SOLD TO THE DON: His Surrogate, His Wife

RHEA.

My father sold me for one hundred million dollars.

I didn't know that was my price until I heard the clink of glass against glass in the dimly lit study, followed by my father Enzo Donovan’s light, careless laugh.

"She's pure, Nikolai," my father said, his voice dripping with fake affection. "Never been touched. No boyfriend, no drama. She'll give you whatever you want."

I stood frozen in the hallway, my fingers digging into the wooden frame of the door. The air in my chest burned, but I didn't dare exhale.

He’s talking about me…

I knew my father didn't love me. Ever since my mother died giving birth to me, I had been nothing more than an ugly reminder of what he lost. When he married Sheila my mother's best friend two years later, I became a maid in my own home. My stepmother hated me, and her daughter, Rosabella, took pleasure in making my life a living hell. For twenty-five years, I swallowed their insults, cleaned their messes, and kept my mouth shut, praying for the day I could save enough money to escape.

I thought I was just waiting for the right moment to run.

I didn't realize my time had already been bought.

"I am not interested in her purity, Enzo," a deep, dark voice replied.

The sound sent a cold shiver down my spine. It wasn't loud, but it filled the room like heavy smoke. It carried absolute authority.

"I am interested in her womb," the man continued. His tone cold as ice, completely devoid of emotion. 

"And your debt is settled the moment she signs the contract. If she refuses, I take your head instead. Simple."

"She won't refuse," my stepmother Sheila’s high pitched voice interrupted. "Rhea is a good girl. She does what she’s told. Rosabella is far too fragile for something like this, but Rhea? She’s tough."

My blood ran cold.

Rosabella was sitting in her room right now, wrapped in silk, protected. Meanwhile, they were handing me over to a predator to save my father's skin.

I took a slow step backward. The carpet muffled my footsteps. I couldn't stay here. If I stayed, I was dead.

I turned around and made a run for the back door.

"Rhea!"

Sheila’s sharp shout echoed down the hallway. I didn't look back. I threw open the door leading to the garden and bolted into the dark, rainy night. Cold rain whipped against my face, blinding me, but I kept sprinting..

Run. Just run.

I slammed through the iron gates of our estate and reached the main road. The headlights of high end cars lined the driveway, but I pushed past them, heading for the tree line near the main road. Freedom was just beyond the property line. If I could reach the main road, I could hide. I could call the police. I could—

A large hand grabbed my upper arm, yanking me backward so hard my feet left the ground.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, twisting frantically.

I swung my elbow back, hitting solid chest muscle. The man didn't even flinch. He grabbed my other wrist, pinning both of my hands behind my back with a single, iron-hard grip.

"Stop fighting.." a smooth, calm voice whispered right against my ear.

I looked up through the rain and froze.

The man holding me wasn't one of my father’s bodyguards.

He was tall…at least six foot wearing a tailored dark gray suit that looked completely unbothered by the downpour. His jaw was sharp, covered in light stubble, and his dark hair was combed back neatly despite the wind. But it was his eyes that made my breathing stop.

They were cold. Utterly, completely lifeless. Looking into his eyes felt like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

Nikolai Martello.

Even if you didn't know the mafia, you knew his name. He was a tech billionaire to the public, a ruthless underworld boss to those who knew the truth. A monster in  disguise.

"You're making a mess," Nikolai said calmly, His thumb pressed against the pulse point in my wrist, feeling my frantic heartbeat. "And I don't like messes."

"I am not a piece of property!" I choked out, glaring at him through the rain. My voice trembled, but I forced myself to meet his stare. "My father can't sell me to you! It's illegal!"

Nikolai’s lips twitched upward into a small, humorless smirk. "Illegal? You think the law applies in my world, Rhea?"

He knew my name. Of course he did.

Before I could reply, two men in dark suits stepped out from the shadows of the trees.

"Take her to the car," Nikolai ordered, releasing his grip on my wrists.

"No! Get away from me!" I kicked out, my sneaker catching one of the guards in the shin. He grunted, grabbing my shoulders, while the second guard lifted my legs.

I thrashed and hit, screaming at the top of my lungs, but they carried me like I weighed nothing. They threw me into the leather backseat of a black SUV. The child-lock clicked softly before I could even reach for the door handle.

A moment later, the door opened, and Nikolai slid into the seat across from me. The air inside the vehicle suddenly felt suffocatingly thin.

He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the rainwater from his hands. He didn't look angry. He looked bored. Like I was an inconvenience he had already calculated.

"Listen to me carefully," Nikolai said, his voice calm and low.

"Your father owed me one hundred million dollars. He couldn't pay. So, he offered me something he claimed was equal in value."

"I am a human being!" I snapped, my hands shaking as I wiped the wet hair from my face. "I am not a commodity!"

"You are whatever I need you to be," he corrected coldly. He reached into a compartment near his seat and pulled out a thick document, tossing it onto the leather seat between us.

I glanced at the title printed in dark bold letters at the top: **SURROGACY AND MARITAL CONTRACT.**

My breath hitched in my throat. "Marital?"

"My mother is dying," Nikolai said, leaning back against his seat and crossing his long legs. "Her final wish is to see me married and carrying an heir. I have no intention of falling in love, nor do I have the patience to date. I need a woman who will carry my child, wear my ring for public appearances, and keep her mouth shut."

He pointed a long, elegant finger toward the paper.

"You will carry my late wife's embryo," he stated calmly. "You will live in my home. You will act as my wife in front of my family and the media. Once the child is born, you will sign over all maternal rights, accept a fifty million dollar payout, and walk away. Forever."

I stared at him, my head spinning. "And if I say no?"

Nikolai leaned forward, the shadows catching the sharp angles of his face. His dark eyes locked onto mine, stripping away any last bit of hope I had left.

"If you say no, I walk back into that house and put a bullet through your father's head," he whispered smoothly. "Then I drag you out anyway. Except without the fifty million dollars, and without the contract."

He wasn't bluffing. I could see it in his eyes. Death meant nothing to him.

"You're a monster," I whispered.

"I know," he replied without a hint of hesitation. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a gold fountain pen, and slid it across the seat toward me. "Sign the paper, Rhea."

My fingers trembled as I picked up the pen. My life had never really belonged to me, but signing this paper meant surrendering whatever control I had left. It meant stepping directly into the devil’s den.

I pressed the tip of the pen to the signature line at the bottom of the page. My heart pounded in my ears like a drum.

Just sign it, survive the year, take the money, and be free…

I signed my name, Rhea Donovan.

Nikolai took the document back, skimming my signature with a quick glance. A faint, dark smile played on his lips.

"Good girl," he said softly.

He leaned toward the front console and tapped the intercom button to the driver. "Head to the airport. We're flying to Italy tonight."

The SUV pulled away from the estate, leaving my old life behind in the rain. I stared out the blacked 

out window, my hands still shaking in my lap.

Nikolai picked up a black velvet box from the side door compartment. He flipped it open, revealing a blinding diamond ring. Before I could pull away, he grabbed my left hand. His grip was firm, hot against my freezing skin.

He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

"Welcome to the family, Mrs. Martello," he said quietly.