Page 222 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

I drove home with the windows down, the late afternoon sun warming my face, and for the first time in weeks, I felt something other than rage or desperation.

I feltpurpose.

My house was quiet when I arrived. I lived alone in a modern two-story in Lakeview—clean lines, open floor plan, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water.

It was a bachelor’s house. Sleek and minimalist and empty.

But not for long.

I parked in the driveway and started unloading. My side screamed in protest with every box I lifted, but I ignored it.

Pain was temporary.

This—this was forever.

I carried everything inside, stacking boxes in the hallway outside the guest bedroom on the second floor. The room was small but bright, with large windows that let in natural light and a view of the oak trees in the backyard.

Perfect.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, envisioning what it would look like. The crib against the far wall. The dresser next to the window. The changing table in the corner.

My child’s room.

My child’shome.

I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

Assembling the crib took over an hour. The instructions were detailed but confusing, and I had to backtrack twice when I realized I’d put pieces in the wrong order.

But I didn’t stop.

I tightened every screw. Checked every joint. Made sure the mattress support was secure and level.

This crib was going to hold my child. It had to be perfect.

When I finally stepped back and looked at the finished product, I beamed with pride.

It was real.

Solid. Sturdy. Safe.

I moved on to the dresser next, assembling it piece by piece, my hands moving with methodical precision. The drawers slid smoothly on their tracks. The changing topper fit perfectly on top.

I filled the drawers with the clothes I’d bought—tiny onesies folded neatly, soft sleepers stacked by size, socks so small they looked like doll clothes.

I hung the mobile above the crib and wound it up, watching the stars and moons spin slowly as the lullaby played.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star…

My throat tightened.

I placed the plush animals on the dresser—a gray elephant, a white bunny, a soft giraffe. I arranged the diapers and wipes on the changing table. I folded the blankets and placed them in a wicker basket next to the crib.

Everything had a place.

Everything was ready.

I stood in the center of the room, my hands on my hips, and looked around.