Page 53 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

I set my purse down on the counter with a sharpthud.

Layla turned, spatula in hand, and her expression shifted the moment she saw me.

“Oh,” she said flatly. “You’re back.”

“I am.” I crossed my arms. “And we need to talk about your uniform.”

She blinked. “My what?”

“The uniform I provided when I hired you,” I said, my voice cold and clipped. “You need to start wearing it. Or you won’t have a job.”

Layla stared at me for a long moment.

Then she laughed.

“Girl, I don’t work foryou,” she said, turning back to the stove. “I work for Amai.”

“My name is still on the deed to this house,” I shot back.

Layla glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

“That’s a damn lie,” she said. “Amai had this house way before you. You just mad you can’t kick me out.”

My jaw clenched.

“Either way,” I said, my voice shaking now, “I’m back. And clearly, it’s for the best.”

Layla turned fully to face me, spatula still in hand, her expression hard.

“You need to fuck off,” she said slowly, deliberately, “before you get your ass beat.”

Then she turned back to the stove.

Dismissed me.

Like I wasnothing.

Something inside me snapped. Too many people were playing in my damn face, and she’d be the last one today.

I didn’t think.

Didn’t plan.

I just moved.

My hand closed around the handle of the cast-iron skillet on the counter—the one Layla had been using earlier, still warm from the stove.

I lifted it.

And swung.

The sound it made when it connected with the back of Layla’s head was sickening.

A dull, wetthudthat echoed in the kitchen.

Layla dropped like a stone.

The spatula clattered to the floor. Her body crumpled, hitting the tile hard, her locs spilling around her face.