Amani sat on the armrest of Ryan's leather couch, a glass of wine in her hand but untouched. Her foot tapped against the floor in a steady rhythm, her eyes locked on Ryan, who stood by the window, his back to her.
"She's pregnant," Amani said.
Ryan turned slowly, as if he hadn't heard right. "What?"
Amani took a sip, then let the silence hang. "Chloe. I saw her at the hospital earlier today. She didn't say it outright, but she was holding her stomach like it was made of glass. Protective. Maternal."
Ryan scoffed. "That doesn't mean—"
"She was coming out of the maternity wing," Amani cut in, voice sharp. "Carrying a pamphlet. New Mother's Guide or something equally obvious."
Ryan's hands curled into fists at his sides.
Amani leaned forward, her tone softening just enough to sound dangerous. "She's carrying Damien's baby."
The words cracked something in him.
"No," he muttered. "No. She wouldn't—"
