Chapter 4 - the contract
1247 Words
Paige POV
My life was now a meaningless structure, a hopeless field that has lost every meaning to why it even existed in the first place.
And I caused it. If I didn't open my filthy mouth to complain, maybe Ethan would still be by my side. Maybe we won't divorce each other at all.
We suddenly pulled into a gated driveway, and my jaw nearly dropped.
Villa wasn't the word to describe it, it was a damn castle.
Modern, sleek and glowing under golden outdoor lights. The place screamed money…old money. It was magnificent.
I turned to him, side eyed, but he was already getting out of the car.
I know I wasn't supposed to be this shock but I couldn't help but be. I immediately regained my composure following him inside.
A man dressed in a black suit opened the door for us before we even reached it.
“ Make sure she's comfortable,” he instructed the butler , already walking away.
The butler gave a nod and gestured for me to follow.
We both walk upstairs into a room, maids already positioned in front, ready to attend to my needs.
After a very comfortable bath and makeover that made me look less of a rejected nobody, a maid told me that I was needed by her young master, she said in his study.
Of course with her help I located it and entered the brightly lit room. Sitting across the wealthy stranger with an uncomfortable silence stretched between us, he dropped a piece of paper on the table.
“I'll get straight to the point,” he said, staring at me with those Icy blue eyes I can't seem to get used to. “ I have a proposition for you”
I sat up straighter, feeling the tension creeping into the room. My eyes darted to the paper he slid across the table between us
I didn’t touch it right away.
Something about the way he looked at me—calm, cold, and unreadable—made me feel uneasy that I squinted on the chair.
“What kind of proposition?” I asked, voice flat, trying not to sound scared or desperate. Even though, deep down, I was both.
He didn’t answer. Not at first.
He just nodded toward the paper.
"Look at it."
I hesitated, then reached for the document with shaky fingers. My eyes scanned the words, line by line, but my brain refused to process any of it until I hit the part that sucker-punched the air right out of my lungs.
Surrogacy.
My hand dropped the paper like it was on fire. “What the hell?” I breathed, eyes wide. “You want me to… carry your child?”
He simply nodded, stretching out his hands on the sofa, his legs crossed.
“ I won't do it ”
“ Why?”
I looked down with tears welling up in my eyes. Even though I wanted to, I didn't have the ability to give birth.
Ethan made sure of that.
“You’ll do,” he said simply. No additions, no subtraction.
I looked up at him, dropping the paper on the table. “You don’t even know me.”
He looked up then, locking eyes with me.
“i know more than enough there needs to be about you”
“you don't understand.” My mind stuttered, confused and weirdly creeped out. “ I can't have your child even if I wanted to.”
“I had someone look into you.”
I blinked. Once. Twice. My stomach dropped.
“What?”
He leaned forward, folding his hands with a stern expression on his face. “I know about the divorce. About Ethan. About your sister and best friend.”
I felt like I’d been slapped.
“You had someone... spy on me?”
“Background check,” he said, too casually. “Standard for what I’m offering.”
“You invaded my personal space without my permission.”
His expression didn’t change. “ You can call it whatever you want but you don't expect me to not know anything about the person I take home.”
I sighed a little bit confused and curious.
“I don’t get it,” I said quietly. “Why do you need a surrogate? You’re rich. You could have any woman you want. This—this doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t want just any woman,” he said. “I want someone who has nothing left to lose. Someone who won’t form attachments. Someone who wants a way out.”
A laugh burst out of me, bitter and cold. Not at him but at myself. A very correct truth. That was what my life had become. It's just that hearing it from someone else's mouth made it so surreal.
“You want revenge, don’t you?”
I looked up sharply.
“What?”
“this is your chance to get back up and get everything you've lost.” He said.
“You help me,” he continued, voice low and deep, persuasive, like a devil making a deal, “and I’ll help you. No strings. Once the baby’s born, you walk away. New name. New home. Money. Freedom.”
My fingers twitched.
It was insane.
Completely, wildly insane.
“ Don't you get it, I can't have a child. My womb was damaged during the abortion”
He looked at me as if I had just spoken gibberish then turned to grab a second brown envelope.
“ Open it”
And I did. Once my eyes scanned the paper it widened in shock. What the hell was j looking at.
“ I got the file from the hospital you did the abortion from and found out you were made to believe things falsely by your husband.” He said, “ You can have children Paige.”
I instantly felt a hard blow in my chest. All these years I was made to believe that I couldn't give birth , but why?
Why would Ethan lie about that kind of stuff and go on having one with my sister?
I stared immensely at the contract paper, anger and hatred surged in me. For five years I had been deceived by the ones I loved and cherished.
I had nothing. No job. No friends. No future. My name was already dirt in the places I used to call home. If I went back, I’d be the woman who got dumped, lost everything, and begged for scraps.
But this? This felt like… maybe not redemption, but a restart.
A twisted, morally complicated restart.
My voice was hoarse when I finally spoke. “And after I give birth… you’re done with me? No strings attached?”
He nodded once.
“No strings or attachments,” he repeated.
I stared at the paper. I hadn’t read all of it, but I’d seen enough. The compensation alone could set me up for a long time. Hell, even a short time would be better than where I was now.
I reached for the pen next to the contract, but paused, my hand hovering over the paper.
“I think before I sign away my body for the next nine months,” I said dryly, “I
should at least know the name of the man I’m selling it to.”
His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close.
“Raymond Blackwood.”
The hell, no.
- Writer
