I turned the glass in my hand. Watched the amber liquid catch the dying light.
“They all pay,” I said simply.
Another beat of silence.
Then, “What happened?”
I set the glass on the small table beside me.
Carefully.
Because if I didn’t move carefully right now, I was going to break something.
Or someone.
“The baby might not be mine,” I said.
The words came out calm. Detached.
Like I was discussing a business transaction instead of the thing that had ripped my chest open and left me bleeding.
Priest went still. “What?”
“Winston had Dr. Beaumont use both our sperm,” I continued, my voice never changing. “Mine and Kaisen’s. As backup.”
“What type of sick shit they got going on?” Priest’s voice was low, dangerous.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“They didn’t even wait,” I said. “Didn’t wait to see if my sperm would work. Didn’t give me a chance to prove I could do this one fucking thing right.”
I picked up the glass again.
Stared at it.
“They just assumed I wasn’t enough,” I said quietly. “Assumed I’d fail. So they made a contingency plan. Used my brother as insurance. Like I was a bad investment they needed to hedge against.”
The glass felt fragile in my hand.
Breakable.
“There was no faith,” I continued. “No trust. Just Winston covering his bases because he knew—heknew—his broken son couldn’t deliver.”
I set the glass down again.
This time, I wasn’t careful.
It hit the table hard enough to crack. “And it was easy considering every Landry man’s sperm is stored there.”
Bourbon spilled across the wood.
I didn’t move to clean it up.
“Kaisen knew,” I said. “He had to know. Winston would’ve been arrogant enough to tell him. Which means my brother looked me in the eye for weeks—weeks—and said nothing.”
Priest was quiet for a long moment.