CHAPTER 5: HOW DARE YOU!

My eyes flew open. My breath hitched completely the moment I felt the hound’s massive head press firmly against my open palm.

My mouth fell open in utter shock. Hot tears spilled over my eyelashes, blurring my vision.

“I... I did it,” I whispered, a breathless laugh breaking through my tears as Bruno affectionately rubbed his thick jowls against my hand.

Gaining a sudden burst of confidence, I placed my other hand on his neck, gently scratching behind his ears. The terrifying beast let out a low, content whine and wagged his tail like a puppy.

A jagged, disbelieving laugh escaped my lips. I could literally feel the crushing weight of terror lifting from my chest. I had walked into this room expecting to be torn to pieces, and instead, I had survived.

“Miss Elena of the Stewart family is now the chosen mistress for the Vance family,” Mr. Sterling Vance announced, his booming voice echoing with absolute disbelief.

I glanced toward the unconscious billionaire on the bed. For some strange reason, looking at his handsome, motionless face gave me a sudden surge of resolve. He was my ticket away from my toxic past. I wouldn’t give up.

“Elena,” Mrs. Sterling Vance called out. Her sharp, calculating gaze fixed on me, and the smile she offered looked entirely forced.

“Welcome to the Vance family.”

I pushed down the sudden knot of unease in my stomach and gave her a respectful, slight bow.

Mrs. Vance turned sharply to the head maid.

“You know exactly what to do next.” She tapped the woman’s shoulder stiffly and marched out of the room alongside her husband.

If I wasn’t mistaken, the billionaire’s mother didn’t seem happy about my victory at all. It was almost as if she wanted the candidates to fail. or..could it...I didn’t dare finish that thought. because I don't think that a mother would wish such a thing for her own child.

“Follow me, my lady,” the head maid instructed, her tone shifting into something strictly professional.

I nodded, trailing closely behind her. She led me through a maze of corridors into a grand bathroom that was easily the size of five bedrooms in my father’s house. A waiting team of female staff immediately swarmed me.

They stripped away my tattered, oversized rags and pushed me under a steaming shower, scrubbing my skin raw with scented soaps.

Once I was thoroughly cleaned, they ushered me into a massive walk-in wardrobe filled with endless racks of luxury clothing. Another set of styling maids immediately got to work.

Moments later, they draped me in a breathtaking white velvet gown with a sleek slit that opened just above my knee.

When I finally turned to face the full-length mirror, my breath caught.

The reflection staring back at me was an absolute shock.

The styling team had expertly done my hair and makeup, accentuating my features. My face wasn’t fat—it was perfectly sculpted.

The gown hugged my voluptuous, hourglass figure, revealing curves that my family had intentionally hidden under baggy clothes for years.

A wave of intense, overwhelming emotion washed over me. I didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

For the first time in my life, I looked like a queen.

---

Minutes later, I stood alone with the head maid in a private briefing room. A large digital blueprint of the comatose billionaire’s daily schedule flashed on the screen.

The head maid tapped Ethan’s image with a silver pointer.

“Up until now, Dan has personally overseen Mr. Ethan’s daily care. That duty now falls entirely on you. Your first task every morning is to assist with his morning routine. Take a fresh towel from his cupboard, dip it in warm water, and wipe down his body from face to toe. But remember this above all else: do not touch his hair. He absolutely loathes it.”

But he’s in a deep, unresponsive coma. How could he possibly know?

I wanted to ask that question so badly but on seeing the look on her face, I kept my mouth shut.

Then, the screen flipped, displaying the strict terms of the surrogate contract. My face burned as she outlined the expectations of my presence in his bed—and the ultimate goal of producing a Vance heir to secure the family lineage.

“If you fail to conceive within the designated timeline,” the maid added, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper, “you will be quietly dismissed. And a dismissed Vance surrogate never returns to her old life. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” I replied, my throat dry, desperate to escape the suffocating room.

She nodded and handed me the surrogate documents to sign.

There were two rules I was expected to follow. The first: Follow every instruction given by the head maid without question.

The second, and final, rule was simpler, yet far more chilling: Know your place and do not abuse it... because if you do, there will be consequences your life alone cannot pay for.

Wait, are these rules, or threats?

The question almost slipped past my lips, but thankfully, I held it back.

I signed the pages exactly where she indicated. I handed the documents back, and she inspected my signature carefully before setting them down.

“I trust everything I’ve said is perfectly clear?” she questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, perfectly,” I replied impatiently, desperate to escape the suffocating room.

Finally, she ushered me out, leading me down to the lower courtyard and back to Ethan’s room.

I wondered how much time we had spent in that room, considering it was already dark outside.

When we arrived back at the golden doors of Ethan’s master suite, the head maid handed me a warm, damp cloth.

“Go on inside and begin his care. When you are finished, you can rest for the day,” she ordered smoothly before closing the doors and leaving me alone.

I turned toward the massive bed.

The giant dog, Bruno, was resting peacefully on the floor, his massive head resting on his paws. His tail gave a soft wag the moment he saw me. I walked over, patting his head affectionately as if he were my own.

Then, I turned to Ethan.

I walked over to the bedside, my eyes tracing his features. His dark, unruly curls, his perfectly structured nose, and those naturally flushed lips looked impossibly striking. He didn’t look like a dying man. He looked like a sleeping god.

I knelt beside the mattress, the head maid’s warning echoing in my mind:

Whatever you do, don’t touch his hair.

But staring at him up close, a powerful curiosity took over. I wanted to see his full face without the shadows of those curls.

He’s unconscious, I reasoned, my heart hammering against my ribs. It’s just one second. He’ll never know.

Trembling, I reached my hand out and gently slid my fingers into his thick, silky hair, brushing it upward away from his brow. The texture was incredibly soft.

For a split second, I could have sworn his long, dark eyelashes flickered. I froze, blinking, but he remained completely still.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I traced the warm, damp towel across his forehead, down his sculpted cheekbones, and over the hard line of his jaw. Moving downward, my fingers worked their way from his collar, unbuttoning his silk shirt to proceed with the care instructions.

But as I reached the fabric near his waist, my fingers slipped on the smooth silk. My knuckles accidentally grazed the sharp, bare skin of his hip bone—sliding dangerously close to the front of his sleep pants.

Right at that exact moment, the vitals monitor beside the bed let out a sharp, erratic spike, the alarms beginning to hum with frantic beeps.

Panic exploded in my chest. I thought I had disconnected a wire or, even worse, stopped his heart. I yanked my hand back so violently that my foot caught on the heavy medical wiring along the floorboards.

I lost my balance.

I pitched forward, throwing my hands out to break my fall, but my weight crashed directly onto Ethan’s chest. Before I could process the impact, my lips brushed directly against his.

I gasped in horror, preparing to push myself off him immediately, when suddenly, a crushing grip clamped around my wrist.

His eyes flew wide open, burning with dark fury.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” His deep, raspy voice growled.