Chapter 19
Damian’s POV
The glass walls of Blackwood Enterprises’ top floor reflected the Manhattan sky in sharp, endless angles. From his office, Damian could see the whole city, the arteries of traffic pulsing, the towers clawing at the blue sky, but none of it settled the restless storm in his chest.
He had spent the morning buried in contracts, snapping at assistants, dismissing calls. Yet through it all, one image clung stubbornly to his mind: the photograph tucked inside the envelope his father had given him days ago.
A young woman. Hair pulled back. Eyes wide, uncertain, almost startled, as though she hadn’t realized the photo was being taken.
Evelyn Carter.
The name was scrawled neatly across the top of her file. He didn’t know why Gregory had wanted him to see it. Didn’t know why his father’s investigators had trailed her, snapping pictures of her leaving a diner, carrying groceries, walking alone with her back hunched as if the weight of the world pressed her down.
What game was Gregory playing?
The door to his office burst open without warning. Only one man on earth would dare.
“Damian,” Gregory called, striding inside with his cane clicking against the polished floor. Reed Dawson followed, briefcase in hand, his expression a mix of irritation and amusement.
Damian leaned back in his chair, tightening his jaw. “Ever heard of knocking?”
Gregory didn’t bother answering. He sat across from his son with a deliberate calm, folding his hands untop the cane. “We need to talk.”
“I’m busy.”
“You’re never too busy for your legacy,” Gregory snapped.
Reed set his briefcase on the desk, flipping it open. “This won’t take long.”
Damian’s gaze flicked between them. “What the hell is this?”
Gregory’s voice lowered into that sharp, commanding tone that had ruled Damian’s childhood. “It’s done. The agency has secured your surrogate.”
The words landed like a blow. Damian shot to his feet. “What?”
Gregory’s eyes glinted. “Evelyn Carter. The girl in the file I gave you. She’s signed the contract. She will carry your heir.”
For a heartbeat, Damian’s world narrowed to silence. Evelyn’s face burned in his mind, not glamorous, not calculating like Vanessa, but real. Too real.
“You went behind my back,” he said, his voice dangerous.
Gregory smirked. “I went ahead of your excuses. You waste time, Damian. Time is the one luxury you don’t have. Without an heir before thirty-five, the company goes to the board. Is that what you want? Strangers dismantling my empire?”
Damian’s fists clenched. “My life is not your chessboard.”
Reed cleared his throat carefully. “Look, Damian. I get it. Nobody likes being pushed into this. But the contracts are signed. Legally binding. If you back out now, it’s not just messy. It’s catastrophic. Lawsuits. Damages. Your reputation in flames.”
Damian rounded on him. “You’re siding with him?”
“I’m siding with reality,” Reed said evenly. “Gregory moved fast. Smarter than I’d like to admit. The ink’s dry. The girl is in.”
Damian turned back to Gregory, fury vibrating under his skin. “You had your men follow her. Spy on her. Manipulate her. And now you expect me to accept it?”
Gregory’s tone was cool as steel. “I expect you to be a Blackwood. Do you think she matters? She is nothing but a means to an end. A womb for your heir. That’s all.”
Something twisted in Damian’s chest at his father’s words. He told himself it was disgust at the manipulation, at the invasion of his life yet again. But Evelyn’s eyes, wide, vulnerable, flashed in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that Gregory was wrong. That she wasn’t nothing.
Damian sank back into his chair, glaring. “I’ll meet her. But understand this, she means nothing to me. This is business. Nothing more.”
Gregory’s mouth curved into a cold smile. “Finally, sense.”
But Damian’s knuckles stayed white against the desk, and for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure if sense was what he felt at all.
Vanessa’s POV
Vanessa Hart had always known when something was slipping through her fingers. It was an instinct gotten from years of clawing her way up from nothing, of holding men’s gazes long enough to keep them hooked, long enough to take what she needed before they moved on.
And lately, Damian had been slipping.
So when his assistant told her he was “in meetings” and couldn’t be disturbed, she didn’t believe a word of it. Vanessa didn’t wait for invitations. She took what she wanted.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she strode down the corridor to his office, ignoring the receptionist’s protests. She pushed the door open, and froze.
Gregory Blackwood sat inside, cane across his lap, Reed Dawson leaning against the desk. Papers lay spread out between them.
Vanessa caught only fragments, surrogate… heir… Carter…, before Gregory’s sharp eyes flicked toward her.
“This is private,” Gregory snapped.
Vanessa plastered on a smile, though fury burned her chest. “Well, excuse me. I didn’t realize I was interrupting family time.”
Gregory rose slowly, his disdain thick enough to choke. “You always interrupt, Vanessa. You should learn when you are not wanted.”
She forced a laugh, scurrying toward Damian’s side. “Oh, come on. You two plotting world domination again? Damian, darling, don’t tell me you’re keeping secrets from me.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “Get out, Vanessa.”
Her smile faltered. “What?”
“You heard me.” His voice was ice. “This isn’t your concern.”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You don’t need them. Whatever this… surrogate nonsense is, it’s beneath you. I could give you what you want. You know I could.”
She let her hand trail down his chest, her body pressing close, the way it had always worked before. But this time, Damian didn’t move toward her.
He caught her wrist, pushing her hand away with a cold finality. “No. You never could. Not what I need.”
The rejection cut deeper than she let show. Vanessa’s eyes glittered with barely concealed rage. She smirked, masking her hurt with a smile. “Fine. Play your games. But don’t forget, Damian — games always end. And when they do, the pieces left standing aren’t always the ones you expect.”
She turned on her heel, her perfume lingering sharp in the air as she stalked out.
Gregory watched her go with contempt. “That woman will bring nothing but ruin.”
Damian didn’t answer. He was staring at the papers still sitting on his desk, his father’s words echoing: She is nothing but a womb.
But he couldn’t shake Evelyn’s eyes.
Damian’s POV
The office was quiet after Gregory and Reed left, but silence didn’t ease him. Damian sat alone at his desk, the envelope heavy in his hand.
He pulled out the photo again. Evelyn Carter.
Her profile was simple, almost laughably ordinary compared to the women who usually crossed his path. A diner waitress. Debts. No family. Nothing to gain, nothing to offer but herself.
And yet… those eyes.
They weren’t seductive, calculating eyes like Vanessa’s. They weren’t wide with ambition like the socialites who circled him. They were raw. Honest. Frightened, yes — but something else, too. A quiet strength.
Damian scowled, shoving the photo back inside the envelope. She was just a pawn in Gregory’s game. He couldn’t afford to see her as anything else.
But as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the sky, the image returned unbidden. The way she held herself, shoulders tense but head high. The way her eyes seemed to challenge even as they trembled.
For the first time in years, Damian Blackwood found himself unsettled by the eyes of a woman he had never met.
He didn’t know who Evelyn Carter really was.
He didn’t know why his father had singled her out.
But Damian knew one thing with unnerving certainty:
She was about to change everything.
Chapter 20 – The First Meeting
Evelyn’s POV
The agency no longer felt like an office building.
The first time she’d walked in, nerves had disguised everything. The gleaming marble floors, the glass walls, the warm smiles from the staff. Back then, it had felt like walking into an opportunity, a lifeline. Now, stepping through the same revolving doors, it felt like entering a cage.
The receptionist recognized her immediately and smiled. “Miss Carter. Welcome back.”
Welcome back. Two words that made her throat tighten.
Carmen walked beside her until they reached the inner corridor. She wasn’t allowed beyond that point. Her hand squeezed Evelyn’s with more strength than Evelyn thought she had. “You’ll be fine,” Carmen whispered. “Breathe, okay? He’s just a man.”
Just a man. Carmen knew that was a lie. Damian Blackwood. The kind of name whispered in headlines, connected to skyscrapers and ruthless acquisitions. He wasn’t just a man. He was an empire.
And now he would own her womb.
Evelyn forced herself forward, each step echoing off the polished floor. She wasn’t new here anymore, but the building seemed colder, the air sharper, as though it knew this wasn’t just paperwork anymore. This was real.
A coordinator opened a frosted-glass door, gesturing. “Miss Carter, right this way.”
Evelyn’s heart pounded as she stepped inside.
Dr. Allen Pierre sat at the head of a sleek table, glasses perched low on his nose, flipping through files. He looked up with a reassuring smile. “Evelyn. Good to see you again.”
Her eyes darted past him, and froze.
He was already there.
Damian Blackwood.
His eyes looked across the room and locked onto hers. It was like being struck. The photos online hadn’t prepared her. In person, he was sharper, harder. A wall of tailored suit and sculpted muscle, presence filling the space even though he sat perfectly still.
He nodded briefly in acknowledgment, not out of politeness but as if to remind her he towered over most men. “Miss Carter.”
His voice was low, smooth, and cold as steel.
Evelyn swallowed, and her throat tightened. “Mr. Blackwood.” She sank into the chair opposite him, feeling small and yet unwilling to bow her head.
For a long moment, silence hummed between them. The air-conditioning whispered. Evelyn’s pulse drowned out everything else.
Dr. Allen cleared his throat, breaking the weight. “Thank you both for coming. Today is meant to establish clarity, review the agreement, and ensure comfort on both sides before we proceed.”
Comfort? Evelyn nearly laughed. Nothing about this man radiated comfort.
She folded her hands in her lap, determined not to let them shake.
Damian’s POV
She was even more elegant in person.
Damian didn’t show it, but the sight of her unsettled him. The file hadn’t done her justice. Evelyn Carter wasn’t glamorous, not polished like the women who usually circled his world. She wasn’t even dressed for the part — plain blouse, modest skirt, hair pulled back neatly. She looked ordinary.
But her eyes…
Dark, defiant, burning with nerves and stubbornness at once. They met his without flinching, and for a brief moment, Damian felt something twist in his chest.
Unacceptable.
He leaned back, keeping his face impassive. She was a surrogate, nothing more. A means to an end. His father’s scheme may have forced his hand, but he wouldn’t let sentiment seep into this arrangement.
Dr. Allen talked about confidentiality clauses and health protocols. Damian tuned him out until his patience frayed. Finally, he raised a hand.
“Enough.”
The doctor blinked. “Mr. Blackwood?”
Damian’s eyes locked on Evelyn. “Before we waste more time, I want one thing clear.”
The girl stiffened under his gaze, but she didn’t look away.
“I will not pay this much money,” he said, tapping the folder, “to have my child conceived in some sterile lab. If I’m investing this heavily, it will be natural. No artificial insemination.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Dr. Allen looked horrified. “Mr. Blackwood, the agency does not encourage—”
“I don’t care what the agency encourages,” Damian cut in. His voice was sharp, final. “My heir will be conceived the way nature intended. That is non-negotiable.”
Evelyn’s POV
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Had she heard him right?
She pushed back from the table, anger snapping through the fear. “Excuse me?”
His expression didn’t change. “You heard me.”
Heat rushed up her neck. “I signed up to be a surrogate. Not— not to…” She broke off, unable to even say the words.
Damian’s tone was detached, almost bored. “You signed up to provide me with an heir. The method is irrelevant.”
“The method is everything,” she shot back, her voice trembling with fury. “I thought this was about helping someone have a family, not…” She stopped again, the words clogging her throat.
“Not what?” he pressed, leaning forward slightly, his gaze unflinching.
“Not prostitution!” she snapped.
The word cracked through the air.
Dr. Allen winced. Reed, Damian’s lawyer and bestfriend, shifted in his chair with something between amusement and discomfort.
Damian, however, didn’t flinch. He simply regarded her like a predator might watch prey bare its teeth.
“Call it what you like,” he said calmly. “I call it efficiency. I don’t throw millions into a procedure when there’s a simpler way.”
Her hands balled into fists. “You’re unbelievable.”
For a moment, she saw it — a flicker in his eyes. Not anger, but surprise. Then, unbelievably, amusement glinted there.
“You’re the first person in years,” he murmured, “to tell me exactly what you think.”
Her anger boiled over. “You’re an asshole.”
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Dr. Allen inhaled sharply. “Miss Carter—”
But Damian only leaned back slowly, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. Not quite a smile, but something close.
“Finally,” he said softly. “Honesty.”
Damian’s POV
She was fire.
And God help him, Damian respected it.
He’d expected compliance. Gratitude. Perhaps nervousness. But Evelyn Carter looked at him like she could see straight through the layers of ice he’d built over his life. She called him an asshole, and instead of rage, he felt a spark in his chest he couldn’t explain.
He shoved it down. She was nothing. A vessel. His father’s choice, not his.
But damn it, those eyes.
“You should think carefully,” he said at last, his voice cold again. “This arrangement benefits you far more than me. I can replace you. You cannot replace me.”
Her lips parted, ready to fight again, but she pressed them together and swallowed her anger.
Damian noticed. And he filed it away.
Evelyn’s POV
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to throw the pen in his face and storm out. But Carmen’s voice whispered again in her head: This is survival, Evelyn.
So she stayed. Silent. Annoyed.
When Dr. Allen wrapped up the meeting, her nerves were shredded. Damian rose without another glance, his height and presence swallowing the space. Reed followed.
Evelyn gathered her things with trembling hands.
And then she saw him.
Through the glass door, Gregory Blackwood stood waiting. Watching. The older man she’d seen at the Charity Event before. His eyes met hers, a knowing gleam in them. He gave the smallest nod, like she was already his pawn.
A chill rippled through her.
Damian walked out into the hallway, Reed muttering something about contracts, his father murmuring satisfaction.
He ignored them.
Because Evelyn Carter’s eyes followed him, even after the door shut.
And for the first time in years, Damian Blackwood wondered if he’d just underestimated the one person who could break him.
Chapter 21 – Fractures
Evelyn’s POV
By the time Evelyn stepped out of the agency’s glass doors, her lungs burned. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath through most of that meeting.
Her legs felt heavy, her chest tight, and every word Damian Blackwood had said still rang in her ears.
Natural.
Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t the most humiliating, arrogant thing a man could demand.
Heat rushed to her face all over again. She replayed the moment she snapped. You’re an asshole. It had slipped out before she could stop herself. She’d expected him to explode, to sneer, to throw her out.
But no.
Damian had looked almost… amused.
That unsettled her more than his demand.
Carmen was waiting across the hallway, pacing by the corridor. When she sighted Evelyn, she ran over. “Well? What happened? You look like you just wrestled a bear.”
Evelyn let out a shaky laugh that cracked halfway. “Worse. I met Damian Blackwood.”
They went into the nearest café, Carmen dragging her to a corner booth. Evelyn collapsed onto the seat, gripping the paper cup Carmen shoved into her hands.
“Well?” Carmen demanded. “Spill. Is he as terrifying as the papers say?”
Evelyn hesitated, then whispered, “He’s worse.”
Carmen’s brows shot up.
“He”, Evelyn’s voice caught. She moved closer, lowering it to a harsh whisper. “He wants the baby conceived naturally.”
Carmen nearly spit out her coffee. “He what?”
“Exactly!” Evelyn hissed, slamming the cup down. “Like it’s just some… some efficiency clause. Like I’m not even a person.”
Carmen blinked, then shook her head furiously. “No. Absolutely not. This is insane. You can’t go through with that.”
Evelyn’s throat ached. “Carmen, I don’t have a choice. The contract is already signed. My debts—”
“To hell with your debts!” Carmen snapped. “This isn’t about money anymore. This is about” She stopped herself, eyes softening. “Evie, this is your body. He doesn’t get to—”
The vibration of Evelyn’s phone cut her off. She glanced at the screen, her stomach dropping.
Agency Notification: As per contract, relocation to Mr. Blackwood’s residence will commence within the week.
Her blood ran cold. “They want me to move into his house.”
Carmen snatched the phone, reading aloud. Her stomach twisted. “Oh no. Oh, hell no. That’s how it starts. First, they own your womb, then they own your whole damn life.”
Evelyn pressed a hand to her temple, nausea curling through her. She’d thought the contract would mean hospital visits, doctor appointments, some distance. Not this.
The thought of living under the same roof as Damian Blackwood, with his gray eyes, his arrogance, his demands, it made her want to run and never stop.
But where could she go?
The debt collectors still circled like vultures. The contract was ironclad.
She whispered, more to herself than to Carmen, “I think I just signed my soul away.”
Damian’s POV
Damian poured his third glass of whiskey before realizing he hadn’t tasted the first two. The liquid burned down his throat as he swallowed it, but it didn’t drown the image haunting him.
Evelyn Carter.
The way she’d looked at him, furious, trembling but unbroken, it lingered. Most people bowed under his gaze, softened their words, scrambled to please him. But she’d spat the truth right in his face, without mincing her words.
You’re an asshole.
He should have hated it. Instead, he’d felt… alive.
Damian scowled, setting the glass down harder than necessary. He wasn’t a man who let anyone under his skin, least of all a waitress playing surrogate. She was supposed to be faceless, forgettable. A vessel.
And yet, when Gregory had talked about her like property earlier, something in Damian had bristled.
He hated that too.
Reed Dawson walked in without knocking, as usual. “Drinking this early? That bad, huh?”
Damian shot him a glare. “What do you want?”
Reed sat into the armchair across from him, loosening his tie. “Oh, nothing. Just thought I’d check on you after the big meeting.” His lips curved. “So? How was she?”
Damian’s jaw flexed. “Insolent.”
Reed smirked. “Translation: she stood up to you.”
“Translation,” Damian spat out, “she doesn’t know her place.”
Reed leaned forward. “And yet you’re brooding about her instead of ignoring her. Sounds like she got under your skin.”
Damian’s glare could’ve cut glass. “She means nothing.”
“Sure,” Reed said lightly. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Damian turned back to the window, refusing to take the bait.
But deep down, Reed was right. Evelyn Carter’s eyes had unsettled him.
And that made her dangerous.
Gregory’s POV
Gregory Blackwood stood in his study, the city lights reflecting endlessly beyond the window. His cane rested against the desk, but he didn’t need it tonight. The thrill of victory gave him strength.
He spoke into the phone, his voice low and sharp. “She signed. The agency confirmed relocation. Within the week, she’ll be under our roof.”
The voice on the other end, one of his investigators, murmured agreement.
Gregory’s lips curled. “Perfect. Once she’s inside the mansion, Damian won’t be able to resist. He’ll play his role, whether he likes it or not.”
He ended the call, staring out at the busy city.
His son thought this was about choice. But Gregory knew better. Legacies weren’t built on choice. They were built on control. On conditions.
And Evelyn Carter was the key to securing his family’s future.
Vanessa’s POV
Vanessa Hart lounged on her silk sheets, scrolling through her phone, simmering. Damian had been cold, dismissive, like she was nothing. She couldn’t stomach it.
She’d spent years perfecting her body, her allure, her image, all with Damian in mind. He was supposed to be hers. Not some nobody waitress.
She stopped scrolling when a message popped up from one of her sources.
Blackwood’s new surrogate identified. Evelyn Carter.
Vanessa’s lips curled into a predatory smile.
So the little waitress had a name.
Vanessa tapped her nails against the phone, already calculating. She’d built her empire by using information as currency. If Evelyn Carter thought she could step into Vanessa’s world unnoticed, she was dead wrong.
“No one replaces me,” Vanessa whispered into the dark.“Not now”, “Not ever.”
Evelyn’s POV
Night settled heavy over her apartment. Evelyn sat on the edge of her bed, the agency’s message glowing on her phone.
Relocation. Blackwood mansion.
She stared at the word until it blurred.
Carmen had fallen asleep on the couch, muttering something about storming the mansion with a baseball bat if Damian tried anything silly. Evelyn wished she had her friend’s confidence.
But all she felt was fear.
Not just of Damian’s arrogance, but of herself, of the strange pull she’d felt even through her fury.
She pressed her hands over her eyes, whispering, “What have I done?”
The city hummed outside her window. The world went on, indifferent.
But Evelyn Carter knew her life had shifted.
And Damian Blackwood was at the center of the storm.
Damian’s POV
Damian stood at his window, glass in hand, staring out over the city. He told himself Evelyn was just a contract. Just a means to an end.
But her voice echoed in his head.
You’re an asshole.
He smirked faintly, a small smile curving his lips, against his will.
Gregory’s voice echoed in his head, a reminder of the chains around his neck. Damian took a long drink, eyes narrowing.
If Evelyn Carter was going to be forced into his world, then she’d better be ready.
Because Damian wasn’t sure if he wanted to break her… or if he was afraid she’d break him.
Chapter 22 - Moving into the Lion's Den
Evelyn’s POV
The morning came too soon. Evelyn stood in her tiny apartment, staring at the half-packed suitcase on her bed. The walls around her looked bare now, stripped of the photos, the second-hand books, the tiny comforts that had made the place hers.
Carmen rushed in and out like a drill sergeant, shoving folded clothes into the suitcase. “You’re not packing enough. Damian Blackwood probably expects you to wear gowns at breakfast or something.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, though her chest felt tight. “I’m not dressing up for him.”
“You’re not dressing for him,” Carmen corrected, throwing a knitted sweater on top of the pile. “You’re dressing for survival. You need armor in that place, Evie. Clothes are armor.”
Evelyn managed to give a thin smile. “I don’t think even a knight’s armor would save me in that house.”
Carmen froze, hands still holding a dress. For a moment, her tough-girl mask cracked. “Are you scared?”
“Yes.” Evelyn’s voice cracked, raw and honest. “But I don’t have a choice.”
Carmen’s eyes softened. She reached out, squeezing Evelyn’s hands. “Then promise me something. Don’t let them break you. Not Gregory, not Damian, not anyone. You stay you.”
Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
The sound of tires screeching against the tarred road cut through the air. They both stiffened. Evelyn moved to the window and pushed aside the curtain.
A black car idled at the curb, sleek, polished, gleaming like a predator in the morning light. Two men in dark suits stood by it, one opening the back door as though they’d arrived for royalty.
Carmen muttered a curse. “They couldn’t even send a normal car?”
Evelyn’s stomach churned. The agency had said transportation would be arranged. But this felt less like an arrangement and more like an abduction.
She zipped the suitcase, hands trembling. “Guess this is it.”
Carmen hugged her so tightly it nearly cracked her ribs. “Text me. Every day. If they so much as look at you wrong, I’ll show up with a frying pan and a lawyer.”
Evelyn laughed shakily against her shoulder, then pulled away. She carried her suitcase down the stairs, each step echoing in her chest like a countdown.
The suited man took the bag without a word, sliding it into the trunk. He gestured toward the open door. Evelyn hesitated, casting one last look back at Carmen.
Her friend stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed, eyes fierce. “Remember who you are!” she called.
Evelyn nodded, then slid into the car.
The door closed with a solid loud thud.
Her old life vanished behind tinted glass.
The drive blurred into a haze of city streets giving way to sprawling estates. Evelyn pressed her hands against her knees, knuckles white, as the car passed wrought-iron gates and manicured lawns that belonged to another world.
When the car finally slowed, Evelyn’s breath caught.
The Blackwood estate rose like something out of a dream—or a nightmare.
A mansion sprawled across acres of land, its facade lined with marble columns and tall windows that gleamed in the sunlight. The iron gates shut behind them with a finality that sent a shiver up her spine.
It was beautiful. Imposing. A gilded cage.
The car stopped at the foot of stone steps. Evelyn stepped out, blinking against the sunlight. The air smelled faintly of roses and money. Staff bustled at the edges of the drive, discreet but efficient, as though they had been waiting for her arrival.
And then she saw him.
Gregory Blackwood descended the steps with surprising stamina for his age, his cane barely touching the ground. His suit was immaculate, his gray hair neatly combed. His eyes, icy and calculating, swept over her like she was an item he had ordered and finally received.
“Miss Carter,” Gregory said smoothly, extending a hand. “Welcome to Blackwood Manor.”
Evelyn hesitated before shaking it. His grip was firm, his smile cold.
“Your journey was pleasant, I hope?” he asked, though it sounded less like concern and more like protocol.
“Yes, thank you,” Evelyn murmured, trying not to shrink under his observing eyes.
“Good.” Gregory’s eyes flicked to the men who had driven her. “Take her things upstairs.”
They obeyed instantly. Evelyn’s stomach churned. This man didn’t ask. He commanded.
Before she could respond, another figure appeared at the top of the steps.
Damian.
He had left his penthouse to move into the Blackwood's estate.
Her chest tightened.
He looked carved from shadow and steel, his tailored suit fitting him like armor. The late morning sun shone off his gray eyes as he descended, each step deliberate, measured, and careful.
If Gregory had greeted her like an inspector, Damian greeted her like an executioner.
“Miss Carter,” he said, voice deep and controlled.
“Mr. Blackwood.” She forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her pulse hammered.
For a beat, they simply stared at each other. Something unreadable flickered across Damian’s face before he smoothed it away, his expression hardening.
Gregory’s lips curved faintly. “Shall we?”
Damian’s POV
Damian walked behind his father and Evelyn, his jaw tight.
Seeing her here, in his home, unsettled him more than it should have. He told himself it was irritation, anger at Gregory’s schemes, frustration at the agency, fury that his life was being micromanaged.
But it wasn’t just that.
It was the way Evelyn’s chin lifted in defiance, even as her hands twisted nervously at her sides. It was the faint tremble in her voice that somehow made her stronger, not weaker.
He hated that he noticed.
Gregory was in his element, rattling off facts about the estate as if Evelyn were a guest at a museum exhibit. Damian watched her eyes widen at the grand staircase, the chandeliers dripping with crystal, the oil paintings of Blackwood ancestors staring down from the walls.
She didn’t belong here.
And yet… for the slightest moment, Damian imagined her walking these halls not as a contract-bound surrogate, but as—
He shut the thought down violently and quickly.
This wasn’t about imagination. This was business.
“Your quarters are on the east wing,” Gregory was saying. “Private, spacious, overlooking the gardens. You’ll find everything you need has been provided.”
Evelyn nodded politely, though her posture screamed discomfort.
Damian’s jaw clenched. He wanted to tell her to relax, to stop acting like a trapped bird. But what good would it do? He was the cage.
Evelyn’s POV
Her quarters were larger than her entire apartment. High ceilings, silk and beautiful curtains, a balcony overlooking sprawling gardens. A four-poster bed that looked too perfect to touch.
It was everything she had never had. Everything she should have wanted.
And yet, standing in the middle of it, Evelyn had never felt so small.
A maid placed her suitcase neatly at the foot of the bed. “If you need anything, miss, press the button by the door.”
Evelyn nodded mutely, waiting until the maid left before collapsing onto the bed.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Carmen.
Are you alive?
Evelyn laughed shakily, tears pricking her eyes. She typed back: Alive. For now.
Her gaze shifted to the ornate chandelier above her, the carved crown molding, the velvet armchair in the corner. All of it screamed wealth. Power. Control.
She pressed her palms into her eyes. “What am I doing here?”
A knock startled her. She sat up quickly.
Damian stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame. His gaze swept the room, then settled on her.
“Dinner at eight,” he said. His tone left no room for argument.
Before she could reply, he turned and walked away.
Her hands trembled. She hated him. She hated his arrogance, his control.
And yet… when he looked at her, she’d felt her pulse trip over itself.
That terrified her most of all.
Evelyn’s POV
The dining room was a cathedral of glass and marble, a table long enough to seat twenty people, though only three places were set. Gregory at the head, Damian to his right, Evelyn opposite him.
Servants moved silently, laying dishes of food Evelyn couldn’t name. She barely touched her plate, her appetite smothered by the weight of the room.
Gregory raised his glass. “To the future of the Blackwood line.”
Evelyn froze, cheeks burning. Damian’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t speak.
“To legacy,” Gregory added smoothly, sipping his wine.
Evelyn forced herself to lift her glass, though her throat was tight.
She caught Damian watching her. His gaze was sharp, unreadable, burning through her like he could see the storm inside her.
She looked away quickly, but the heat lingered.
Damian’s POV
After dinner, Damian stood alone in the hall, watching Evelyn retreat to her quarters.
His father’s words rang in his ears. Future of the Blackwood line.
Damian hated the manipulation. Hated the contract. Hated the trap.
And yet, when Evelyn’s eyes had met his across the table, something had shifted. Something dangerous.
He clenched his fists, vowing to control it.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
The real danger wasn’t the contract.
It was Evelyn Carter.
And she was already inside his world.
Chapter 23 – First Day in the Cage
Evelyn’s POV
The first morning in the Blackwood mansion felt calm and magical.
Sunlight spilled across the room through the tall windows, painting golden streaks across the velvet drapes and polished floors. The air smelled faintly of roses drifting in from the gardens.
For a moment, Evelyn let herself sink fully into the soft mattress, almost forgetting where she was. Almost.
Then the knock came.
“Miss Carter,” a maid’s voice echoed through the door. “Breakfast is served.”
Evelyn dragged herself up, her hair a tangle, her throat dry. She washed up quickly, pulled on a simple blouse and jeans, clothes that looked embarrassingly plain compared to the marble-and-silk world outside her door.
When she stepped into the corridor, her footsteps echoed against high ceilings. Portraits of grim-faced Blackwood ancestors lined the walls, their eyes following her. She swallowed hard.
The dining hall was already set when she arrived. Gregory sat at the head of the table, newspaper neatly folded beside his plate. Damian sat across, coffee in hand, looking every bit the unapproachable billionaire.
Evelyn hovered at the doorway. Gregory’s eyes flicked up, sharp. “Come in, Miss Carter.”
Damian didn’t look at her.
She slid into the chair Gregory indicated. A servant placed a delicate china plate before her—fresh fruit, eggs, bread rolls that looked too pretty to eat.
“Did you sleep well?” Gregory asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she murmured.
“Good.” He sipped his coffee. “You’ll find this house runs on routine. Breakfast at eight, dinner at eight. Appointments will be coordinated through the agency. Beyond that, you’re free to… enjoy the grounds.” His smile was thin. “Within reason.”
Evelyn nodded, resisting the urge to shrink.
Finally, Damian spoke, his voice smooth and cutting. “And remember, this isn’t a holiday. You’re here for one purpose.”
Her fork froze halfway to her lips. His eyes met hers for the first time that morning, gray and cold.
Something inside her snapped. “I’m not your property,” she said quietly.
Gregory’s eyes shone with amusement, but Damian’s jaw tightened. For a moment, silence stretched across the table like a blade.
Then Damian leaned back, smirking faintly. “We’ll see.”
Evelyn forced herself to eat, though every bite tasted like ash.
Damian’s POV
She had fire.
Damian had expected Evelyn to shrink under the weight of the Blackwood mansion, under his father’s scrutiny, under his own deliberately cold demeanor. Instead, she looked him in the eye and said, “I’m not your property.”
The words had unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Reed had once told him, “You like women who don’t want you. It’s your curse.” Damian had laughed it off. But now, staring at Evelyn Carter across the breakfast table, he wondered if Reed had been right.
He watched the way she held her fork too tightly, the faint tremble in her wrist. She was terrified, but she masked it with defiance. That combination, vulnerability wrapped in steel, stirred something in him he didn’t want stirred.
He finished his coffee, ignoring Gregory’s smug expression. His father thought Evelyn was just a means to an end, a womb on contract. Damian told himself the same.
So why did he keep replaying the way her voice had cut through the silence?
Evelyn’s POV
The hours after breakfast dragged on slowly. She wandered the grounds, trying not to stare too hard at the manicured gardens, the fountains, the statues that looked older than her entire family history.
She felt like an intruder. Staff moved around her politely, always a few steps away, like shadows. She didn’t know where to sit, where to breathe.
Finally, she found herself in the library. The room smelled of leather and old paper, walls lined floor to ceiling with shelves filled with books. Evelyn trailed her fingers along the spines, exhaling slowly.
Here, at least, she felt like herself.
She picked a novel at random, curling into a velvet armchair. For a little while, she lost herself in the words, forgetting Damian, Gregory, contracts, debts.
Until she realized someone was watching her.
Her head snapped up. Damian stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, gaze unreadable.
“You like to read,” he said.
Her pulse jumped. “Yes. Is that… a problem?”
His lips twitched, almost a smile. “No.”
He stepped inside, scanning the shelves like he was seeing them for the first time. Evelyn hugged the book tighter, hating the way her heartbeat raced.
Damian’s gaze flicked back to her. “Careful, Evelyn. This house eats people alive. Don’t get too comfortable.”
And then he left, his footsteps fading into the hall.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
Vanessa’s POV
Across the city, Vanessa Hart paced her apartment, anger simmering like acid.
Her phone screen still glowed with the name: Evelyn Carter.
She’d done her research. A waitress. A nobody. Drowning in debt. And now, thanks to Gregory Blackwood’s scheming, she was living in the mansion? About to carry Damian’s heir?
Vanessa’s nails dug into her palms.
No. That was supposed to be her. She was supposed to be in that position. She had worked too hard for that.
She glanced at her vanity mirror, at the flawless reflection she had built like armor. She had worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to be replaced by a girl who didn’t even know how to play the game.
Vanessa picked up her phone. “Get me every detail on this Evelyn Carter. Family, debts, weaknesses. I want it all.”
Her contact hesitated. “Vanessa, maybe you should—”
“Do it,” she snapped. “And make it fast.”
She hung up, a slow smile curling her lips.
If Evelyn thought she could survive in the Blackwood mansion, she was dead wrong.
Vanessa would see to it personally.
Damian’s POV
That night, Damian stood on the balcony outside his study, city lights glittering in the distance. His father had retired early, smug as always, confident his plan was unfolding perfectly.
But Damian wasn’t confident.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Evelyn—her defiance, her trembling, her quiet strength. She wasn’t like the women who usually circled him, all polish and pretense. She was raw. Real. Too real.
And that made her dangerous.
He took a long drink, eyes narrowing. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not now. Not ever.
Yet the truth pressed against his chest like a weight he couldn’t ignore.
For the first time in years, Damian Blackwood wasn’t sure if he was in control.
Evelyn’s POV
Evelyn lay in her new bed, the mansion silent around her. Sleep wouldn’t come.
She turned on her side—and froze.
A shadow moved outside her window.
Her breath caught. The balcony curtains stirred as if touched by unseen fingers.
She sat up slowly, heart hammering.
The shadow lingered, then disappeared into the night.
Evelyn scrambled for her phone with shaking hands, dialing Carmen.
When her friend answered groggily, Evelyn whispered, “Someone was watching me.”
Silence. Then Carmen’s voice, sharp and clear: “Evie, lock the door. Right now.”
Evelyn did, sliding the bolt in place, her chest heaving.
But even as she curled beneath the covers, she couldn’t shake the feeling.
The Blackwood mansion wasn’t just a gilded cage.
It was a trap.
And she was already caught.
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Table of Contents
×1
Chapter 1
2_3
Chapter 2–3
4_8
Chapter 4_8
9_13
Chapter 9_13
14_18
Chapter 14_18
19_23
Chapter 19_23
24_28
Chapter 24_28
29_33
Chapter 29_33
34_38
Chapter 34_38
39_43
Chapter 39_43
44_48
Chapter 44_48
49_53
Chapter 49_53
54_58
Chapter 54_58
59_63
Chapter 59_63
64_68
Chapter 64_68
69_73
Chapter 69_73
74_78
Chapter 74_78
79_83
Chapter 79_83
84_88
Chapter 84_88
89_93
Chapter 89_93
94_98
Chapter 94_98
99_103
Chapter 99_103
104_108
Chapter 104_108
109_113
Chapter 109_113
114_118
Chapter 114_118
119_123
Chapter 119_123
124_128
Chapter 124_128
129_133
Chapter 129_133
134_138
Chapter 134_138
139_143
Chapter 139_143
144_148
Chapter 144_148
149_151
Chapter 149_151