The Billionaire's Secret Baby Contract

l had no choice. Keep telling yourself that, I thought, standing stiffly outside the massive glass building of Blackwood Enterprises, my fingers digging into fists to keep my hands from trembling. I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t want to be here. But life had a cruel way of squeezing you into a corner until there was nowhere left to turn. My brother, Julian, lay in a hospital bed, counting the days he had remaining unless we raised the money for his surgery. My rent was late, and my art only sold for enough to buy a cup of coffee. I had fought as hard as I could, but the world didn’t care about fighters—it cared about survivors. And this? This was the only way I could be alive. I took a deep breath and walked up. The guards at the entrance barely gave me a second look before allowing me to pass, but I saw the slightest flicker of suspicion across their faces. I didn’t fit in a place like this—high ceilings, marble floors, walls of glass that made the outside world feel even more like a distant memory. I squeezed the folder in my hands, the words Surrogacy Contract feeling like they were seared into my palm. "You lost, sweetheart?" That deep voice sent a chill down my spine. I turned and froze. Damon Blackwood. I recognized him instantly. Everyone did. He was the sort of man who owned the world and knew it. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and those piercing, ice-blue eyes that you could feel cutting through you. He wore a fine black suit that looked criminally expensive, and he gazed down at me like I was something he didn’t know if he wanted to get his hands on. I straightened myself up, swallowed the lump in my throat. "I—I have an appointment." His brow raised, only the slightest bit. "With?" I opened my mouth, and shut it back again. I didn’t know. It just had an address, instructions, and, frighteningly, a huge sum of money in return for nine months of my life. “You don’t even know, do you?” His lips curved, though there was no mirth in it. Heat burned my cheeks. "I—" "Let me guess," he drawled. “Desperate, no family to call back on, would sell yourself to get out?” His words hit me like a knife. I sucked in a sharp breath. “You know nothing about me.” Damon took a step closer. I had to lean my head back to continue looking him in the face, but I refused to step away. "I know enough," he murmured. The way he said it gave my stomach a clench. He wasn’t simply talking to me—he was reading me. Like I was a puzzle he was already putting together. I hated it. I hated him. But I needed him. I straightened my shoulders and made myself hold his icy gaze. “I signed the contract,” I said, trying to sound as strong as I could. “So are you going to respect it or not?” Damon looked at me long and hard. Then, to my surprise, he smirked. “You don’t know what you just got yourself into.” And just like that, my fate was sealed. --- Caught in a Gilded Cage I should have walked away. I realized this the instant I walked into the penthouse, my breath hitching at the sheer size of the place. It wasn’t merely big—it felt like entering another world. Floor-to-ceiling windows presented views of the city, pricey art lined the walls, and everything was so pristine, so buffed, I was afraid to breathe too deeply. Damon hovered near me, eyes unreadable. “This will be home until the baby is born,” he said easily. My stomach twisted. “So I’m just a prisoner, really?” His expression didn’t change. "You agreed to this." I clenched my fists. "I agreed to carry a child. Not to be shoved away like some filthy little secret!” Damon’s jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought he was going to get mad at me, but then his eyes changed. “You’re pregnant with my baby,” he said, his voice now lower, more dangerous. “And you don’t do risky things with your own.” My breath caught. Something about the way he said it—like I belonged to him, like he’d already made up his mind about how this was all going to go—sent a rush of heat through my body. “I’m not yours,” I whispered, even though my pulse was betraying me. Damon smirked. "We’ll see about that." And just like that, I knew. It was like having entered a game without knowing the rules. And Damon Blackwood? He never lost. I swallowed hard, turned, and walked away, seeking some order to my thoughts. This was not part of the contract. I knew there would be rules, but I didn’t expect to be caged like some delicate doll. And yet, here I was. I breathed in and struggled to concentrate. "Where will I be sleeping?" Damon pointed down the hall. “We have a suite ready for you. You have everything you need. Clothes, toiletries—anything you ask for will be provided.” I frowned. "Anything?" He gave a slow, amused nod. "Within reason." I crossed my arms, the fight rising inside me. "Then I want to go outside." His smirk disappeared. "No." My chest bubbled with frustration. “You can’t keep me here like a prisoner.” Damon’s expression darkened, his tone level yet forceful. "You signed a contract, Emilia. You agreed to my terms. And that means that, until this child is born, you will remain where I can keep an eye on you.” My heart jackhammered as I sucked in a shaky breath. "And if I refuse?" His lips turned up a fraction, but there was no amusement in his face. "Then we have a problem." Silence hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I knew what he was doing—asserting control, reminding me that he was in charge. And the worst part? It was working. Damon Blackwood was the type of man who always got what he wanted. And right now? He wanted me under his thumb. I raised my chin, willed my eyes to meet him. “I might have signed your contract, but that doesn’t mean that I am yours.” Damon moved closer, his presence consuming. “You keep saying that to yourself, babe.” And then I realized something pretty terrifying. I wasn’t only trapped in his penthouse. I was trapped in his world. And there was no way out.