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Chapter 2: A Contract Signed in Shadows
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2025-05-31 04:24:47The contract was sixty-two pages long.
Cold. Clinical. Thorough. It laid out everything from hormone treatments to delivery options to financial disbursement dates. No names. No history. No human warmth. Just transactions. Amara stared at it like it was a cliff edge. Her hands, still slightly clammy from earlier, hovered over the first page. Somewhere in the fine print, her identity was reduced to “biological vessel.” Her body, a line item. Her role, a means to an end. And that end was seated across from her. Liam Blackwood. The same man who had once whispered her name like it was poetry. The man who now didn’t even recognize her voice. He sat perfectly composed, his charcoal-gray suit pristine, not a wrinkle or thread out of place. He tapped his pen once, twice, then let it rest between his fingers like he was already bored. There was no hesitation in his expression. Just casual disinterest, like he was finalizing a new real estate acquisition, not negotiating the terms of fatherhood. “You’ve read the agreement?” he asked, voice flat and even. Amara nodded. “Yes.” Liam didn’t ask if she had questions. He didn’t offer her water. He didn’t ask her name. She reached for the pen. Line by line, she signed. Her signature curved neatly next to checkboxes and legalese that declared she had no parental rights, no post-delivery contact, and no emotional claim to the child growing inside her. Only once did her hand pause — on the clause outlining psychological evaluations. “In the event that the surrogate displays signs of emotional attachment…” it read. She blinked hard and signed anyway. "For the record," Liam said, as she handed back the pen, "I wasn’t originally planning to use a surrogate. I wanted to wait. But my mother’s condition is… progressing. She wants to meet her grandchild before the end of the year.” He said it without emotion. No crack in his voice. No grief. Just the cold precision of a man managing time like inventory. Amara said nothing. He didn’t know that her mother had died when she was thirteen. That her brother was fighting stage three lymphoma. That she’d spent the last four months choosing between overdue rent and food. Instead, she nodded. “You’ll receive the first payment within twenty-four hours,” he continued. “Your health insurance, housing stipend, and personal security detail will be arranged through my office.” “Personal security?” she repeated, startled. He finally looked at her — really looked. “You’ll be carrying a Blackwood heir. I don’t take chances.” The way he said it made her skin prickle. She looked back down at the signed contract. Her name now sat alongside his on the final page. It felt surreal. Final. Binding. “This is just a transaction,” she whispered to herself. He must’ve heard her. “Yes,” he said simply. “Exactly.” He rose to his feet and adjusted the cuff of his sleeve like the meeting had concluded. “My assistant will contact you with your schedule. I expect punctuality and discretion.” Amara stood too fast. Her knee bumped the edge of the table and her chair squeaked loudly as it scraped against the polished floor. Liam didn’t flinch. She hated that. He was already walking to the door when she blurted, “Wait.” He paused and turned slightly, one eyebrow raised. “Yes?” “You said you weren’t planning to use a surrogate. Why…” she hesitated. “Why me?” Liam tilted his head a fraction. For the first time, she saw something flicker in his eyes — interest? Calculation? It vanished too quickly to identify. “I trust Dr. Ahn’s judgment. She said your file stood out. Healthy. Quiet. No complications. Clean record.” He paused. “And you agreed not to ask questions.” Right. Of course. Because she was the ideal candidate on paper — not because she was a person, not because she once mattered. Amara forced a smile. “Of course.” He gave a curt nod and left without looking back. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence settled around her like a weight. She sat back down, suddenly exhausted. Her body folded forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table as she pressed her fingers to her forehead. This was real now. She had signed away every right to a child that hadn’t even been conceived yet. And the father—Liam—had no idea she had once meant something to him. That five years ago, they had tangled sheets and whispered names and shared something that, to her, had never stopped echoing. He didn’t remember. And she hadn’t reminded him. A buzzing sound broke the silence — her phone vibrating in her purse. Probably the hospital billing office again. Or her landlord. Or her brother asking if she had eaten. She didn’t check it. If she looked at anything right now, she might fall apart. Because the truth was this: she was walking into a lie and calling it salvation. She told herself it was just nine months. A heartbeat on loan. A second chance to rewrite the story for someone else, even if her chapter with Liam had ended before it ever began. But deep down, beneath the cool exterior she had forced herself to wear, Amara knew this wouldn’t stay clean. Not with Liam. Not with her history. And definitely not with a secret this big.
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Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 37: Storm Glass
Max’s breathing was shallow but even, his eyelids twitching lightly under sedation. Amara sat beside him, her fingers threaded loosely with his. The hospital room felt like a bubble—too sterile, too still, too far removed from the chaos her life had quietly become.Liam leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. He hadn’t told her about the call from Sebastian. He wasn’t even sure how to. There was a protective fury inside him, and it was growing louder each day.“His color’s better,” Amara murmured without looking up.“Yeah,” Liam said. “Dr. Alain said they’ll repeat the labs tomorrow. If the markers hold, he might be able to sit up by the weekend.”She nodded, then finally turned to him. “You didn’t sleep.”“No.”A pause stretched between them.“He’s still watching us, isn’t he?” she asked softly.Liam didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yeah. I’m sure of it.”Amara swallowed. “I don’t want to live like
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 36: The Fire Beneath the Silence
The sun filtered through the apartment windows, soft and golden. It painted the room in warmth, but Amara couldn’t feel it. She moved through the morning in silence—making tea, opening windows, letting the light in as if that alone would sweep away the weight lodged in her chest.Liam watched her from the doorway. Something in the way she avoided his eyes told him everything he needed to know—she was trying to bury something. He’d seen it before. With clients, with strangers. But this was different. This was her.“Amara,” he said gently, “talk to me.”She looked up, startled. “I am talking.”“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re performing.”She exhaled, shoulders slumping. “What do you want me to say?”“That you trust me. That whatever’s chasing you inside your head doesn’t have to stay there.”Amara turned back to the window. “I thought I was over him.”Silence.Liam didn’t ask who.“I thou
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 35: The Quiet Between Storms
Amara lay still long after Liam’s breathing evened out beside her. The warmth of his body was real, anchoring, but her mind floated elsewhere—backward, inward. Eight weeks. She was eight weeks pregnant. The number rang in her chest like a tolling bell, marking time she hadn’t realized she’d lost. Or maybe—stolen.She rolled slowly onto her back, her palm flattening over her abdomen. Barely a swell, yet the weight of it felt immense. It wasn’t just a baby. It was a decision. A tether. A living consequence of everything she had run from, and toward.The memory was a ghost with claws. Sebastian’s hands on her thighs. The cold floor. His voice rough, commanding. “You’re not keeping that baby. You either choose me or you lose everything.” He’d said it with such calm certainty, like he was offering an ultimatum with a ribbon on top.At the time, she had believed she needed to hear him out. One last confrontation. One final severing of ties. But she’d been wrong.
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 34: The Grip That Burned
The dream came uninvited.It always did.Amara was back in that dark loft apartment, high above Rue Montmartre, draped in shadows and red silk sheets. Candlelight flickered against the exposed brick walls. The scent of bergamot and firewood clung to her skin. And he was there.Sebastian.She felt his presence before she saw him—like a storm rolling in. His voice was a low, velvet thread in the back of her mind, tugging at her spine."You always look better when you’re unsure," he whispered, stepping from behind her, shirt unbuttoned, gaze unrelenting. "Let me help you remember what it means to belong to someone."Her breath caught. Not in fear. Not in anticipation. In something murkier. That cocktail of desire and danger that had always drawn her to him.In the dream, she didn’t resist.His hands gripped her wrists. Bound them behind her back with that black silk tie he always wore like a promise. He kissed her neck, slow and searing, and whispered things that made her knees weaken. H
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 33: The Shadow Behind the Glass
Tessa woke with a pounding headache and the overwhelming sense that something wasn’t adding up. The chill of the holding cell, the sterile quiet of the precinct, the fragmented memory of the accident—it all felt like a dream stitched together with faulty thread.She sat up on the bench, brushing hair from her eyes, when something clicked. The phone call.The hospital call.She hadn’t asked Amara if she confirmed it. The doctor. The seizure. Max.Had Amara even verified it?Before the thought could settle, Elliot appeared at the door. He looked worn.“You’re being released pending investigation. The footage and witness reports are… complicated.”Tessa blinked. “Complicated how?”He stepped in, voice low. “The victim had no ID. No digital footprint. No confirmed residence.”“Wait, what?”“It’s like he didn’t exist.”Tessa’s mouth went dry.---Across town, Amara sat at Max’s bedside rereading her call log.The call from Saint-Pierre Hospital—the one that pulled her from her guesthouse a
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 32: Threads Unraveled
Late that night, Amara found herself wide awake in her Paris guesthouse. Rain pattered against the window, a soft drumroll that matched the thrum in her chest. She’d spent the afternoon at Max’s bedside—short visits, hushed updates, assurances that he was stable. But her mind kept drifting back to Tessa in custody, Elliot’s restrained presence, and Liam's unwavering support.She reached for her sketchbook, fingers hovering over the blank page. Her pencil pressed in, forming the first delicate line—a heartbeat drawn in charcoal, jagged and anxious.Her phone buzzed:Liam (Paris): Can you meet me at Rue des Martyrs? 10 AM. Need to show you something.Amara’s breath caught. She replied: Yes. Heartbeats later, she fell into a fitful sleep.---Morning arrived damp and soft. Amara met Liam at a quiet café across from the old bookstore on Rue des Martyrs. He wore the same black sweater from the hospital like a talisman.He didn’t speak at first—only slid a small, unmarked envelope across th
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