SURROGATE BY ACCIDENT

Chapter 4

The pen felt heavier than it should. Just an ordinary black pen, sleek and polished, resting against the edge of a stack of papers that could change everything.

The contract.

Pages and pages of legal language, clauses about compensation, medical care, living arrangements, confidentiality. Words that blurred together, their weight pressing against my chest until I could barely breathe.

“Is there a problem?” Alexander’s voice pulled me back.

He sat across the table, impossibly composed in a tailored navy suit, his storm-gray eyes locked on me with unyielding intensity. His world was polished mahogany and glass, the conference room on the top floor of Knight Industries’ tower overlooking the city below. I felt small here, like I’d wandered into a life that wasn’t mine and somehow couldn’t leave.

I lowered the pen, my hands trembling. “It just… it feels wrong. Signing away my life like this.”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “You’re not signing away your life. You’re securing your future. And the child’s.”

His words made my stomach twist. The child. Not our child. Not even my pregnancy. Just the child—an heir, an extension of his empire.

I wanted to scream. But instead, I forced myself to ask, “And what happens when it’s over? When the baby’s born?”

His gaze didn’t flicker. “You’ll be compensated. You’ll walk away. And I’ll raise my child.”

Walk away. As if it were that easy.

My chest tightened. “What if I can’t just walk away?”

Something flickered in his eyes then. A flash of something raw, something almost vulnerable. But it vanished before I could name it.

“You’ll walk away,” he said quietly.

Silence stretched between us. The city glittered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, cold and distant.

Finally, with a shaky breath, I picked up the pen. My name trembled across the final page. Elena Carter.

It was done.

The pen clicked as I set it down, the sound echoing like a gavel in a courtroom.

“Good,” Alexander said softly, his voice unreadable. “I’ll have your things moved into the mansion by tonight.”

My heart stuttered. “Wait—tonight?”

“Yes.” His gaze swept over me, assessing. “You’ll be safer there.”

“Safer from what?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He didn’t answer.

---

By nightfall, I was standing in the foyer of Alexander Knight’s mansion with a single suitcase by my feet.

The driver had unloaded it with mechanical precision, then disappeared without a word, leaving me alone in the cavernous space. The chandeliers glittered overhead, casting golden light across the marble floor. Every surface gleamed, spotless, cold.

It felt less like a home and more like a museum.

And now it was mine.

“Miss Carter.”

I turned at the sound of his voice. Alexander descended the staircase with the kind of presence that filled every inch of the room. He wasn’t in a suit now. He wore a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark trousers that hinted at the strength beneath the polish.

For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

Gone was the cold CEO with his contracts and clipped words. This version of him was stripped down, rawer, more dangerous.

My pulse fluttered. I hated that it did.

“You’ll find your room upstairs,” he said, his tone smooth but distant. “Third door on the left. Everything you need has already been arranged.”

I nodded stiffly, gripping the handle of my suitcase. “Thank you.”

I moved toward the stairs, my footsteps echoing in the silence, but his voice stopped me.

“Elena.”

The sound of my name on his lips froze me. Slowly, I turned.

His gaze pinned me in place. “This house can feel… overwhelming. Don’t wander off at night.”

I frowned. “Why? Are there monsters lurking in the halls?”

His lips curved—just barely. “Something like that.”

And then he turned, vanishing into the shadows of the house.

---

My room was bigger than my entire apartment. A four-poster bed draped in ivory sheets, silk curtains pooling at the floor, a balcony overlooking the city skyline. A walk-in closet already stocked with clothes in my size—clothes I hadn’t chosen.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers tracing the expensive fabric of the comforter. It felt unreal. Like I’d stepped into someone else’s life.

But the silence pressed in around me, heavy and suffocating.

I kicked off my shoes and wandered to the balcony, pushing open the glass doors. The night air rushed in, cool against my skin. The city stretched endlessly below, lights glittering like stars.

Somewhere down there, Marcus was probably with Sophie. Laughing. Kissing. Living the life I thought was mine.

My chest ached, but then I remembered Alexander’s eyes, the way they’d burned into me when I signed the contract.

I hated him.

And yet… I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

---

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep.

The bed was too soft, the room too quiet. My mind wouldn’t stop racing. I padded barefoot into the hall, the marble floor cool against my skin. The mansion was dark, shadows stretching across the walls.

I should have gone back. I should have listened. But curiosity tugged me forward.

Down the hall. Around the corner. Past the grand staircase.

That’s when I heard it—low, rhythmic, the sound of fists striking leather.

I followed the noise to a door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, I found myself staring into a private gym.

And there he was.

Alexander.

Sweat slicked across his skin as he drove his fists into a heavy bag, each strike sharp, controlled, brutal. His shirt was gone, tossed carelessly across a bench, leaving his chest bare, muscles flexing with every movement.

My breath caught.

This was not the polished billionaire from the magazines. This was a man stripped down to raw power, to scars etched across his ribs, to darkness carved into his body as much as his soul.

I should have turned away. I should have left before he saw me.

But I didn’t.

And when his gaze finally snapped to mine, storm-gray locking onto me with lethal precision, my heart slammed against my ribs.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low, husky from exertion.

Heat rushed through me. “I… I was just—”

“Curious.” He wiped his face with a towel, his movements slow, deliberate. “Dangerous habit.”

I swallowed hard, unable to look away from the sweat dripping down his chest, the sharp lines of his muscles, the faint scar that curved along his collarbone.

“Go back to bed, Elena,” he said quietly, stepping closer, the air thickening between us. “Before you find yourself in deeper than you can handle.”

My pulse thundered. My body ached with something I didn’t want to name.

I turned and fled back to my room, my breath ragged, my skin burning.

But even in the safety of my bed, I couldn’t escape the echo of his voice, the image of his body, the way my name sounded when he said it.

I had signed the contract.

But the real danger… had only just begun.