Chapter 3 - Damian's Resistance

Damian sat in silence, the weight of his father's ultimatum pressing against his chest like iron shackles. The penthouse was dark except from the reflection from the nearby city lights entering through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Everything seemed perfect, but Damian knows better.

He stood at the bar, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. His reflection stared back at him from the window, his cold eyes enough to freeze the night.

No heir. No inheritance.

His father's words had not left him since the meeting. They echoed louder than the noise from the city traffic.

Gregory didn't care and is not requesting for marriage. He didn't care about love. All he wanted was a child to uphold the name and the legacy.

Damian's hand tightening around the cup, veins popping out.

A child wasn't an heir, a child was innocence. A child was supposed to be born from love, from softness, from things his world has never given him. He had a flashback of his mother's voice, faint, soft and full of love. She had tried to protect him when he was young, to shield him from Gregory's cold hand. But Gregory always won. Always.

He had learnt early that emotions had no place in the Blackwood name.

Damian set the half-full glass down on the counter.

Love was weakness. Marriage was a cage. He would never submit to either. His father thought he could manipulate him, but Damian is a grown man now, and he would rather burn down all the boardrooms in New York before letting Gregory chain him like that.

But, beneath the fury comes a thought. What if Gregory is right?

The company wasn't just huge figures and buildings, it was power, control. And it carried his name, his legacy. Without it? He would be just another man in New York with money. Disposable, replaceable.

Evelyn's POV

Across the city, Evelyn Carter sat crossed leg on her bed in her tiny shared apartment. She couldn't sleep, bills were scattered across the floor like open wounds, reminding her of her struggles. Her roommate (Carmen) was asleep, breathing softly and peacefully from the other side of the thin wall.

But Evelyn couldn't, her mind was disturbed.

She picked the envelopes containing the evidence of her struggles. One after the other, overdue rent, unpaid loan installments, notices stamped in red. Her chest tightened with each one, but she can't cry, she just can't. Crying would not solve any of these.

She thought of Carmen's words.

Surrogacy. “You could make more in nine months than in five years here”, she recalled Carmen's words.

She hugged the papers to her chest, eyes stinging.

Could she really do it? Carry a stranger's child? Sell her body, her womb, for money?

But then, she thought of her deceased parents. Their debts. Their absence. The way she had worked herself since she was sixteen just to keep breathing.

Her lips trembled, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Maybe survival required choices she had once thought unthinkable.

Her hands trembled , as she grabbed her phone. Carmen had saved the agency's number a few weeks. She stared at it now, still contemplating.

She didn't call, not yet. But the number sat in her phone, occupying the little space.

Damian's POV

The night dragged on slowly. Damian removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing the jacket on the sofa, he poured himself yet again another cup of whiskey, trying to numb the feelings making a turmoil in his mind.

He was halfway lifting the cup to his lips when the soft chime of the elevator broke

the silence.

Who could that be? He wants expecting anyone. And, nobody came to his penthouse uninvited. Nobody.

The glass doors slid open revealing Vanessa.

Vanessa stepped out, in a changed outfit from the one she had on earlier but still clinging her curves, her lips painted the same blood red as a couple of hours ago when she left.

Her eyes glittered with determination. With hunger.

“Miss me already?” she asked, her voice sultry and dangerous.

Damian's jaw tightened. The glass in his hand didn't reach his lips.

She had come back. And she wasn't here to play. He knew that.