heart slammed into my throat.

I eased off the gas.

Corrected the wheel.

Slowly.

The car straightened out.

I exhaled hard, my hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

“Fuck.”

I forced myself to slow down.

But my mind didn’t slow down with it.

I couldn’t let myself go there.

But I was already there.

Already drowning in it.

By the time I pulled onto her street, it was 2:22 AM.

The house was dark except for a single porch light.

I parked in front and got out.

Didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t second-guess.

I walked up to the door and knocked.