CHAPTER 5: THE SURVIVAL GAME

Once again, the room fell into a bone-chilling silence. Just as Alma managed to catch enough breath to speak, Aiden—still with his back to her—spoke first, his cold voice cutting off any chance of her finding her words.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Aiden turned around slowly. He brushed past her as if she were thin air, casually picking up the file on the desk and tossing it into a drawer, locking it with a sharp, dry click. He adjusted his cufflinks and blazer, his composed demeanor suggesting her presence was now merely a redundant part of the room.

“I don't like hesitation. The woman who carries the heir to this lineage cannot be a coward who trembles before her only choice.” He looked up, his icy gaze sweeping over her pale face. “Remember, I am not forcing you, Alma. If you find your pride worth more than escaping your current mire, you may leave right now.”

Aiden turned his back to her again to face the darkness shrouding the city beyond the glass wall. His voice rang out with indifference: “That door isn't locked. Walk out of here, and you can keep your dignity, but you will also return to the reality you are fleeing from. I don't have the habit of negotiating twice with someone who doesn't know how to seize an opportunity. I will find someone else... someone who understands the value of money better than you do.”

Alma stood stunned, her legs feeling as though they might give way. His dismissal was like a bucket of ice water poured directly onto the smoldering fire of her self-respect. She looked at Aiden’s solitary yet powerful silhouette, then down at her own thin, rough hands.

He had just put a price on her, insulted her, and now, before she could even fight back, he had callously cast her aside like a defective object.

Where could she go?

Back to that damp, cramped rented room? To hide from the contemptuous glares and the poverty that had besieged her for the past five years? Or to continue toiling until exhaustion, only to watch every meager cent she earned be swallowed by endless interest and mounting hospital bills?

She took a step back, her trembling hand reaching for her bag, accidentally touching her phone screen as it lit up.

A notification from the hospital appeared—brief but cruel:

"Overdue Warning: The patient's hospital fees are 3 days late. If payment is not settled by 8:00 AM tomorrow, we will be forced to suspend intensive support equipment. We hope the family resolves this soon."

The words blurred before Alma’s eyes. Suspend support equipment? That wasn’t a notification; it was a death sentence.

For five years, she had lived like a hollow shell, skulking in debt and the scorn of those who used to kneel at her family's feet. If she walked out of that door today for the sake of so-called "dignity," her father would die, and she would forever be a pathetic failure under the heel of fate.

A hot surge of anger and desperation raced down Alma’s spine. She did not leave. Instead, she took a deep breath, clenching her teeth so hard they ached. Her humiliation had now transformed into a razor-sharp weapon.

Aiden remained motionless, eyes fixed on the infinite night outside the glass wall. He held his breath, waiting for the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor—the sound of her breaking and leaving in resentment, just as he had anticipated.

But it didn't come.

"You're right, Aiden Power."

Alma's voice rang out, no longer trembling, but filled with a strange steeliness that tore through the heavy atmosphere. Aiden stiffened. His eyebrows knitted slightly, but he still didn't turn around, as if trying to discern whether this was truly the same weak girl he had just insulted.

Alma walked straight to his desk. Without asking permission, she slammed both heavy hands onto the polished dark wood surface, staring intently at his back.

"Dignity doesn't pay hospital bills, and pride won't help me get justice." She gritted out every word, her breath ragged. "I accept this deal. I will bear you a child—no status, no interference. My soul... you can take it."

Only then did Aiden slowly turn around. His gaze met emerald eyes that were burning with a fire of hatred—a light he had never seen in the gentle girl of fifteen years ago.

"But in addition to that money, I have one condition." Alma leaned forward, directly confronting the pressure radiating from him. "I want you to use the power of the Power empire to help me take back what I’ve lost. I want the people who trampled me into the black mud to kneel before me."

She looked directly into his deep, dark eyes, the smile on her lips now carrying the madness of someone with nothing left to lose.

"I am selling my body so you can have an heir; in return, you must be the sword with which I claim my blood debt. Do you dare, Mr. Power?"

The room seemed to freeze. Aiden was stunned for a brief moment. He had not expected the prey he intended to corner in the most ruthless way to have suddenly molted into an ambitious hunter.

An enigmatic smile slowly formed on Aiden’s lips—a rare sign of appreciation for such audacity.

"Revenge?" he whispered, his voice laced with dangerous amusement. "You realize the price for me to become your 'sword' is not cheap? What do you intend to wager for this additional request... when your soul already belongs to the surrogacy contract?"

“Either you accept, or I walk out of that door right now,” Alma declared steelily.

But her defiance was met not with a nod, but only with a soft, contemptuous laugh from Aiden. He returned to his desk and leisurely leaned back in his chair, his cold gaze fixed on her as if observing a moth trying to appear dangerous.

"Are you threatening me, Alma?" Aiden growled, his low voice thick with pressure. "On what grounds do you negotiate? A penniless debtor, someone kneeling at my feet begging for a way out, yet you want me to follow your conditions? You have nothing to make me fear, and nothing worth my consideration."

He waved his hand, a humiliating gesture of dismissal. "Go. Let’s see how many cents your hollow 'revenge' is worth against the realities waiting to swallow you whole out there."

Aiden’s cruelty was the final blow that snapped Alma’s thread of patience. But instead of crying or pleading, her face suddenly became terrifyingly calm. She looked at him one last time—not with the eyes of a job seeker, but with the eyes of someone who had stared into the face of death.

She turned her back without a single redundant word, her previously trembling legs now walking with absolute steadiness. Each heel strike against the marble floor sounded dry and sharp, like the countdown of a time bomb.

Alma reached the heavy wooden door. Her hand settled on the cold brass handle without a hint of hesitation. She took a deep breath, her mind flashing with the hospital’s message and the years of scurrying about like a ghost. If this soul could not be redeemed, she would rather let it vanish along with her final shred of pride than let him trample it.

Click.

The sound of the lock turning echoed harshly in the silent room. Alma pushed the door open, a flood of light from the hallway pouring in, poised to swallow her small silhouette.

"Stop."

Aiden’s deep, heavy voice rang out, shattering the stifling atmosphere.

Alma froze, but she did not turn her head. She stood exactly on the threshold—the boundary between a humiliated survival and a brutal freedom.

Aiden stood up, his eyes narrowing as he watched her defiant back. He had seen what he needed: Alma’s despair did not make her weak; it had turned her into the most reckless of predators. She wasn’t selling herself for money; she was using her life to buy back justice.

"I accept those terms." Aiden walked toward her slowly, his voice carrying absolute authority mixed with a hidden sense of admiration. "I will bring those people before you so you can reclaim everything with your own hands. But mark my words, Alma..."

He stood directly behind her, his cold breath enveloping the young woman.

"From this moment on, you are no longer a stranger coming here to beg for work. You are a part of the Power empire, my most dangerous investment. Once this door closes, your breath, your flesh, and even your hatred... all belong to me. There is no turning back."

Alma closed her eyes tight, one last hot tear rolling down before drying in the heat of her resentment. She let go of the door handle and turned to face him. No longer hesitant, she picked up the fountain pen on the desk and signed the contract with a frantic decisiveness.

A massive question still swirled deep in Alma's mind: Why would a man like Aiden so easily accept the terms she proposed? She wanted to ask why he would compromise with someone who had nothing, but in the end, Alma chose silence. She knew she had no right to question him, and even if she did, a pragmatist like him was unlikely to answer truthfully.

She truly did not know what he was plotting behind that agreement. She only knew that her life had officially turned a new page. Happiness, misery, or some sophisticated trap lying in wait... she didn't know, and she no longer had the strength to care.

The ink pressed deep into the paper like a blood oath. Alma was no longer a commodity for Aiden to prize; she had officially become a "partner" in a transaction steeped in tears.