LOGIN“Why didn’t you tell me you are the mother of my kids, Emma?” His countenance is soft but stern. “It was a contract.” My voice falters. He didn’t choose fatherhood. She didn’t choose him. But destiny and betrayal leave them with no choice at all. Billionaire Alexander Willoughby built his empire on control. Then his grandparents stole his DNA to create the heir he never asked for. Betrayed and furious, Alexander vowed never to be manipulated again. Emma Johnson thought the surrogacy contract was simple: carry a baby, save her mother, keep her sister in school, and walk away. She never planned to meet the children she birthed. She never planned to fall in love with them—or with their father. Now, as the nanny to twins Bernard and Bernice, Emma’s secret has exploded. Alexander feels deceived. Emma feels cornered. And circling them both is Sophia, Alexander’s ex and Emma’s stepsister, who is determined to tear them apart and claim the life she thinks she deserves. Neither planned this bond. Neither wanted these stakes. But the twins they share will tie them together in ways neither can escape. When secrets ignite, pride shatters, and desire grows impossible to resist, walking away may no longer be an option. A story of power, betrayal, sacrifice and a love neither of them saw coming.
View MoreEMMA’S POVBy the time I pull into the driveway, the sky is already dimming. Two small bags with tangled handles sit on the passenger seat beside me. I grab them and step out of my car. The front door opens before I knock.Bernard’s voice breaks through first.“Aunty Emma!”Then Bernice follows, shrieking in her small, excited tone that always makes my chest grow warm. They rush toward me, with bright eyes and no worries.I drop the bags and kneel, letting them crash into me, both talking at once. Bernard’s saying something about how they finished their drawing and Bernice’s showing me the glitter still stuck on her fingers.“I missed you guys too,” I say, breathless and laughing.They grab the bags, unbothered by how gently they should be handled. “Are these for us?”“Of course,” I smile at them.They dart inside before I can answer again. As I walk in, the smell of coffee candies and the soft sound of classical music fills my insides.Alex is standing near the base of the staircase
ALEXANDER’S POVI’m halfway through a glass of wine when I hear the front door open.It’s the sound of familiar footsteps. I turn, the glass still in my hand.“Look who decided to show up,” I say, smiling.“Alexander bloody Willoughby,” Stephen grins, spreading his arms. He’s tanned now, lines around his eyes deeper than the last time I saw him, but he’s still the same old Stephen. “Man, you look like hell.”“Thanks,” I say dryly. “You too.”He laughs and pulls me into a quick hug, with his eyes the counter. “You’re drinking this early?”“Don’t judge me,” I mutter, pouring him a glass anyway. “Long day.”He takes it without protest, sniffing it like a critic before sipping. “Hmm. Still the good stuff. At least your taste hasn’t gone to hell.”I lean against the kitchen island. “How was the trip?”“Productive.” He drops his duffel bag to the floor and starts recounting how the deal in Madrid finally came through, how the new branch will need restructuring, how one of the partners nearl
ALEXANDER’S POVI walk back inside, basking in the rosy smell of her perfume and cherishing the moments with her and the children until Sophia ruined it all.I can hear the distant echo of the children’s footsteps and laughter upstairs. That alone calms me for a beat— at least they’re fine. At least they didn’t have to see that little showdown in the hallway.But then I see Sophia.Sitting there like she belongs, one leg crossed over the other, draped on my couch— the cream one Emma helped me pick while she was the children’s nanny. She’s scrolling through her phone, pretending to be unbothered, like she didn’t just throw a grenade into the middle of my morning.I stop at the edge of the living room.“What the hell was that?” I ask.She glances up, feigning innocence. “What was what?”I take a step forward. “Whatever it is you were saying to Emma before I came down. Don’t lie to me, Sophia.”Her lips curl into a smirk. “Oh, Alexander. You’re taking things far too seriously. We were ju
EMMA’S POVI don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until the front door comes into view, with the lights spilling through the glass.“Emma.”I hear Sophia’s voice— sharp, smooth, and already carrying that sneering tone.I stop. Of course I do. I turn slightly, enough to see her walking toward me in those ridiculous heeled sandals that click like punctuation marks. She looks as if she’s just stepped out of a magazine — her hair sleek, her lips glossed, her perfume so thick enough to make me want to gag my throat out.“You know,” she begins, folding her arms like she’s posing for a cover shoot, “I really don’t see the point of you showing up here anymore. It’s… desperate.” She savors the word. “Yes. It screams desperation.”I blink slowly. I don’t have the strength or the interest to meet her on this childish battlefield. If there’s anyone who is desperate, she is. Right from pushing our father to threaten me to stay away from Alexander to showing up relentlessly. How disgustingly de


















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