Chapter 3- RULE NUMBER ONE

The hospital room felt painfully cold, the kind of cold that seeped into bone and stayed there, refusing to leave no matter how tightly you wrapped your arms around yourself.

Aubrey sat stiffly on the edge of the examination bed, fingers clenched together so tightly her knuckles turned white.

 The hospital gown she wore did nothing to protect her from the chill—or from the reality of why she was here.

Doctors moved around her with practiced efficiency, voices low, clipped,professional. Killian stood near the window.

As always, he looked like he didn’t belong in a place like this- his face emotionless as usual. His tailored black suit didn’t have a single wrinkle. His posture was straight, hands tucked casually into his pockets, gaze fixed on the city outside as if the skyline held more value than whatever was going on inside this room.

Aubrey watched him for a moment too long.

“You could at least pretend to be human,” she muttered under her breath.

Without turning, he replied flatly, “I am human.

”

Her lips twitched. “Then act like it”

That earned her something unusual.

Silence.

Then—barely visible—the corner of his mouth turned. Not quite a smile. More like the idea of one, quickly abandoned before it could fully form.

The doctor cleared his throat, stepping between them like he was trying to block tension from spreading.

“We’ll begin preliminary testing shortly.”

Aubrey nodded, her stomach churning with anxiety.

Testing.

That word made everything feel more real than it already was.

Minutes passed.

Her blood sample was taken. She was asked a few questions . Made to sign documents of agreement. Her body was examined like a system being evaluated for defects. Every instruction was delivered politely, but nothing about it felt gentle.

Killian stayed.

He didn’t comfort her. Didn’t reassure her. He simply remained in the room, silently watching with cold gray eyes.

At one point, she caught him staring at the monitor displaying her vitals.

Not her face.

Not her fear.

Just data.

He was heartless than she thought.

By the time the final documents were brought in, Aubrey felt drained in a way sleep couldn’t fix.

“This is the final agreement,” the doctor said carefully, placing the folder between them.

Her fingers hesitated above the pen.

This was the line.

Before it, she was still just a desperate woman trying to save her mother.

After it—

Her stomach twisted as she thought about it.

Killian finally turned from the window and approached.

Not rushed. Not uncertain. Controlled, as always.

“Once you sign,” he said, voice calm, “there are no changes.”

Aubrey let out a humorless breath.

His eyes flicked to hers. “This is not a place for second thoughts.”

Something in her chest tightened.

She looked down at the paper again.

The contract. The clauses. The conditions.

$300,000.

Her mother’s surgery.

Her reason.

Her trap.

Slowly, she picked up the pen.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Then she signed.

The moment ink touched paper, something shifted—not physically, not visibly, but undeniably.

Killian watched her the entire time.

And when she finished, his gaze sharpened slightly, as if confirming something only he understood.

“It’s done,” the doctor said softly, almost reluctantly.

Aubrey set the pen down,she hated how her hands were trembling helplessly.

Done.

No.

Beginning.

The doctor began explaining the next steps—the medical procedures, the implantation process, the schedule, the precautions—but the words blurred together in Aubrey's mind.

Her thoughts snagged on only one phrase.

Implantation.

 Artificial. Controlled. Clinical.

Her life, suddenly reduced to a procedure.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asked quietly.

The room went still for half a second.

Even the doctor paused.

Killian answered before anyone else could.

“It will.”

His voice carried absolute certainty. Like he was sure everything would go smoothly.

Aubrey turned her head sharply. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I am,” he said simply.

Arrogant. Cold. Aura filled.

She wanted to throw the pen at him.

“You say that like biology answers to ego,” she muttered.

For the first time, something like irritation crossed his face.

Not anger.A flicker in his eyes. Like they had turned darker.

Before he could respond, the doctor cleared his throat again, flipping through the test results with growing unease.

Killian noticed immediately.

“What is it?” he asked.

The shift in his tone was subtle.

The doctor hesitated. Like he was about to share some bad news.

That hesitation alone made Aubrey's stomach drop.

“There may be a complication,” he admitted carefully, shuffling his feet.

Silence.

Aubrey's breath caught. “What complication?”

The doctor adjusted his glasses, clearly choosing each word like it might explode in his mouth.

“Given your medical compatibility… there’s an unusually high chance emotional stress could affect the pregnancy.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Killian's voice dropped.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” the doctor said more cautiously, “the mother’s emotional condition matters more than expected in this case. Stress levels, trauma responses, hormonal stability—everything must be carefully monitored.

Mother.

The word hit differently.

Not surrogate.

Not subject.

Mother.

Aubrey felt something twist inside her chest. She didn’t look at Killian right away. She couldn’t.

Because something had changed in the room again.

Something heavier.

When she finally did glance at him, she froze.

His expression had hardened instantly.

But it was too late.

She had seen it.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Shock.

Not irritation.

Not calculation.

Shock.

The cold billionaire who looked like nothing could touch him… had reacted.

Killian's jaw tightened.

“What are the risks?” he asked the doctor cautiously, his voice low.

“High stress could reduce viability,” the doctor said carefully. “It could affect implantation success. It could also increase medical complications later.”

A pause.

Then softer:

“Her emotional stability will be critical.”

Silence again.

Aubrey slowly exhaled.

So that was it.

Even her emotions weren’t hers anymore.

They were part of the contract now.

Killian stepped away from the window fully, finally facing her.

For the first time since she met him, his gaze wasn’t just assessing.

It was… focused.

Like she had become something more important than a transaction.

“That won’t be a problem,” he said firmly.

Aubrey scoffed . “You really think you can control my emotions too?”

“I can control the environment around you,” he corrected.

“That’s not the same thing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what happens when I refuse to cooperate?”

A beat.

Killian's voice lowered.

“Then we adjust.”

The sentence sent chills down her spine.

Aubrey stared at him, realizing something uncomfortable.

He wasn’t just confident.

He was prepared.

Her emotional state mattered.

Which meant—

For the first time, Killian Frost didn’t have full control over the outcome.

And that realization… lingered between them like a crack forming in glass.

Aubrey slowly stood from the bed, steadying herself.

“I guess we both have rules now,” she said quietly.

Killian's eyes didn’t leave hers.

“No,” he replied.

His voice was calm again.

But different.

He took a step closer.

“Rule number one still stands.

A pause.

Then:

“Nothing fails.”

But this time…

Even he didn’t sound entirely certain.