chapter six
1147 Words
**POV Helena Stoones**
"God, is this really necessary?" I muttered, gritting my teeth as the woman pulled the last piece of hot wax off my skin. The pain was unbearable, and the humiliation even worse.
I had spent hours being prepared as if I were a piece of meat about to be served at a banquet. First, they forced me into a huge bathtub filled with rose petals and essential oils.
"Mr. Blackwood loves the scent of raspberries," one of the women commented, rubbing my arm for the thousandth time.
When the torture finally ended, I was left alone, wrapped in a white towel that barely covered my breasts.
"Hey, where are you going?" I asked, watching the maids hurry down the hallway.
A tall, intimidating man waited for them. He turned to them with an impatient expression.
"Is she ready?"
The women nodded and carried my clothes away.
He approached me, his eyes scanning my body coldly. "Come with me."
I held the towel tightly, my heart racing. As I followed him through the mansion’s endless hallways, my mind couldn’t process what was happening. The surrounding opulence was suffocating, the chandeliers sparkling like jewels above us, but all I could feel was the weight of the trap closing in around me.
"Mr. Blackwood is arriving. " Sit and wait," he ordered as he opened the door to a luxurious office.
I stepped inside hesitantly, my feet touching the soft carpet. Before I could take a deep breath, I heard a deep, unmistakable voice from the other side of the door.
"Don’t worry, all he needs to do is use her."
My throat went dry. That voice. Paul Blackwoold entered next, accompanied by another man. He exuded arrogance and power, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Beside him was a tall man with severe features and light brown eyes that seemed to strip me with just a look.
Paul threw a white envelope onto the desk and gave a cynical smile.
"Can you read?"
"Obviously. What do you think I am?" I retorted sarcastically.
"A woman who will carry our heir, plain and simple," the other man, Tyler, responded for the first time.
Paul ignored my indignant stare and opened the contract, pointing to the clauses as if explaining a business deal.
"Over the next nine months, you will stay in this house. You will follow a strict diet, receive exclusive medical care, and, of course, you will not be allowed to leave without permission."
"But I go to college and work! " My father needs me..." I protested, my voice trembling. My mind spun as I thought of my father’s condition. Without the bar, without health... he was completely ruined.
Paul shrugged, as if all that was insignificant. "With what you’re going to earn, your father will be fine." He pointed to a clause. "Eighty thousand."
"Eighty thousand for nine months?" I asked, incredulous. It was a lot of money, enough to change our entire lives.
"Per month," Tyler corrected, his voice as cold as a blade. His eyes never left mine, and the intensity of his gaze made me feel like prey, cornered.
Paul continued, "From now on, you are officially my son’s fiancée. You will have no contact with friends, family, or anyone else. Your only priority will be this child and the Blackwoold family. After the birth, you and your father will go to another country, chosen by us."
With each word, the weight of the contract grew heavier. They were taking everything from me, and in return, offering me a fortune—but at what cost?
"Is there anything else I should know?" I asked, swallowing hard as I signed the first pages of the contract. My heart pounded in my chest. They wouldn’t let me read the rest, and I had no choice. Saving my father was more important than anything.
Paul leaned back in his chair, a cold smile on his lips. "Yes. If the baby is a girl, you will have to abort." He said this without hesitation, pushing the contract forward and pointing to the clause on the seventh page.
"What?" My voice came out shaky but filled with indignation. "This is absurd! I won’t abort a child just because it’s a girl. She’s just as much your child as a boy. She doesn’t deserve to die for that!"
Paul laughed, a low and cutting sound that made me shudder. "Women are not suited for the kind of work our family does." He grabbed a cigarette from the dresser and lit it calmly, as if we were discussing the weather. "They are weak, emotional, and, worse, they can have illegitimate children who threaten our lineage. Men, on the other hand, are strong, loyal, and ensure that the Blackwoold legacy remains intact."
"That's sick," I muttered, clenching my fists on the table.
"You're not here to give your opinion," Paul retorted. Unregistered babies should be discarded. " We don’t want anyone showing up years later with a DNA test and claiming our empire."
"I'll keep the child if it's a girl," I declared, my voice firm.I will take her away from all of this. I'll tell her her father died. She will never know anything about you. She will only be mine."
Paul ignored me, as if my proposal was insignificant. "After the child is born, you’ll have five days at most. Enough time to breastfeed her until we find a wet nurse. After that, you’ll leave."
My throat went dry as I heard those words. It felt as if he were describing an animal, not a baby.
When I finished signing the contract, Paul stood up, taking the papers. "I’ll send this to legally." He left without looking back, leaving me alone with Tyler.
The silence that settled was suffocating. Tyler had hardly said anything during the whole negotiation, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He was watching me intently, his light brown eyes seeming to pierce my soul. There was something disturbing about that intensity, something that made me want to pull the towel covering my body even higher.
"Are you a virgin?" His question came out of nowhere, cutting through the silence like a blade. His voice was deep, but there was a veiled curiosity, almost... obsessive.
I blinked, surprised and indignant. "What? That’s none of your business!"
He leaned slightly forward, his eyes fixed on me as if analyzing every reaction of mine. "It is. I want to know if you've been with another man before me."
"Does it matter?" I responded, trying to keep my composure while my heart raced.
"It matters," he said simply, not breaking eye contact. "I want to know exactly what I’m taking to bed."
The coldness of his words made my skin crawl, but what unsettled me more was the gleam in his eyes.
- Writer
