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ALEXANDER'S POV
There are lots of things to be unaware of but having your sperm stolen?
I stride through the polished halls of my penthouse suite, exuding confidence with every step. This penthouse has been part of my life since I was born. As an older son, my demands were always met and I liked taking charge to ensure things always move in the right direction. One thing I can say about myself is that I'm used to being in control, both in the boardroom and the bedroom. My reputation as a playboy precedes me, and I've grown accustomed to the admiring glances and knowing smiles from women who seek a taste of the lavish lifestyle I can provide.
Today, however, my customary confidence is rattled when my grandparents summon me to their opulent estate. My mind races with possibilities—what could this sudden meeting be about? I push open the massive double doors that lead to their lavishly decorated sitting room. There they are, seated on their ornate thrones of plush upholstery, looking every bit as formidable as I remember from my childhood.
"Alexander," my grandmother says, her voice regal and unwavering. "Sit down, dear."
My heart rate quickens. Something is off. They exchange a glance, and my suspicions are confirmed. This isn't just a routine family gathering.
"What is it, Grandmother? Grandfather?" I ask, attempting to maintain my composure.
"We've decided it's time for you to settle down," Grandfather says, his voice gruff but sincere.
"Settle down?" I chuckle, trying to mask my discomfort. "I've built an empire, conquered the business world, and enjoyed every pleasure life has to offer. I'm not ready to be tied down to one woman."
Grandmother sighs, her gaze unwavering. "Alexander, you can't continue on this way forever. It's time for you to consider the legacy you'll leave behind."
"I am building a legacy, one that will last for generations," I counter.
"Your empire is impressive, no doubt," Grandfather replies, "but there's more to life than just business success. We want to see you happy, with a family of your own."
The room falls silent as their words hang heavily in the air. A family of my own? The idea seems preposterous. I've never let anyone get close enough to threaten the walls I've carefully erected around my heart. Love is a weakness—a vulnerability that I cannot afford.
"And that's why," Grandmother continues, "we've taken matters into our own hands with a surrogate."
My mind reels, struggling to comprehend their audacious plan. A surrogate? For me? The anger surges within me, and I stand, my voice laden with frustration. "Absolutely not! I won't be manipulated into this farce. I make my own decisions, in business and in my personal life."
Their faces remain impassive, knowing full well that my temper would flare. It's the one aspect of myself that I've never been able to rein in, and they exploit it now.
"We understand your reservations, Alexander," Grandmother says calmly. "But hear us out. This isn't about manipulation; it's about love and family."
I clench my fists, torn between my love and respect for my grandparents and my determination to stand firm in my beliefs. But no matter how I struggle to fight it, a seed of doubt has been planted.
As I storm out of the room, the unresolved tension hangs in the air, and the future feels more uncertain than ever. My heart races, torn between anger and curiosity. I never expected my grandparents to orchestrate my romantic life, and yet, as much as I want to reject their plan, a part of me wonders if children are what I need right now.
I vow to myself that I won't easily give in to their proposal, but deep down, I know that this battle has just begun.
I pace forward then, backward, looking into their old faces and grey hair. I come to a halt right in front of them.
"Grandfather, Grandmother. I appreciate your effort but, I do not want a complicated life. I have had enough to deal with already."
"My dear, we understand you but we have no other choice than to make you a father through surrogacy. We considered the fact that you might not want a woman now."
"We love you, Alexander. And so do we know what is best for you."
I shake my head. How lovely they are but their decision is just the opposite. My eyes shuffles between Grandmother’s pearl earrings and Grandfather’s grey hair although, my mind reel with a lot of clips from a messed up past and how it is never possible to become vulnerable anymore.
"You do not need to worry yourself, Son. We will take care of everything. You are just the father and I am sure you will do great, Grandmother stands up, reaching for my arms with her hands. Her sharp and sweet cologne meets with my nose. It seems to calm all the anger flowing through my veins.
I clear my throat, not wanting to sound grumpy, "So, I guess my only role here is to be the father."
"Hmm." Grandfather nods his head in affirmation.
"Being a father comes with roles and responsibilities. Do not fret, it is within your power." Grandmother adds, slowly seating back into the plush chair.
I sigh with my eyeballs rolled up. When she speaks this way, I know it is a hectic chore.
"Honestly, I can not afford…," I break off in frustration. "It's alright."
There is a silence that speaks volume. I find discomfort in the silence as I imagine briefly what it would be like to have children all over the house.
I blurt, "It is quite embarrassing that I would have to give you my sperm."
Grandmother chuckled, "Of course not. We are your parents. You do not have to feel that way. Besides, you won't have to feel embarrassed because we have it already."
It feels like my ears were mishearing. My eyes widen in utter shock as I wrap my head around Grandmother's last sentence. How on earth?
"How?!"
"Be calm." Her soothing words sink into my ears.
"How can I be, Grandmother? How can I be calm? We are talking about a long process of release, so how did you get my sperm?" Furious, I place my hands into my hair.
"You don't have to know, son. All you should care about is the safety, wellbeing and the future of your seed," For a moment, Grandfather sounds like a tyrant.
The only question in my head is, how the hell did they get my sperm?
ALEXANDER’S POVI am standing by the door right in Emma’s flower shop and the smell of lilies, hydrangeas and fresh roses are too clean to ignore. But for a place that should soothe the nerves, it feels oddly suffocating. I mean, I’m here for Emma. John looks up from the counter, his face brightening until he recognizes me. The smile shrinks halfway.“Good afternoon, sir,” he says, between politeness and panic. “You here for a flower pickup?”“No. I’m here to see Emma.”His expression stiffens. “Miss Emma is quite busy right now…”“She’s here?” I ask, cutting him off.He hesitates, blinking fast. “She’s—uh—she’s—”“John.” My voice drops lower. “Is she here?”He opens his mouth, shuts it again, and looks toward the cubicle behind him like a guilty child.I exhale slowly, tapping my foot against the wooden floor. “I asked you a question.”“I just— uh— she said not to—”“John.”I hear the faint scrape of a chair against the floor.Emma steps out from her cubicle, holding a small bunch o
ALEXANDER’S POVThe hallway becomes quiet the moment I step in.It’s almost funny, how a place that runs with a bit of noise suddenly forgets how to breathe when I walk by. The small conversations die quickly and footsteps get slower. Some lower their eyes, others pretend to be busy.They think I don’t notice the side glances and the nervous half-smiles. But I do. I always do.“Good morning, sir,” a young man in bow tie says too quickly as he walks by.I nod once, acknowledging him. Everything feels quite awkward. And it smells like the Jonah Hale situation.Everyone’s heard. Jonah’s arrest last night was bound to crawl its way into every corner of this building by morning. The man who smiled his way through meetings, who swore his loyalty, was caught dirty. And I enjoy the glances. It is soothing to know that everyone has in mind that they can be caught.I push my office door open, and breathe in the mild scent of lemon polish and remnant of my lingering cologne. My secretary is insi
EMMA’S POVThe chilly night air slaps my shoulders the moment I step out of The Velvet Room and I wish it would slap off the conversation Alex and I just had. I couldn’t bear it anymore and I’m going home.I feel heavy in my head as I walk towards my car and I hope I’m not intoxicated by the lounge and the drink. I don’t bother tucking my flying hair strands at the back of my ear. I stand beside my car, staring at the dark parking lot and the yellow light spilling from the street bulbs into the road.I drum my fingers lightly on the top of the car door while ruminating on my whole day as it felt like it was one week compressed into fifteen hours.Everything feels like too much, like a stubborn choker wrapped tightly around my neck: the kiss that didn’t happen earlier today, the arrest, the argument, the endless circle that always seems to lead back to him.I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, leaning on the car, and letting the cold metal sting my neck and my skin.While drowning in
EMMA’S POVI am seated alone and the bartender is polishing a glass in a slow, circular motion. Every few seconds, he glances toward the crowd, which is quite necessary, after the quick arrest.I drag a finger across the rim of my glass, tracing where beads have gathered. My drink is untouched, the ice halfway melted.I don’t even like being here.But I needed a place where no one would ask me questions and where everyone minds their own sins.I take a small sip and it burns my throat mildly, reminding me that I’m still awake.The last twelve hours have felt like a week.I can still see Alex’s face earlier today, that cold, unreadable look he gets whenever something doesn’t go his way. We were in his office. A meeting that started professional and ended with me slamming the door just so I wouldn’t say something I’d regret.He has that effect on me: pulls me in, drags something raw out of me, then leaves me gasping like I ran through fire.And yet, here I am, thinking about him.I hate
ALEXANDER’S POVThe club air is thick with bass, perfume, and smoke curling up. I push open the glass door and step into the dimness, the scent of alcohol and something sweet hitting me first. People are laughing too loud, lights flashing red and gold; the fun kind of chaos.The Velvet Room is filled with music and laughter — low lights, dark velvet seats, and a scent that’s equal parts whiskey, perfume, and sin. I step inside, my coat brushing against someone’s arm, I move past a couple pressed against the wall, past a group of men in suits nursing whiskey like the world depends on it. For a second, I stand in an empty spot, letting my eyes adjust to the dim glow.Then I see Emma.I’m taken aback for a bit.She’s sitting alone in one of the corner booths, facing slightly away from the crowd. Her mocktail sits untouched in front of her, the rim fogged from melted ice. Her phone glows in her hand as she scrolls, half-distracted, half-somewhere else entirely. Her hair falls loosely over
ALEXANDER’S POVThe sound of the door closing after her echoes through the room.For a long time I just stand there, hands in my pockets, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened.She looks at me like I crossed some invisible line.And maybe I have.I never planned to try to kiss her. It isn’t some known move. It is instinct — something that happens before reason has time to interfere. One second she is standing there, eyes soft and uncertain, and the next I am leaning in like a man who has forgotten the difference between business and desire.She steps back so fast it burns.Then she is gone.Now the air in the office feels heavier than it should. I exhale slowly, jaw tightening.Why did I even try to do that?The answer hits me — it is because I want to. Because every time she looks at me with that guarded fire in her eyes, something in me cracks open.But it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter.Sophia brushes through my thoughts like a curse. I run a hand through my hair, pa







