Page 5 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

I set the medications on the nightstand.

Dad looked up at me, and for just a second, I saw something in his eyes I’d never seen before.

Fear.

Raw, unfiltered fear.

“Water,” he said.

I went back to the bathroom, filled a glass, and brought it to him.

He helped Mama sit up—slow, careful, supporting her weight—and held the pills to her lips one at a time. She swallowed them with small sips of water, wincing with each movement.

“Good,” Winston said. “That’s good, baby.”

He eased her back onto the pillows.

I stood there watching them—this man who’d built an empire on violence and fear, who’d taught me that weakness was death and mercy was a liability, who’d never shown me a moment of the tenderness he was showing her now.

He smoothed the hair back from her forehead.

Pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Rest now,” he said. “The medicine will kick in soon.”

“Don’t leave.” Her hand tightened on his. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He settled onto the bed beside her, still holding her hand, and started humming something low and soft—a song I remembered from childhood, something she used to sing to us when we were scared or hurt or couldn’t sleep.

Mama’s breathing started to slow.

The trembling eased.

Her eyes drifted closed.

I watched the tension drain from her body bit by bit as the medication took hold, watched the lines of pain in her face smooth out, watched her finally—finally—relax into something that looked like peace.

It took twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes of him sitting there beside her, humming that song, holding her hand like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

Maybe it was.

When her breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep, he finally looked at me.

“Office,” he said quietly. “Now.”

The walk back downstairs was silent.

Different than before.

Heavier.

He led me into his office—dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a desk he’d ordered from Italy. He closed the door behind us and moved to the bar cart in the corner.

Poured two fingers of bourbon into a crystal tumbler.