The Billionaire's Virgin Surrogate

“You'll never carry my heir.”

Damian said, with all seriousness and no hint of play or joke.

He stood before the huge window, hands tucked in his pockets, shoulders squared inside a neatly tailored suit. The city looked busy and colorful, but his eyes? They were colder than the skyline. Gray and glacial, they fixed on the glass as if New York was an opponent he refused to bow to.

On the sofa, Vanessa Hart froze. Her bright red painted lips parted, just enough to betray the surprise. She had come here, certain of her ability, certain that her looks, her curves and confidence were things he had never resisted and wouldn't resist. But his words, sharp, deliberate, hurtful.

Her lashes lowered and her face fell, disappointment flickered across her face, hiding her wounded pride. When she lifted them again, her eyes glittered with determination and something harder. A slow smile curved her mouth, practiced and dangerous.

“Never?” she repeated, her voice husky and shaky. She rose with elegance, the silk dress she wore clinging to every part of her body as she walked on the marble floor. “ Damian, you're forgetting who I am. I've been the woman by your side when no one else dared get close. I've warmed your bed, I've given you my body, I've given you loyalty, discretion, pleasure. What more do you think you'll find, huh Damian?

Finally, he turned.

Damian's eyes met hers and their gaze locked,non flinching. The space between them seemed to freeze. The silence carried weight, until he finally let the verdict fall.

“You're not pure enough.”

Her masked expression cracked, eyes widened,nose flaring and lips parting in belief. For a second, anger and humiliation flared in her face. But Vanessa never let weakness show to the outside world. She forced a laugh,short but sharp, the echoing loud and properly concealing the turmoil inside her.

“Pure?” she repeated, the word bitter and unpleasant to her ears. She tilted her head, hair spilling over one shoulder, “ Is that what matters to you? Purity doesn't secure billion dollar empires, Damian. I can give you power, influence and in fact, everything.”

Damian moved forward, closing the distance, towering over her until the heels she had on seemed useless. His jaw visibly hard, his gaze cold and his voice merciless.

“You've given enough. But when it comes to my heir, ambition disguised as devotion won't taint my bloodline.”

Her throat tightened, a tremor running down her hand as she lifted her hand to his chest. Finger nails painted bright red matching her red lips. Fingertips traced the button of his suit,desperate for a change in his words. “You really think you'll find someone better than me?” she whispered. “Someone who will ever understand you?”

His hand shot up,closing around her wrist. Not harsh,but resisting its movement. He lowered her hand, rejecting its touch as if it were poison.

“This isn't about being understood,” he said,voice extremely low,edged with finality. “And it will never be you.”

The silence after was a void.

For the first time,her smile faltered completely,she couldn't mask the pain. Her lips trembled before she pressed them tightly into a venomous smile. Eyes burning with determination as she snatched her wrist, breaking free of his hold.

“You'll regret this, Damian Blackwood”, she spat,her voice laced with fury. “Men like you always do.”

She stepped back,took her purse from the sofa and stormed towards the elevator,heels striking the marble like gunshots. The door closed behind her, concealing her figure from view.

Damian didn't move. He turned back to the window, the city lights shining bright, reflecting in his eyes like fractured glass. His reflection stared back, tall, cold, untouchable, but beneath the façade, something unspoken twisted in his chest. He buried it the way he had always done.

The room remained silent until the buzz from his phone broke it. His phone lit on the glass table.

From: Gregory Blackwood

Come to the estate. Immediately.

Damian’s jaw tightened after reading his father's message.

He slipped the phone into his pocket. The message sounded urgent, he took his car keys and drove into the city. For the first time in years, the weight of his father's message pressed heavier than the empire he controlled.