Discover Novels Library Profile

The billionaire’s virgin surrogate - Chapter 39



Chapter 39


                      Damian’s POV


Damian was across the garden in seconds, arms scooping her up before her body could hit the gravel. Her weight in his arms was frighteningly light, her head resting against his chest as her lashes fluttered weakly. For a man who prided himself on control, the raw panic that surged through him was new, unwelcome, yet unstoppable.

“Evelyn,” he said sharply, his voice lower than intended, rough with urgency. “Stay awake.”

She didn’t respond, only let out a faint sigh, her fingers twitching against his shirt.

Damian barked an order loudly toward the nearest guard. “Car. Now.”

The man scrambled, radio crackling as instructions flew. In less than a minute, the sleek black SUV skidded up to the garden path. Damian didn’t waste time with gentleness, he carried Evelyn like something priceless and irreplaceable, lowering her into the back seat as though the car itself might bruise her.

He slid in beside her, jaw locked, every muscle wired tight. Her head rested against his shoulder, too still, too pale.

By the time they reached Dr. Allen’s private wing of the hospital, Damian’s composure had cracked in places no one else had ever seen. He strode past the staff with Evelyn in his arms, ignoring the startled looks, his voice a cold whip.

“Get Dr. Allen. Now.”

The evaluation room was sterile but warm, lavender still faint in the diffuser. Damian lowered Evelyn onto the examination bed with a carefulness that betrayed his tension. Her eyes fluttered open weakly, glassy with exhaustion.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

The lie grated on him. “You fainted on the steps near the garden.” His voice came out harsher than intended. “That is not fine.”

Dr. Allen appeared swiftly, his calm presence filling the room. “Mr. Blackwood, let me do my job.” He directed a nurse to draw blood, take vitals, and monitor oxygen.

Damian stood at the side of the bed, hands in fists at his sides. He hated feeling useless. He hated that for once, his money, his power, his authority, none of it could guarantee her safety. He could only watch.

Minutes stretched, each one gnawing at him. Evelyn winced at the prick of the needle, and his entire body tensed as though he’d felt it himself.

Finally, Dr. Allen approached, tablet in hand, expression unreadable. “The fainting spells, the fatigue, the sensitivity, Miss Carter isn’t ill.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed, confused. “Then explain.”

Dr. Allen smiled faintly. “Congratulations. She’s pregnant.”

The words struck Damian like a blow, but not the kind that wounded. No, it was something else, something heavier, sharper. A surge of emotion he hadn’t anticipated. Relief. Pride. Possession. A crack of warmth in the ice around his chest.

His heir. Real. Alive. Growing inside Evelyn.

For a moment, the world seemed to still.

Evelyn turned her head toward him, searching his face, her eyes wide and uncertain. “So it’s true,” she whispered, half to herself. “I’m really…?”

Dr. Allen nodded. “Yes. Early stages, but strong. We’ll continue monitoring closely. With care, everything should progress smoothly.”

Evelyn’s lips curved in a fragile, almost disbelieving smile. Then her gaze flicked back to Damian. And what she found there clearly unsettled her.

Because he wasn’t smiling.

He couldn’t. His face remained a mask, even as something fierce clawed at his chest. The weight of responsibility, the shadow of Vanessa’s public claims, the knowledge that the truth was more dangerous than either of them could imagine.

Evelyn’s fingers curled into the sheets. She thought his silence meant indifference. He could see it in the way her smile faded, replaced by a shadow of hurt.

Damian forced his voice steady. “We’ll do whatever’s necessary.”

Dr. Allen gave a curt nod. “I’ll have supplements prepared. She’ll need rest, nutrition, and less stress.” His gaze cut toward Damian briefly. 

Damian ignored it. His attention was fixed on Evelyn, who turned her face away, staring at the wall as though retreating from him.

Hours later, after tests and instructions, Evelyn lay resting in the hospital room. Damian remained seated in the corner, silent, watchful. She had drifted into sleep, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that both soothed and unsettled him.

His heir. His bloodline.

For months, his father’s voice had been an unyielding echo in his head. No heir, no inheritance. No heir, no legacy.

Now, the condition was fulfilled. But instead of triumph, Damian felt something dangerously close to, gratitude. Toward her.

And beneath it, fear.

Because Vanessa’s lie had already poisoned the waters. Society was buzzing with her claim, headlines painting her as the mother of his child. Evelyn knew of it, of course she did, but she dismissed it as a lie. Damian had seen the stubborn disbelief in her eyes. She trusted her own truth. But what would happen when Vanessa forced her “proof” into the light?

His jaw tightened. He couldn’t allow Evelyn to be crushed beneath Vanessa’s games. Not when she was carrying the only thing that mattered.

He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, studying her face in the soft glow of the lamp. Her lashes trembled faintly even in sleep, her lips parted as if words lingered unspoken. She looked fragile. Too fragile for the storm he’d dragged her into.

He reached out before he could stop himself, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. The smallest touch, yet it sent a ripple through him, like an oath forming silently in his chest.

“This child is mine,” he whispered, voice low, steady. “No one will take that from me.”

Across the city, Vanessa Hart stood in front of her mirror, her reflection staring back like an adversary. Her lipstick was smeared, her curls tangled, her dress slipped from one shoulder.

The man behind her, wealthy, drunk, forgettable, was already asleep in her bed. She didn’t bother to look at him. He wasn’t important. He was a means to an end.

Vanessa smoothed the strap of her dress back into place, her fingers trembling. Her chest still heaved with the aftermath of what she’d done, but her eyes burned with cold determination.

Because she’d felt it, the shift. Damian was slipping further away. Evelyn’s presence in his mansion, the rumors swirling thicker each day, It was all closing in on her.

So she’d made her choice.

If her words alone weren’t enough, then her body would provide the evidence. She would get pregnant. For real. And once she did, no one would question her again. Not the media, not the investors, not Damian himself.

She picked up her phone from the vanity, flipping through the photos of her with Lydia, of her hand resting against her flat stomach as she whispered to reporters that she was carrying the Blackwood heir. A lie, then. But soon? It would become truth.

Her reflection in the mirror smiled back, a sharp, cruel curve of lips.

Now he can never leave me.

Vanessa turned, her gaze flicking toward the man in her bed. He was irrelevant, disposable. But his usefulness had already been claimed.

She slipped beneath the covers, pressing herself against him, her mind already racing ahead to the future.

To the moment when Damian would be forced to choose.

And she would make sure he had no choice at all.

Back at the hospital, Damian remained at Evelyn’s side. She stirred faintly, whispering his name in her sleep, and for the first time in years, Damian Blackwood felt his heart begin to genuinely like someone. 

He leaned back in the chair, eyes narrowing with resolve.

Vanessa might try to spin her web of lies. But Evelyn carried his truth.

And he would burn the world before he let anyone steal it from him.







             Chapter 40 – Shifting Tides

                       Evelyn’s POV

The ride back from the hospital was a blur.

Evelyn sat in the back seat of the car with Damian, her fingers pressed protectively to her stomach. Pregnant. The word still rang in her chest like a bell she couldn’t un-hear. She was carrying his child. His heir.

She should have felt stronger, reassured, maybe even secure in her place here. Instead, she felt small and unsteady, like a pawn being moved across a chessboard she didn’t understand.

Damian sat across from her, eyes fixed out the tinted window. The silence between them was heavier than anything she had ever felt. She had seen something flicker across his face in Dr. Allen’s office, pride? relief?, but it had vanished the moment it appeared.

Now his mask was back in place, and Evelyn didn’t know what he was thinking.

Her hand tightened over her stomach. Even if he doesn’t care, I do.

The mansion felt cavernous when they returned. Evelyn climbed the staircase slowly, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. In her room, she sat on the bed, staring out at the moonlit gardens.

That was where she had fainted. That was where Damian had caught her. For one brief moment, she’d seen raw panic in his eyes, unfiltered and human. Then it was gone, buried under ice.

She curled under the sheets, her hand never leaving her stomach, and let the night swallow her.

The next afternoon, Evelyn found herself wandering into the library. She hadn’t meant to; her feet carried her there as if searching for a place that didn’t feel like a stranger’s home. The air was warm, filled with the scent of leather and old paper, the faint crackle of the fire softening the edges of the silence.

She traced her fingers along the spines of books she would never read. Some titles were in languages she didn’t even recognize. This place felt like another world, a world she wasn’t meant to belong to.

“You look lost.”

The voice made her turn.

Gregory Blackwood sat in one of the high-backed chairs by the window, a book open in his lap. His silver hair caught the afternoon light, and his expression was not cold, not sharp, but almost amused.

“I, sorry,” Evelyn stammered. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“No need to apologize,” Gregory said smoothly. “This library is meant to be used, not just admired.” He set the book aside. “Do you read?”

Evelyn hesitated, then smiled faintly. “When I can. Nothing like this, though.” She gestured at the endless shelves. “Mostly novels, things I can carry in a bag.”

Gregory chuckled, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “That’s how I started too. Cheap paperbacks, stolen hours at night when I should’ve been sleeping. Books are companions. The kind that never leave you, even when the people do.”

Evelyn blinked. She hadn’t expected that kind of honesty from him. “I didn’t think someone like you would…” She stopped herself, embarrassed.

His eyes softened. “Would what? Remember being young? Ordinary?”

She lowered her gaze, cheeks warm.

Gregory leaned back, his tone gentle. “I was just a boy sneaking into libraries because I couldn’t afford the books I wanted.” 

Something in her chest shifted. For the first time, she saw not the powerful patriarch or the stern billionaire, but a man with a past.

Gregory lifted his brandy glass, then set it aside without drinking. “Tell me, how are you feeling? Truly.”

Evelyn’s throat tightened. “Tired. Overwhelmed.”

He nodded slowly. “Pregnancy will do that. But stress makes it worse. You mustn’t let gossip or noise trouble you.”

Her breath caught. “You mean Vanessa.”

Gregory’s smile was faint, but kind. “Vanessa thrives on chaos. Let her. She cannot touch what matters. And what matters is here.” His gaze flicked, almost tenderly, toward her stomach. “My grandchild.”

The word stunned her. Grandchild. It felt so personal, so intimate, as though she were already part of something larger than herself.

“I… I don’t know if I belong here,” Evelyn whispered before she could stop herself.

Gregory tilted his head, studying her. Then, to her surprise, he chuckled softly. “None of us ever feels like we belong at first. Not even Damian, when he took over the company. He pretends to be carved from stone, but I know better. We all stumble, Evelyn. The trick is pretending not to.”

Her lips curved faintly despite herself.

For several minutes, they sat in companionable silence, the fire crackling softly between them.

Gregory spoke again, his voice quieter now. “You remind me of Damian’s mother. She had a gentleness that drew people in. But don’t mistake gentleness for weakness. She was stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened. No one had spoken of Damian’s mother before. She wanted to ask more, but Gregory leaned back, closing the book on his lap.

“You should rest,” he said warmly. “Both of you.” His eyes flicked once more to her stomach. “The world will be loud, but inside these walls, you must find your peace.”

Evelyn rose slowly, her chest tight with something she couldn’t name. Gratitude. Confusion. A strange warmth she hadn’t expected to feel toward him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Gregory inclined his head, the faintest smile softening his features. “Anytime.”

That night, Evelyn couldn’t sleep. She lay awake in bed, replaying Gregory’s words, his unexpected kindness. It unsettled her almost as much as Vanessa’s lies. She had expected him to be cold, to treat her like a tool. Instead, he had spoken to her like… family.

Her hand moved to her stomach. Family. Was that what she was becoming?

A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts. She sat up quickly. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Damian stepped inside.

Her breath caught. He looked different in the dim light, his shirt sleeves rolled, his hair slightly disheveled, his gray eyes darker than she had ever seen them.

He closed the door behind him and crossed the room, silent, steady. For a long moment, he simply looked at her, and the weight of his gaze made her pulse race.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, rough, stripped of its usual control. “I don’t want anyone else near you. Not now. Not ever.”

The words stole her breath.

They weren’t part of the contract. They weren’t about heirs or obligations. They were something else. Possessive. Dangerous. Almost tender.

Her heart pounded as his eyes locked with hers, and for the first time, Evelyn wondered if she was already too far gone to save herself.







          Chapter 41 – Breaking the Mask

“I don’t want anyone else near you. Not now. Not ever.”

They hung in the air, heavier than the silence that had filled Evelyn’s room moments before. Damian stood at the edge of her bed, his fists clenched at his sides, watching her eyes widen at the confession. He hadn’t meant to say it. He never lost control of his words. Not in the boardroom. Not in his father’s presence. Not with women.

But Evelyn wasn’t like anyone else.

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came. Her hand was pressed against the blanket over her stomach as though protecting the child already growing inside her. His child.

Damian’s gaze followed that hand, and something hot and primal twisted in his chest. Possession. Fear. Desire. All tangled into one dangerous rope threatening to strangle him.

He took a step closer, then stopped himself. Too close and he’d lose more than words. He’d lose the iron grip he’d built his entire life upon.

Her voice, when it finally came, was soft, trembling. “Why are you saying this?”

Damian exhaled slowly, dragging a hand across the back of his neck. “Because it’s true.”

He saw the way her eyes searched his face, looking for cracks, for meaning. But he offered her nothing more. He couldn’t. If he gave her everything that was clawing inside his chest, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to take it back.

He turned away, pacing toward the window, the dim lamplight throwing sharp angles across his reflection. He looked like a man cornered. And maybe he was.

“I should let you rest,” he said finally, his voice back under control, cool and clipped.

Evelyn didn’t answer. He didn’t need her to. The silence between them said enough—confusion, longing, fear. He left the room before he could betray himself again, the soft click of the door sounding far too final in his ears.

Damian stalked down the hallway, his pulse still erratic. He hadn’t felt this unsettled since his youth, back when his father’s expectations had weighed like chains. Back when emotions were punishable, weakness scorned.

Gregory’s voice echoed in his mind: Feelings make men foolish. Legacy demands steel.

He had believed it. Lived by it. And yet here he was, foolish as a boy, standing outside a woman’s door with his chest tight because of the way she had looked at him.

He should’ve gone back to his study, drowned himself in work, but he couldn’t. Not tonight. He needed air, distance. He went down to the terrace, the night wind cold against his face.

From here he could see the city lights stretching endlessly, a reminder of the empire he controlled. Blackwood Enterprises was unshakable. But he wasn’t sure he was anymore.

His phone buzzed. Damian pulled it from his pocket, expecting Reed with a report or perhaps Gregory checking in. Instead, his screen lit with a headline notification.

Vanessa Hart stuns in silk gown as whispers of Blackwood heir intensify.

Damian’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He opened the link, and there she was: Vanessa, radiant under camera flashes, one hand curved against her still-flat stomach, the other tossing her brunette hair back as she gave the press a coy smile. The article was full of speculation, lines fed from her lips disguised as gossip. Insiders say Hart has been spending intimate evenings with Blackwood. Friends claim the pregnancy is well-timed with his father’s heir ultimatum.

Lies. All of it.

He scrolled further, and his breath stilled when he saw the photo.

It wasn’t just Vanessa. It was him. An older shot, months ago, leaving a private dinner with her at his side. Cropped, captioned, twisted to fuel the story. To the world, it looked like intimacy. To the world, it looked like proof.

His thumb hovered over the call button. He wanted to hear her voice, to cut through the mess and remind her exactly who she was dealing with. But calling Vanessa in anger was like pouring gasoline over an open flame. She’d thrive on it.

Damian cursed under his breath and tossed the phone onto the table, pacing the terrace like a caged animal. He needed to contain this. Reed could manage the press, bury the worst of it. He’d make sure the rumors didn’t touch Blackwood Enterprises.

But what about Evelyn?

He pictured her face if she saw this headline. The doubt in her eyes. The way she already looked at him like she wasn’t sure she could trust him.

He closed his eyes, exhaling hard. Evelyn didn’t just matter because of the child. She mattered because somewhere along the way, she had become more than a contract, more than a condition set by Gregory’s rules.

And that terrified him.

The next morning, his fears sharpened.

Evelyn was at the breakfast table when he walked in, her hands curled around a mug of tea, her expression distant. A folded newspaper sat on the table in front of her, the bold headline visible even from across the room.

BLACKWOOD HEIR? VANESSA HART STEPS INTO THE SPOTLIGHT.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. She didn’t speak, didn’t accuse, but the hurt there was worse than any words.

Damian sat opposite her, his movements precise, his face unreadable. He wanted to tell her the truth—that Vanessa’s claim was a lie, that nothing she saw in the paper mattered. But the words stuck. He wasn’t a man who explained himself. He never had been.

And yet, watching Evelyn sit there, silent and wounded, he wanted to be.

“Don’t believe everything you read,” he said finally, his voice calm, controlled.

Evelyn’s lips curved faintly, but there was no humor in it. “That’s easy for you to say. It’s not your face in the papers, your name being dragged through whispers.”

Damian’s jaw tightened. He wanted to reach across the table, to touch her hand, to make her believe him. But he stayed still. Motionless.

Because if he reached for her now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go.

Later that day, his phone buzzed again. This time it was Reed, his lawyer and closest friend.

“You’ve got a problem,” Reed said without preamble. “Vanessa’s not just stirring gossip, she’s building a case. She’s waving that exclusivity clause like a sword. If she pushes this, it won’t just be society rumors. It’ll be legal.” 

Damian gripped the phone tighter. “Let her push.”

“You’re not understanding me,” Reed countered, voice sharp. “If she claims she’s carrying your child and points to that contract, you’ll be the one defending yourself in court. And if the press gets their hands on those documents, the board will start asking questions about the heir. About the company.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose, fury boiling under his skin. Vanessa had always been ambitious, but this, this was war.

Reed hesitated, then added, “And if Evelyn sees the clause, if she realizes what it implies… she might think you’re still hers.”

Damian’s stomach turned cold. Evelyn. He couldn’t let her be dragged into this mess. Not when she was already vulnerable, already carrying his child.

“I’ll handle Vanessa,” Damian said flatly.

“You’d better,” Reed muttered. “Before she burns everything down around you.”

That night, Damian stood once again outside Evelyn’s door. He didn’t knock this time. He didn’t go in. He stood there in the shadows, his hand hovering near the knob, listening to the faint sounds of movement inside.

He wanted to tell her everything. To promise her that Vanessa’s lies meant nothing. To admit that he wanted her, needed her, in ways he had no business confessing.

But the words stuck, as they always did.

Instead, he turned away, retreating into the darkness of the hall.

Behind him, in the silence of her room, Evelyn sat awake with the paper spread across her lap, staring at Vanessa’s smiling face and wondering how much of Damian’s heart she could ever truly hold.







          Chapter 42 – Pressure Mounts

                      Evelyn’s POV

The morning sun shone across the Blackwood estate in golden stripes, reflecting against the tall windows, but it felt harsh to Evelyn. Too sharp, too bright. She sat at the long breakfast table, staring at the spread the staff had laid out, steaming hot croissants, a silver pot of coffee, bowls of fresh fruit, and felt no hunger.

Her stomach growled instead.

The neatly folded newspaper lay directly in front of her, and though she’d tried to ignore it when the butler placed it down on the table quietly , the bold black headline drew her attention. 

“Vanessa Hart Flaunts Blackwood Heir?”

Evelyn’s eyes lowered to the glossy photo beneath the headline. Vanessa, radiant in a fitted emerald dress, her hand placed dramatically against her stomach, lips painted a shade of red. She posed like royalty, as if the cameras were her court, her kingdom.

A slow nausea worked its way through Evelyn’s body. She had told herself that Vanessa was lying, that all of it was a bluff, but seeing the photo in print made it feel real in a way words never could.

She reached for her coffee, her fingers trembling just enough to slightly shake the porcelain.

Carmen would have told her not to read it, not to give the gossip any power. Carmen’s voice, sharp but caring, echoed in her memory: “The truth doesn’t need a headline. Don’t let her win by believing her story.”

But Evelyn couldn’t stop herself.

The article was merciless, reporters speculating about Damian’s “mystery surrogate,” about Vanessa’s “long-standing connection to the Blackwoods,” about how the family empire needed an heir to secure its legacy.

Her throat tightened. Needed an heir.

She laid a hand on her stomach, the smallest instinctive gesture. She hadn’t told many people yet, only a few know that she's already carrying the heir — just Dr. Allen, Carmen, and Damian, and maybe Gregory, but already, the child inside her felt more real than anything Vanessa could claim.

But would anyone believe her?

Her eyes teared as she folded the newspaper closed, sliding it away from her as if it carried bad luck.

The soft thud of footsteps made her look up. Gregory Blackwood entered the breakfast room with the slow confidence of a man who had nothing to prove. His presence filled the space in a different way than Damian’s — not sharp edges, but quiet weight. Authority, carried lightly.

He wore a dark suit, as always, but without the usual stiffness. His tie hung loose, and he carried his coffee himself instead of letting staff trail behind him. Evelyn almost didn’t recognize him like this, relaxed, approachable.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep, measured.

Evelyn forced a nod. “Morning.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward the folded newspaper at her elbow, and then back to her face. He didn’t comment, but something in the faint tightening around his mouth told her he already knew what it said.

Gregory poured himself more coffee and sat at the far end of the table, leaving a polite distance. He stirred sugar into the dark liquid, clink, clink, clink, then set the spoon aside. His calmness irritated her at first, how could he be so steady when her insides felt like a storm? But then she realized it was exactly what she needed.

“You haven’t eaten,” Gregory said after a long silence, his gaze on the untouched plates in front of her.

“I’m not hungry,” Evelyn murmured.

“Not hungry,” he repeated softly, leaning back. “Or not able to swallow past the bile?”

Her head snapped up, startled at the bluntness.

He didn’t flinch under her stare. Instead, he sipped his coffee, watching her with an almost amused expression, like a man who’d seen this before and wasn’t going to play games.

“I know what it’s like,” he continued. “To wake up and find the world writing your story for you. To see your name dragged across papers, your reputation twisted by people who don’t care if it’s true, so long as it sells.”

Evelyn blinked at him. She hadn’t expected empathy. Certainly not from Gregory Blackwood, the man whose reputation was as fearsome as his wealth.

“You?” she asked quietly, doubt laced in the word.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Once, a long time ago. The details don’t matter anymore. What matters is that I learned something.”

Her voice was cautious, wary. “What?”

“That the only thing worse than gossip… is giving it power.”

He set down his coffee and leaned forward slightly, his eyes focused on her. “Eat something, Evelyn. Rest. Protect the child. Let the world scream itself hoarse, we know the truth, and that’s what matters.”

The unexpected kindness in his tone cracked something inside her. She looked down quickly, blinking hard. She didn’t want Gregory Blackwood to see her cry.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered, her fingers twisting in her lap. “Everywhere I look, she’s there. Vanessa. She makes it look so real.”

Gregory was silent for a moment. Then his voice came, calmer than she thought possible. “The louder a lie, the weaker its bones. Don’t forget that.”

Her chest tightened. For a moment, she wanted to believe him.

But later, when she strolled through the mansion halls to clear her head, his words began to unravel.

She stopped near the wide staircase, catching the faint sound of voices, two of the staff, hidden in a corner near the service door.

“She says she’s pregnant,” one whispered. “Vanessa. And not just to the papers. She has proof.”

Evelyn froze, every nerve in her body pulling hard. 

“Proof?” the second staff member asked, hushed.

“That’s what I heard. She showed someone a document. Said Damian signed something that ties him to her. If it’s true…”

Their voices faded as Evelyn’s heart roared in her ears.

Proof. Documents.

Her blood ran cold.

She pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself, her legs weak. The mansion spun around her, the elegant halls suddenly suffocating.

Gregory’s warm words, the comfort she’d felt at breakfast, shattered like thin glass.

Because if Vanessa had proof, then Evelyn’s truth, the tiny heartbeat inside her, what she had taken this risk for might not matter at all.

The world would believe Vanessa.

And Evelyn would be erased. And the child she's carrying too. 







          Chapter 43 – The Confrontation

                         Damian’s POV

The suite smelled faintly of orchids and expensive perfume, but Damian only registered it as another weapon Vanessa had chosen for tonight. Everything she did was calculated, the colourful lighting, the scent, the dress that shimmered like molten silver against her skin.

She was sitting when he arrived, legs crossed elegantly, a crystal glass of wine poised between her fingers as if she’d been rehearsing the role of the perfect temptress.

Damian didn’t slow down. He strode into the room, his presence cutting through the carefully arranged atmosphere like a blade. “You wanted to see me,” he said flatly, not bothering to sit.

Vanessa’s lips curved, slow and deliberate. “You came. That’s all that matters.” She tilted her head, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder. “I was starting to think you were hiding from me.”

Damian’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “You’ve made enough noise that hiding is impossible. The entire city thinks you’re carrying my child.”

Her smile widened. “And why shouldn’t they? Isn’t it the truth?”

His gray eyes sharpened. “You know it isn’t.”

She rose gracefully, setting the glass aside. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she walked toward him, every step a rehearsed seduction. When she stopped close enough for him to catch the perfume on her neck, she lifted her chin defiantly.

“I know the truth better than anyone, Damian.” She trailed her manicured nail down the lapel of his suit. “Do you remember our arrangement? Our agreement? You told me yourself — no other men. Exclusivity. I honored that. Which means if I’m pregnant—”

“You’re not,” he cut her off, voice like ice.

But Vanessa only laughed, low and throaty. “You can deny me all you want, but the contract speaks for itself. And so does the timing. Do you think the press will care what you say? Or that stinking surrogate of yours?” She spat the words like it was poison. “All they’ll see is that I obeyed you, while she… conveniently appears out of nowhere.”

Damian’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he refused to let her see more than a flicker of irritation. He had built his life on composure, on never allowing anyone to see the storm beneath.

But Vanessa… Vanessa always knew how to press the cracks.

“You think you can trap me with lies?” he said finally, voice low. “You think my father’s company, my legacy, can be manipulated with a stunt like this?”

Her green eyes glittered, but there was no humor in them. Only hunger. “You think I'd waste my time telling lies?, we've talked about this the last time you visited. Don’t call it a stunt. I gave you everything you wanted. No strings, no questions, no demands. I was there whenever you called. I never said no, Damian. Not once. Can Evelyn say the same?”

The mention of Evelyn lit something sharp and dangerous in his chest. He stepped closer, towering over Vanessa, his shadow falling across her like a warning. “Leave her out of this.”

Vanessa’s laugh was dry, jagged. “How can I, when she’s living in your mansion? When she’s walking your halls, breathing your air, stealing what should be mine?” Her hand pressed against her flat stomach. “She’s nothing compared to me. And if she’s pregnant, it won’t matter. I’ll make the world believe mine came first.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You’d go that far?”

She smiled, slow and venomous. “You still don’t understand, do you? This isn’t about you. This is about survival. I won’t go back to nothing. I won’t be forgotten. You made me exclusive, Damian. You bound me to you. And now… you don’t get to walk away.”

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm, but his thoughts burned. Evelyn, fragile and brave, carrying his heir, unaware of just how vicious the storm gathering around her could be. If Vanessa succeeded, if she convinced the world, Evelyn would be drowned in scandal before she even had the chance to breathe.

Vanessa tilted her head, watching him in silence. Then, with deliberate slowness, she pressed her body against his, hugging him, her lips grazing the line of his jaw. “It doesn’t have to be a war,” she whispered. “We were good together. Remember? The nights you couldn’t keep your hands off me? That wasn’t fake. That wasn’t business. That was real.”

Damian’s body went rigid, but he didn’t push her away. Not yet. He let her think she still had the power, because sometimes silence was the sharpest weapon.

Her hands slid down his chest, lingering at his waist. “One more night,” she breathed. “One more time, and I’ll give you the heir you need. Why gamble on a surrogate, when you know what I can give you myself?”

That broke his stillness. Damian’s hand shot up, gripping her wrist firmly. Not cruelly, but with enough force that she froze. His gray eyes were shards of steel when they locked onto hers.

“I don’t need anything from you, Vanessa. Not your lies, not your body, and not your schemes.” His voice was quiet, lethal. “Stay out of my life. Stay away from Evelyn.”

Her nose flared with anger, but she quickly masked it with a smirk. “You can’t erase me, Damian. I’m already part of the story. And if Evelyn thinks she can compete with me, she’s in for a rude awakening.”

Damian released her wrist and stepped back, adjusting his cufflinks as though brushing off the entire encounter. “This is your last warning. Don’t test me.”

Vanessa watched him walk to the door, her lips curling into a smile that sent a chill down his spine even as he left her behind.

Because Vanessa Hart wasn’t retreating.

She was planning.

And Damian knew, as the door shut behind him, that this was only the beginning of a war he hadn’t chosen but would have to fight.


Please Log In or Sign Up to continue reading.

No account? Sign Up

Unlock all Chapters with 3$

Proceed to payment to unlock all chapters and continue reading.

Tags:
Previous Post Next Post

You Might Like 😎

See All