Chapter 2: His Rules, Her Fear
844 Words
Ava didn't cry until she was in the elevator.
Not when she walked out of Damien's penthouse.
Not when he'd threatened her brother's life with that cold tone.
Not even when she became aware that her body was still sore from what they'd done.
But as soon as the elevator doors closed and she caught a glimpse of herself—disheveled, hollow-eyed, broken—she fell apart.
Scalding tears streamed down her face as she gripped the metal railing behind her, choking back the sob welling up in her throat. How had everything gone so horribly wrong?
She was supposed to be sedated for a medical procedure. That was the deal. No face-to-face contact. No names. No touching.
But instead of waking up in a recovery room… she woke up beside Damien Hart, the man who now had her future clutched in his firm fist.
Twelve Hours Earlier.
Ava had sat in the hospital hallway, clutching her little brother Liam's hand as he slept beneath a faded blanket.
The heart monitor beeped steadily, a cruel reminder that time was slipping away.
They require the deposit by Friday," the nurse had said. "No operation without it."
Ava had tried everything. Two jobs, night shifts, even sold their mother's wedding ring.
It wasn't enough.
That's when the private fertility agency called. "We have a well-paid surrogacy offer. Discretion necessary. No emotional involvement. Are you still interested?"
Desperation made her agree.
And now here she was—shaken, humiliated, and scared out of her wits.
Back to the Present…
Later that morning, Ava sat on the edge of Liam's hospital bed, the storm of emotions inside her struggling to be concealed behind a smile.
He shifted weakly. "Hey, sis… "
"Hey, sleepyhead," she replied, brushing his curly brown hair with her hand. "I brought you apple juice."
Liam gave her a weak smile. "You look… odd. Like you've seen a ghost."
A faint laugh escaped her. "Maybe I have."
But inside, her chest felt like lead.
If I'm pregnant… how am I going to make it through the next nine months in his shadow?
Meanwhile, Across the City…
Damien Hart stood in front of his floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the city like a predator eyeing his prey.
He hadn't slept since Ava left.
That night was never meant to happen. The surrogate was never meant to meet him—let alone end up in his bed.
But here he was, replaying the feel of her skin, the heat of her mouth, the feral look in her eyes when she fled his apartment.
He clenched his teeth.
A mistake, yes. But a dangerous one.
He snatched up the phone.
"Trace everything," he snarled to his head of security. "I want full surveillance on Ava Lane. No errors. If she talks, I want to know."
"Yes, sir," the man replied.
Damien slammed down the phone and hung up.
This wasn't lust. This was control.
The last time he'd lost control, someone had died.
He wouldn't let that happen again.
Back at the Hospital…
Ava compulsively checked her phone. No calls. No messages. But her heart wouldn't settle.
She felt like she was being watched.
She scanned the waiting room, eyes probing every corner. A suit near the vending machine. A woman on the phone who looked up too quickly.
Was Damien really having her followed?
"Miss Lane?" a nurse called.
She stood, nerves jumping.
"We did your blood work. The results are back."
Ava's breath caught.
The nurse handed her a sealed envelope. "We recommend that you read it in private. If you have any questions, the doctor will explain."
Ava thanked her, took the envelope, and stepped into the hospital restroom.
Her hands trembled as she broke the seal.
Positive.
She was pregnant.
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the cold tile floor, the paper falling from her hand.
It was true.
She was pregnant with Damien Hart's child.
One Week Later…
Ava tried to sever all communication with Damien. She ignored the follow-up emails from the clinic. She ignored a black car that seemed to tail her after every shift. She even started sleeping at a friend's apartment on the other side of town.
But it was not enough.
One evening, she returned to her temporary apartment and found an envelope slipped under the door.
Her name in bold black ink.
Inside, a photo.
A picture of Liam—leaving the hospital, alone.
And underneath it:
“Control your mouth, or I’ll control your brother’s future.” – D.H.
Her heart nearly stopped.
It wasn’t just surveillance. It was a threat.
Her hands clenched the paper.
She’d made a deal with the devil. And now, she was chained to him—by blood, by fear, and by something far more dangerous.
A growing child.
>Ava grabbed her phone, called the one number she promised she never would.
"Damien Hart," he said icily.
Her words trembled as she barely whispered, "I'm pregnant."
Silence.
Then a low, deadly response.
"Good. Now return. You belong to me now."
- Writer
