Chapter 24
Evelyn’s POV
Evelyn didn’t sleep that night.
She lay awake in the huge bed, her heart pounding hard against her chest long after the shadow had disappeared from the balcony. Every creak of the house, every brush of wind against the glass sent her heart racing.
By the time dawn broke, her body ached with exhaustion.
She moved mechanically through her routines, shower, clothes, brushing her hair into a neat ponytail. She tried to convince herself it had been nothing. Just her nerves. Just the size of the house.
But when she opened her door, a man stood in the hallway.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in black.
Her breath hitched.
The man inclined his head, expression neutral. “Miss Carter. I’m part of Mr. Blackwood’s security team. For your protection.”
Her protection.
Evelyn forced herself to nod, though her stomach twisted. “So it was you. Last night. Watching my window?”
The guard didn’t blink. “We ensure all residents are safe.”
Safe. The word felt hollow.
She walked past him, spine stiff. Safe was not what she felt. Safe was not what this mansion gave her.
Damian’s POV
Damian watched from the balcony as Evelyn crossed the gardens later that morning, her hair catching the light.
He’d seen the report from security about “an incident” near her quarters. A shadow sighting. Gregory had brushed it off as over-caution, but Damian knew his father too well.
Surveillance was Gregory’s favorite weapon.
Damian gripped the railing, anger tightening his chest. Evelyn didn’t know it, but she was being tested, measured, weighed, observed. Just another pawn in Gregory’s game.
But something about the image of her clutching her phone in fear made his throat burn.
He wanted to storm into his father’s office, to demand he leave her alone. But he didn’t.
Because Gregory would see through him.
Because Gregory would know Evelyn mattered.
And Damian couldn’t afford to give his father that kind of weapon.
Not yet.
Evelyn's POV
By midday, Evelyn sought refuge in the gardens. Sunlight warmed her face, the air heavy with roses and trimmed hedges. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe.
But she wasn’t alone.
Gregory appeared, cane tapping against the path. His eyes crinkled in a smile that didn’t reach his voice. “Miss Carter. Adjusting well, I trust?”
Evelyn straightened. “It’s, an adjustment.”
“Of course,” Gregory said smoothly. “Few are prepared for life at Blackwood Mansion. But you’ll learn. You must. You’re part of this family’s future now.”
The word family scraped against her like a blade.
Gregory leaned closer. “You’ll find that my son can be… difficult. Cold. But he’s a Blackwood. Duty runs in his blood. In time, he’ll fulfill it. And so will you.”
Evelyn’s skin crawled. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t his puppet, that she hadn’t chosen this life. But his eyes pinned her, sharp and commanding.
All she could do was nod.
Gregory patted her hand like she was a child. “Good girl.”
And then he walked away, leaving Evelyn trembling in the sunlight.
Vanessa’s POV
Vanessa’s phone buzzed with a new report. She read through the message, lips curling.
Subject: Evelyn Carter. Currently residing at Blackwood Mansion. Close surveillance by Gregory. Initial tensions with Damian observed.
Perfect.
Vanessa leaned back in her chair, swirling her wine glass. Evelyn might have Gregory’s protection now, but Vanessa had something better, motivation.
She typed a reply to her contact. Dig deeper. I want leverage. Something she can’t bury.
Her eyes glimmered with satisfaction.
The higher Evelyn climbed into Damian’s world, the harder Vanessa would enjoy tearing her down.
Evelyn’s POV
Dinner that evening was unbearable.
Gregory’s presence loomed, but it was Damian’s silence that gnawed at her. He barely looked at her, yet she felt his gaze constantly, like heat against her skin.
She pushed food around her plate, trying to ignore the tension.
Then Gregory spoke. “Tomorrow, you’ll begin medical evaluations with Dr. Allen Pierre. A necessary step before conception.”
Evelyn froze, her fork clattering.
Damian’s gaze lifted then, sharp and unreadable. For a moment, their eyes locked.
She felt stripped bare.
Gregory’s smile returned. “This family’s legacy is at stake. We cannot delay.”
Evelyn forced a nod, though her stomach turned to stone.
Later, as she returned to her quarters, she felt it again, the weight of unseen eyes watching her from the shadows.
She closed her door, sliding the lock into place, her chest tight.
And whispered into the silence: “I’m not safe here.”
Damian’s POV
Damian stood in his study, fists clenched.
He’d seen Evelyn’s fear at the dinner table. He’d seen the way Gregory’s words had shaken her.
And he hated it.
He told himself it didn’t matter. That she didn’t matter.
But when he closed his eyes, all he saw was her.
Her fire. Her fear. Her defiance.
Damian slammed his glass down, whiskey sloshing over the edge.
If Gregory wanted a pawn, fine. But Damian would never let his father break her.
No matter what it cost.
Chapter 25 – The First Evaluation
Evelyn's POV
The car ride to the hospital felt more like an escort than transportation.
Evelyn sat stiffly in the leather seat of the luxury vehicle, clutching her purse on her lap as though it could anchor her. The tinted windows kept the bustling city blurred and distant, making her feel as if she were watching life from behind glass.
Across from her, Damian Blackwood scrolled through his phone, calm and composed as always. His stillness irritated her. He looked like a man immune to nerves, to doubt, to the weight of decisions. Everything about him was polished control, from the line of his jaw to the sharp cut of his tailored suit.
Evelyn envied that control. For her, every breath on the way to this evaluation felt like borrowed air.
The silence pressed in until it became unbearable. Evelyn shifted in her seat, twisting the strap of her purse between her fingers.
Damian’s voice cut through the quiet, smooth but cold. “Stop fidgeting.”
Her head snapped up. “I’m not”, she answered.
“You’re twisting the strap of your purse hard enough to break it,” he said without looking at her. “Calm yourself. This is standard procedure.”
The remark stung. Evelyn bit back the retort that rose in her throat. She had learned quickly that defiance against Damian rarely achieved anything. His power was not in raised voices, but in silence, in the way he could look through her as though she were less than necessary. That, she realized, was far worse than anger.
She forced her fingers open and flattened her hands on her lap.
“Better,” he murmured, still focused on his phone.
Her chest tightened. She hated that even this small correction carried the weight of command. Hated that part of her wanted to please him, even when she despised his attitude.
The car slowed, pulling into the underground entrance of the hospital. Security waved them in immediately. Blackwood money seemed to open every door without hesitation.
The driver stepped out and opened Damian’s door first. Always him first. Always the man with power. Damian stepped out from the car, tall and commanding, gray eyes flicking once toward Evelyn.
“Come.” He said.
The word was not loud, but it carried expectation. She followed him.
The underground garage gleamed under bright lighting. Two hospital staff members in pale uniforms were already waiting, standing with the deference reserved for someone of Damian’s status. One of them, a young orderly with close-cropped hair, greeted him with a professional smile.
“Mr. Blackwood, Dr. Allen is ready for you and Miss Carter.”
Miss Carter. Evelyn clung to the name with quiet desperation. At least here, for now, she was still herself.
They followed the staff into a private elevator. Damian pressed his palm against the biometric scanner on the panel, and the doors slid shut. Evelyn raised her brows.
“Biometric clearance?” she muttered under her breath. “For a hospital?”
Damian’s gray eyes flicked briefly toward her, unreadable. “Privacy is non-negotiable.”
The words did little to soothe her. If anything, they reminded her how little control she had.
The evaluation room smelled faintly of antiseptic, mixed with lavender from a small diffuser. The combination only unsettled her more.
Dr. Allen Pierre looked up as they entered. Relief softened the tension in Evelyn’s chest. His gray hair and calm, steady eyes were exactly as she remembered from her intake visit. He smiled warmly, and it was genuine, not rehearsed for effect.
“Miss Carter,” he said, extending his hand. “Good to see you again. How are you settling in?”
Evelyn forced a small smile. “Fine.” The lie barely made it past her lips.
Dr. Allen studied her for a moment but chose not to press. Instead, he turned to Damian, his professionalism sharpening.
“Mr. Blackwood. Thank you for coming. Shall we begin?”
Damian gave a single nod, his expression unreadable.
Dr. Allen gestured toward the exam table. “Miss Carter, if you’ll take a seat, we’ll start with some routine checks.”
Evelyn obeyed. Shoes off, coat folded neatly over the chair, she sat on the table as the nurse, Felicia, her badge read. Fastened a blood pressure cuff around her arm. Felicia was young, maybe not much older than Evelyn herself, with nervous eyes that darted between Damian and Evelyn as though waiting for one of them to snap.
“Blood pressure’s good,” Felicia reported softly.
“Excellent,” Dr. Allen said, making notes on the tablet in his hand. “Now, Evelyn, I’ll need to ask a few personal questions. If you’re uncomfortable at any point, please tell me.”
Before Evelyn could answer, Damian’s voice filled the room, calm but cutting. “She signed the contract. She knows what’s required.”
The words struck Evelyn like a slap. To him, she was nothing more than a condition to fulfill.
Dr. Allen’s gaze flicked to Damian briefly, then returned to Evelyn. His tone remained gentle. “How have you been feeling?”, “We'll need to run some blood tests on you”.
“Just tired. And nervous,” Evelyn admitted quietly. “Okay, I'm fine with the tests”.
Dr. Allen nodded, jotting notes. “That’s understandable. We’ll run the bloodwork now and schedule another meeting for next week.”
The nurse pricked her arm, collecting several vials of blood. Evelyn kept her gaze fixed on the wall, refusing to look at Damian. She didn’t want to see his cold scrutiny while her body was reduced to samples and numbers.
But she still felt his eyes on her, steady, unyielding.
When Dr. Allen placed the stethoscope against her chest, Evelyn caught Damian’s reflection in the glass cabinet across the room. His jaw was tight. His fingers tapped once against his knee, then stilled. For the first time, he looked less like a statue and more like a man containing something volatile.
Why?
The exam ended quickly. Evelyn slipped her coat back on, the fabric feeling like armor against the vulnerability of the past hour.
“You’re doing well, Evelyn,” Dr. Allen said warmly. “Remember, if you ever feel pressured, you can contact me directly.”
Her brows furrowed. Was that something doctors usually said? Or had he already sensed the tension suffocating her?
Damian rose, buttoning his jacket with practiced efficiency. “We’re finished here?”
“For today,” Dr. Allen confirmed. “I’ll see Miss Carter next week.”
Evelyn murmured a thank-you, grateful for the man’s kindness, and followed Damian out.
The ride back to the mansion was quiet again, but the silence felt heavier this time. It was so loud that she could feel their breathing. Evelyn rested her forehead against the cool window, watching skyscrapers slice through the sky. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and tired.
The sharp buzz of Damian’s phone shattered the stillness. He glanced at the screen. For the first time all day, his composure cracked. His jaw tightened, gray eyes flashing with something sharp and dangerous.
Evelyn frowned. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He tilted the screen slightly away, but she’d already glimpsed it.
A photo. Of her.
Stepping out of the car at the hospital, head down, purse clutched to her chest.
The caption beneath: Who is the mystery woman spotted with Damian Blackwood at a private surrogate clinic/hospital? Rumors swirl.
Evelyn’s breath caught.
Her face. Her image. Out there.
Damian’s lips pressed into a hard line as he typed quickly, thumbs striking the screen with clipped fury.
“Oh my God…” Evelyn whispered, the words escaping her before she could stop them.
The photo had leaked. She was no longer anonymous.
Her life would never be the same.
And she knew, deep in her bones, that this was only the beginning.
Chapter 26 – Leaked
Damian's POV
Damian stared at the photo glowing on his phone screen, his grip so tight around the device it might have cracked.
Evelyn.
Caught mid-step, face clear, posture tense.
The gossip site had captured her stepping out of the car at the hospital. The caption written beneath it:
“Who is the mystery woman spotted with Damian Blackwood at a private surrogate clinic/hospital? Rumors swirl.”
The comments below escalated, multiplying by the second.
He finally has a girlfriend?
She looks like no one special. Blackwood must be desperate.
Private surrogate clinic? He must be hiding something.
Trash. All of it. But trash had a way of catching fire when thrown into the right crowd.
Across from him, Evelyn sat frozen, her face pale, eyes wide. She clutched her purse in her lap as though it could shield her from the exposure.
Damian locked his phone and slid it into his pocket. “Someone followed us.”
Her voice was a whisper. “So… what happens now?”
Gray eyes flicked to hers. She was trembling, visibly scares, yet she still tried to hold his gaze. The fear beneath her surface pricked something sharp in him.
“You’re no longer invisible,” he said, his tone flat but edged. “From now on, you’ll be watched. Speculated about. They’ll dig into you, Evelyn.”
Her lips parted, shock rippling across her face. “But I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t—”
“I know.” His voice came sharper than he intended, cutting through the car’s silence. She flinched, and guilt stabbed at him, quick and unwelcome. He forced himself to rein in the steel in his tone. “This isn’t your fault. But it doesn’t matter. The world doesn’t care about blame, only headlines.”
Evelyn lowered her gaze to her lap. Her fingers twisted the purse strap again until her knuckles blanched.
Damian leaned back, jaw tight, mind already working through possibilities. This leak hadn’t been random. The angle of the shot, the timing, the publication, it all stank of organization, of proper planning.
And there was only one person who would dare.
Vanessa.
The thought of her name soured his blood. She had been circling, restless and quiet. Quiet never meant safe with Vanessa. Quiet meant plotting.
He turned his head toward Evelyn again. “From this point, you don’t leave the mansion without clearance. No unplanned outings. No interviews. You don’t speak to anyone about this.”
Her head jerked up. “You expect me to hide like a criminal?”
His gaze hardened. “I expect you to survive. Reporters will swarm you like wolves if you step into the open right now. They’ll drag your name through the mud just to feed a headline.”
Her throat bobbed, her eyes shining. “I can’t live like a prisoner.”
“You can. And you will.”
Silence cut through the car again, sharp as a knife. Evelyn turned to the window, pressing her forehead against the glass, shoulders trembling faintly.
Damian forced himself to look away. The stirrings of sympathy crawling through his chest were dangerous. Dangerous, and unwelcome.
The manor loomed ahead like a fortress when they arrived. Damian stepped out first, his expression unreadable. Evelyn followed a step behind, her movements small, wary.
He left her to the staff and retreated to his study. He needed focus, not distraction.
The heavy oak door shut behind him, muting the sounds of the mansion. He sat at his desk, phone in hand, pulling the article up again. He studied the photo, the clarity of it, the framing. A professional shot. This wasn’t chance.
He called Reed Dawson.
The lawyer answered on the second ring, his voice rough. “This better be good. Do you know what time it is?”
Damian’s tone was like ice. “Check the gossip wires. An article just went live.”
There was a pause, then Reed cursed under his breath. “Christ. They got her face.”
“Yes.”
“This is going to blow up.”
“Fix it.”
Reed sighed heavily. “I’ll bury it as best I can. Push other stories, flood the cycle. But you know how this works. Once something’s out, it can’t be erased. At best, I can smother it.”
“Do it,” Damian said sharply.
There was a pause, then Reed’s voice softened with implication. “This wasn’t random, Damian. Somebody handed that photo over.”
“I know exactly who.” Damian’s jaw clenched.
“You’re thinking Vanessa?”
His gray eyes darkened. “Who else?”
“I’ll dig. If she slipped, I’ll find it.”
“Call me back when you do.” Damian ended the call without farewell. Reed knew he didn’t waste words.
For a moment, Damian sat in the silence, the glow of the phone casting shadows across his face. His reflection in the blackened window stared back, unreadable, except for the flicker of something buried deep.
Protectiveness.
The realization irritated him. Evelyn was supposed to be a contract, a solution, an incubator for his heir. Nothing more. But the image of her pale face in the car, her trembling hands, clung to him like a stain.
He hated it.
A knock at the door broke the silence. Light. Hesitant.
Damian’s gaze shifted to the wood. “What?”
The door creaked open, and Evelyn stepped in. She lingered at the threshold, her posture uncertain.
“I just…” She hesitated, then blurted, “I’m sorry.”
His brow furrowed. “For what?”
“For dragging you into this mess. If I hadn’t agreed—if I hadn’t come here—you wouldn’t be in the news with… me.”
Damian stood, his height casting a shadow across the room. He crossed the floor in measured steps until he was standing close enough that she had to tilt her chin to look up at him.
“You think this is your fault?”
Her lips trembled. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” His voice was firm, quiet but unyielding. “This was calculated. You were caught in the crossfire.”
Her eyes widened at his tone, as though she hadn’t expected him to defend her. The silence stretched, charged with something neither of them dared name.
Finally, Evelyn nodded, her cheeks flushed. “I’ll… leave you to your work.”
She turned and slipped out, the door closing softly behind her.
Damian stood there, the echo of her presence lingering in the room. Something restless pressed against his chest. He pushed it down, shoved it deep where it belonged.
He returned to his desk, but his thoughts weren’t on the article. They were on Evelyn, her eyes, her voice.
His phone buzzed. A new notification.
He unlocked it, and froze.
Vanessa’s latest post.
A carefully staged photo: her hand resting lightly on her stomach, her lips curved in a coy smile.
The caption: “Big news coming soon. Can’t wait to share.”
Damian’s eyes went cold.
Vanessa had made her move.
Chapter 27 – Locked Out
Vanessa’s POV
Vanessa Hart pressed the ring button on the sleek glass panel beside Damian Blackwood’s penthouse gate. The sound was loud in the empty corridor, echoing back against marble and steel.
She waited, one manicured hand poised on her hip, lips curved in a practiced smile. Any second now, one of the guards would step outside, recognize her, and let her in. She was Vanessa, after all. Damian’s woman. His only real lover. The woman he always came back to.
The gate didn’t open.
Instead, the guard stationed by the entrance stepped forward. His expression was flat, impassive. “Miss Hart.”
Vanessa arched a brow, her smile tightening. “Good evening. You can open the door. Damian’s expecting me.”
The guard didn’t flinch. “Mr. Blackwood isn’t in residence.”
The words scraped against her composure. She tilted her head, lashes fluttering. “Not in residence? That’s ridiculous. He always spends his nights here.”
The man’s stance didn’t shift. “He hasn’t been here for days. He’s not in residence.”
Her heart quickened, a hot thread of anger rising beneath her skin. She adjusted her coat, a designer piece in ivory wool that fell flawlessly against her curves. “Then let me wait inside. He won’t appreciate me being turned away.”
The guard’s expression remained hard from stone. “Orders are clear. No one is allowed in when Mr. Blackwood isn’t present. Not even you.”
Not even you.
The phrase broke her. She masked the sting with a brittle laugh, her green eyes narrowing just slightly. “Don’t you know who I am? I don’t need to be kept out like some delivery girl. Damian won't appreciate me being treated like this.”
The guard didn’t waver. “Mr. Blackwood isn’t here.”
The air seemed colder all of a sudden, the polished tarred floor beneath her heels echoing too loudly. Vanessa smoothed a hand over her hair, long brunette waves falling perfectly over her shoulders, and took a step back.
“Fine,” she said crisply, her tone slicing the air. “I’ll come back later.”
But the words tasted sour.
She did come back later. Twice more that week.
Each time, the same blank-faced refusal. The same cutting words: He isn’t in residence.
By the third time, Vanessa’s smile was gone. She stood outside the penthouse gate in a fury that simmered hot and low in her chest. Her hands clenched around the strap of her handbag, nails digging into the expensive leather.
He was avoiding her. He had been ignoring her calls and messages.
Damian Blackwood, the man who had always, eventually, opened his bed and his arms to her, was shutting her out. Without a word. Without explanation.
And Vanessa knew why.
The whispers had reached her, and she had understood. The leaked photo had spread across the internet like wildfire. Damian Blackwood spotted with a mystery woman at a private surrogate clinic.
She’d stared at the grainy image for hours, her teeth grinding until her jaw ached. Evelyn Carter. The girl who had slipped into his life under the guise of innocence, who’d somehow made Damian keep her close.
Living in the Blackwood mansion, no less.
Vanessa’s laugh was sharp and bitter as she scrolled through the article again on her phone. The comments were brutal, tearing Evelyn apart for being too plain, too ordinary, not worthy of Damian’s attention. Normally Vanessa would have reveled in it. But the fact that Evelyn was even there, close enough to be photographed beside him, ignited a rage Vanessa couldn’t smother.
Evelyn had no right. No place. Damian was hers.
Vanessa tossed her phone onto her pristine white sofa, pacing the length of her high-rise apartment. Glass walls opened to the glittering New York roads, but the view didn’t calm her. It mocked her. The city should have been hers to rule, draped on Damian’s arm. Instead, she was locked out like an outsider.
No. Not for long.
She grabbed her coat again, her heels clicking furiously against the marble floor, and headed out into the night.
Nurse Felicia looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.
They sat tucked into a quiet corner of a hotel lounge, the air heavy with the scent of whiskey and polished wood. Felicia’s hands twisted around a glass of soda, her eyes staring nervously around the room.
Vanessa, perfectly poised in a silk blouse that clung in all the right places, leaned forward with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“You’re late,” she said coolly.
Felicia swallowed. “I, I had a shift.”
Vanessa waved a dismissive hand, bracelets jingling softly. “Yes, yes. You’re busy saving lives. Spare me the excuses.” She slid an envelope across the table, the faintest bulge betraying the stack of bills inside. “Let’s talk about what really matters.”
Felicia’s gaze flickered to the envelope, then back to Vanessa. “I can’t tell you a patient's record. It's dangerous. If anyone finds out”
“No one will find out,” Vanessa interrupted smoothly, her voice dripping with condescension. “You’re clever enough to keep things discreet. And I’m generous enough to make it worth your while.”
Felicia hesitated, fingers tightening around her glass. “You asked me about her last visit. Evelyn Carter. There isn’t much to tell. She came in for an evaluation. Vitals were fine. Bloodwork taken.”
Vanessa’s nails tapped against the table, sharp and impatient. “And Damian? Was he there?”
Felicia nodded reluctantly. “Yes. He came with her.”
The words hit Vanessa like a hard blow. She forced her face into a mask of calm, but her blood boiled and roared in her ears. He wasn’t avoiding women. He was avoiding her. Because he was going for clinic evaluations with his surrogate. .
She smiled thinly, though her teeth ached from the effort. “That’s helpful. Very helpful.”
Felicia shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t say more. It’s confidential. I’ve already said too much.”
Vanessa’s hand shot out, nails grazing Felicia’s wrist as she pinned her in place. “Listen carefully. You’ll keep me updated. Every appointment, every result, every whispered conversation you overhear. Or that little nursing license you’re so protective of might not matter anymore.”
Felicia’s breath hitched, her eyes wide. “You wouldn’t”.
Vanessa leaned closer, green eyes glittering. “I would.”
The silence stretched, taut and heavy. Finally, Felicia jerked a stiff nod.
“Good girl,” Vanessa murmured, releasing her. She pushed the envelope closer. “Now take this. And remember, loyalty is rewarded. Betrayal isn’t.”
Felicia snatched the envelope, her fingers trembling, and stood quickly. She mumbled an excuse and fled, leaving Vanessa alone in the corner of the lounge.
Vanessa leaned back, exhaling slowly, letting her mask crack for the briefest second. Her hand shook as she lifted her wineglass.
She downed it in one gulp.
Later, in her apartment, Vanessa scrolled through her social media again. Her post, the photo of her hand on her stomach, the caption “Big news coming soon. Can’t wait to share.”, had gone viral.
Hundreds of comments, thousands of likes. People speculating she was pregnant. People assuming it was Damian’s.
Exactly as she intended.
And yet, Damian hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t appeared at her door.
Instead, he was holed up in that fortress of a mansion, guarding Evelyn like she was something precious.
Vanessa’s grip tightened on her phone until the case creaked. “You think she’s better than me?” she hissed into the empty room. “You think that little waitress can give you what I can’t?”
Her reflection glared back at her from the dark glass of the window. Her face was flawless, her body enviable, her name recognized in every fashionable corner of the city. She had clawed her way out of poverty with grit and ambition, and she was not about to lose everything to a nobody like Evelyn Carter.
The rage boiled over. She seized her wineglass and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, crimson liquid spraying across the white paint like blood.
The sound rang in the silence, sharp and final.
Vanessa stood breathing hard, her chest heaving, eyes bright with fury.
“No,” she whispered to herself, voice shaking with venom. “He’s mine. Damian Blackwood is mine. And I’ll tear her apart before I let her have his heir.”
The city lights blinked cold and distant behind her as she stood in the wreckage of her temper, plotting her next move.
Chapter 28 – A House of Strangers
Evelyn’s POV
The Blackwood mansion was a world Evelyn could not belong to, no matter how many days or weeks passed.
The ceilings arched impossibly high, chandeliers glittered like captured constellations, and every hallway was lined with artwork that looked like it belonged in a museum. But for all its grandeur, it felt cold. Too polished, too perfect. A house that wanted to remind her she was a guest, not family. A body without warmth, dressed in velvet and stone.
Evelyn often found herself wandering the corridors aimlessly, her footsteps muffled on polished marble floors. Staff moved around her like shadows, polite smiles, courteous nods, but never warmth. They were Gregory’s people, not hers. And in their eyes, she was not Evelyn Carter, the girl from a diner; she was a contract. A womb.
One morning, as she walked past the grand staircase, she overheard two maids whispering in the hallway.
“…so strange, isn’t it? Living here like she belongs.”
“Mr. Gregory says she’s important. That’s all we need to know.”
“Important doesn’t make her a Blackwood.”
Their voices dropped as they noticed Evelyn’s presence. Both lowered their eyes and scurried off, but the sting remained.
Important. Not wanted.
Her grip tightened on the railing, knuckles white. She wanted to shout that she wasn’t here by choice, that she’d signed away her freedom because debt had left her no other way out. But the walls of the mansion swallowed confessions whole. No one wanted her truth.
Gregory hadn’t seen her since the visit to the clinic, but his presence lingered like a shadow in every corner. Evelyn often caught the staff mentioning “Mr. Gregory said” or “Mr. Gregory instructed.” He was always there without being there, the architect of her prison.
She could still remember his cold eyes studying her at the charity event, as though he had already marked her fate. Evelyn shivered whenever she thought of him, and the knowledge that he’d chosen her for Damian made her skin crawl.
Gregory’s approval didn’t matter to her. What mattered was survival, paying off her parents’ debts, finally being free. And for that, she had signed.
Signed away her life. Signed away her body. Signed away choice.
Especially that clause.
Conception: to occur naturally, under the direct arrangement of the intended father, Damian Blackwood.
She had skimmed over it in desperation, heart pounding as she put pen to paper. At the time, it had seemed far away, abstract, almost unreal. But now, living here in this gilded cage, she could feel it pressing down on her.
Any day now, Damian would decide it was time. And she would have to.
Evelyn shut her eyes, pressing her palms to her temples. No. She couldn’t think about it. Not yet.
Damian was another complication entirely.
When he was around, he filled the room with silence more oppressive than words. He would stride past her with his long frame, perfectly tailored suits never wrinkled, his icy gray eyes glancing her way with an unreadable weight. Sometimes he ignored her completely; sometimes, unexpectedly, he noticed details no one else did.
The night before, when she had skipped dinner, a tray appeared outside her door without a word. Roasted chicken, vegetables, and her favorite kind of tea, the kind she always ordered at the diner. How had he known?
Another time, when one of the maids muttered too loudly about her not fitting in, Damian’s voice cut through the hall like steel. “You forget yourself. Miss Carter is under my protection.”
He hadn’t looked at her afterward, hadn’t even acknowledged the shock on her face. But she had heard it: the unmistakable claim in his tone.
It confused her more than his coldness. Which version of Damian Blackwood was real, the one who saw her as a contract, or the one who silenced gossip for her sake?
The storm arrived without warning.
That evening, the sky darkened with swollen clouds, and rain lashed against the mansion windows in heavy sheets. The wind howled, rattling the panes, and lightning split the sky in jagged bursts.
Evelyn sat curled on the window seat of her assigned room, knees hugged to her chest, staring out at the storm. Thunder rolled so loudly it shook the glass.
She had always hated storms. They reminded her of nights in her old apartment, power flickering, the roof leaking, her heart pounding with every crack of thunder. Storms were chaos, and Evelyn had lived with enough chaos to know she couldn’t control it.
When the lights suddenly flickered and died, plunging her wing of the mansion into darkness, her chest seized.
The hallway outside her room glowed faintly with emergency lights, casting everything in an eerie shadow. Evelyn grabbed a candle from the dresser and lit it with shaking hands. The flame wavered, fragile against the dark.
She stepped into the hallway, her bare feet soundless on the carpet. The storm howled, and the house felt too big, too hollow.
That was when she saw him.
Damian stood at the end of the corridor, a candle in his own hand, the golden light painting sharp angles across his face. He was a dark silhouette against the storm’s flash through the window, tall, steady, composed even in the chaos.
Their eyes met across the hall. For once, his gray gaze didn’t feel cold. It felt searching.
“Lost power in this wing,” he said, voice steady.
Evelyn swallowed, hugging the candle closer. “Seems like it.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Thunder cracked, and she flinched despite herself. The flame of her candle wavered, almost going out.
Damian’s steps echoed as he moved closer, slow, deliberate. He stopped just a foot away, his presence overpowering in the dim light.
“You’re afraid of storms.” It wasn’t a question.
Evelyn tightened her grip on the candle. “I don’t like them.”
His gaze flicked to her trembling hands, then back to her face. “Fear won’t serve you here.”
Her lips parted, stung by his bluntness. “Not everything can be controlled, Damian. Not storms. Not people.”
For a fraction of a second, his expression shifted, something unreadable, almost pained, before his mask slid back into place.
“Control is the only thing that matters,” he said quietly.
They stood there in the storm-lit hall, silence pressing like a weight. Evelyn’s heart thudded too loudly in her chest. She couldn’t look away from him, from the way the flickering light caught in his eyes.
She saw not just coldness, but something else beneath. Something heavy. Something human.
Then the lights flickered back on. The candles seemed ridiculous, fragile props in the glaring brightness.
Damian blew his out, his face sliding back into shadowed detachment. “Go back to your room, Evelyn.”
Her name on his lips made her shiver. She hated that it did.
She nodded quickly, retreating to her room, closing the door with trembling hands.
Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. She pressed her back against the door, staring at the candle still clutched in her fingers.
She should hate him. She should.
But as she climbed into bed, pulling the blanket to her chin, her mind wouldn’t let go of the image of Damian’s face lit by candlelight, his eyes searching hers in the storm.
The contract’s clause loomed in her thoughts, sharp and unavoidable. Conception to occur naturally. She had signed it, agreed to it. And sooner or later, the time would come.
Her stomach twisted.
She wasn’t as immune to him as she wanted to believe.
That truth terrified her more than the storm.
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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