CHAPTER 7: The Physical Requirement

Sybil

I stood frozen under Casimir’s intense gaze. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, but I refused to step back. I tried my hardest not to look as rattled as his icy blue eyes made me feel.

I squared my shoulders and tilted my chin up just a fraction.

"Is there anything else I should know?" I asked.

Casimir did not answer. He stared at me for three long seconds, his expression completely unreadable. Then, without a single word, he turned his back and walked away down the hall, his dark figure blending into the shadows of the massive estate.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My hands were shaking. I grabbed the handle of my bedroom door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

I stopped just over the threshold. I actually took a step backward into the hallway to make sure I had opened the right door. The room was breathtaking. It was larger than my entire apartment back in the city. A massive four-poster bed sat in the center, flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dark grounds. Soft, cream-colored rugs covered the hardwood floor. It was undeniably gorgeous, though I figured every single room in this mansion probably looked exactly like this.

I walked over to the large wooden wardrobe and opened the double doors. I blinked in surprise. It was not empty.

Rows of brand-new corporate attire, casual wear, and sleepwear hung neatly on velvet hangers. I checked the tags. Every single item was exactly my size. Elias’s logistics team had not just packed up my old life; they had completely replaced my wardrobe in a matter of hours.

It was efficient, expensive, and deeply unsettling.

I was too exhausted to process any of it. The emotional toll of the day finally crashed down on me. I did not even bother changing into the provided sleepwear. I took off my shoes, crawled into the massive bed in my clothes, and fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow.

The next morning, I woke up to a house that was entirely silent.

I showered, changed into one of the new, tailored skirts and silk blouses from the wardrobe, and navigated my way downstairs. The sheer size of the mansion made it feel like a museum before opening hours.

I found the kitchen. A woman in a white apron was standing at the massive marble island, quietly chopping fresh fruit.

"Good morning," I said.

She looked up and smiled warmly. "Good morning, Ms. Adams. I am Sarah. Would you like some breakfast before you leave?"

"Just coffee, please," I said. "I do not want to be late for my first day on the top floor."

She poured a steaming cup of dark roast into a travel mug and handed it to me. "The driver is waiting out front whenever you are ready."

"Thank you, Sarah."

I walked out the front doors and got into the waiting car. As the iron gates of the estate closed behind us, I let out a long breath of relief. I was genuinely glad to escape the heavy, suffocating atmosphere of the house. I could handle spreadsheets and corporate schedules. I was entirely out of my depth navigating billionaires who treated their hallways like militarized zones.

Especially Casimir. I knew from my time in the strategy department that he was the Executive Vice President of Corporate Affairs and Investments. He handled multi-million dollar acquisitions and ruthless corporate takeovers. The fact that a man with that much corporate power cared so deeply about the mansion’s perimeter was deeply unnerving.

The drive into the city was quick. I bypassed the security turnstiles and took the private elevator directly to the top floor.

My new desk was stationed right outside Elias’s double doors. It was sleek, modern, and currently piled high with incoming digital memos and scheduling requests. I sat down and placed my coffee cup next to the monitor.

Before I could even log into the system, the heavy doors to the CEO’s office swung open.

Elias stood in the doorway. He wore a navy blue suit and a crisp white shirt without a tie. He looked rested, focused, and entirely in control.

"Ms. Adams," Elias said. "Come in."

I grabbed my notepad and a pen, stood up, and walked into his office.

Elias closed the door behind me. I heard the sharp, metallic click of the lock engaging. My stomach tightened instantly. Locking the door during business hours meant this was not a conversation about my clerical duties.

"Sit down," he said.

I took the leather chair opposite his desk. He walked around to his side and sat down, folding his hands together on the glass surface.

"Did the logistics team move your belongings without issue?" Elias asked.

"Yes," I said.

"And your room at the estate? Is it to your liking?"

"It is very beautiful," I replied. "Thank you. And thank you for the clothes in the wardrobe. It was not necessary, but I appreciate the efficiency."

"I require my assistants to maintain a specific standard," Elias said smoothly. "It was entirely necessary."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. The polite pleasantries vanished from his face, replaced by a serious, clinical expression.

"Put the notepad away," Elias instructed. "There will be no written record of this conversation."

I closed the notepad and set my pen down. "Is something wrong with the contract?"

"The contract remains exactly the same," Elias said. "The compensation is secured. Your sister’s surgery is proceeding as scheduled this morning. But there is a significant complication regarding the medical procedure itself."

My heart skipped a beat. "Dr. Thorne said my test results were perfect. He said I was an exact match."

"You are a match," Elias confirmed. "But Dr. Thorne ran a secondary panel on my genetics last night to prepare the clinical samples. The results presented a biological conflict."

I frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. "I don't understand. A conflict with what?"

"My genetics are highly irregular," Elias stated. His dark eyes locked onto mine, completely unwavering. "My cellular structure is exceptionally aggressive. When Dr. Thorne attempted to synthesize the samples for the clinical transfer, the genetic material broke down. It rejects clinical preservation. It rejects artificial insertion completely."

I stared at him. The medical terminology felt heavy and confusing, but the underlying message was slowly starting to form in my mind.

"Are you saying the artificial insemination won't work?" I asked.

"I am saying it is biologically impossible," Elias replied.

The office went dead silent. The faint hum of the city traffic outside the thick glass windows completely disappeared from my awareness.

"Then how am I supposed to carry the child?" I asked. My voice sounded thin, almost breathless.

Elias did not blink. He did not look uncomfortable. He delivered the reality of the situation with the same ruthless efficiency he used in the boardroom.

"The clinical route is closed," Elias said. "The surrogacy must be entirely physical. It has to be done the traditional way."

I stopped breathing.

My eyes went wide in pure, absolute shock. I gripped the armrests of the leather chair, my knuckles turning white.

He was telling me that a sterile hospital clinic was no longer an option. There would be no doctors, no test tubes, and no medical separation.

If I wanted to keep the money and save my sister’s life, I was going to have to sleep with the billionaire sitting across from me.