Chapter 2

Damien's point of view

The lighting in this room was way too bright, and since I can't use sunglasses inside a building without looking like an anxious loser, I was forced to stay still and watch my lawyer read the will again.

"Sir, I've checked three times. There are no loopholes." Beads of sweat on his forehead were beginning to turn into droplets.

"Check again." I waved him off, trying to figure out a way to fix my eyesight without squinting.

"There are no loopholes, Dam." Grandfather said, from the head of the table.

Fuck.

I blinked twice and he was gone.

Of course Grandfather wasn't there. How could he be? The man was dead, had been dead for two months.

I would know, since I slashed his throat and then my own arm to make it look like an attack.

It's funny, no one ever cared to investigate deep into the matter. They all also wanted him dead. Bunch of greedy conniving parasite.

As if waiting to be remembered, the wound sprang into action, stinging me.

I wasn't a parasite though, I worked for this, I worked hard. The company was my right, I built it to where it is now.

The man was in the way of what is rightfully mine.

"Sir. There's no way out. You either have a child within two years of the late—" he paused, "—or you forfeit the company."

Of course, he just had to double cross me, even in death he was still a pain in my ass.

I hate that damned man.

I gave everything to that company, lost everything to that company, and now he expects me to just forfeit it? In his dreams. Oh — he can't dream anymore.

"And two months have passed since his death," the lawyer added, nodding.

"You have twenty-two months to produce an heir. A pregnancy doesn't count — the child has to have been born."

"So basically, I have thirteen months." I tapped on the table, my fingers bouncing on and off.

"You could think of it that way, sir." Fredrick, my lawyer, would agree the sky was pink if I or any of his other clients said so. It's pathetic if you think about it.

"What do I do then? Does adoption count?" He shook his head.

"The will doesn't say you have to be married, though."

I shot my brows up, waiting for him to continue. "So?" I asked when he didn't.

"There's always the option of — surrogacy."

Surrogacy? Had this man finally gone mad?

"You want me to have a child with a woman I don't have the faintest clue who she is?"

"Apologies, sir. I just thought since you couldn't find a—"

"You think I can't find a woman who'd want to carry my child without being paid?" I finished for him.

"No, not at all, sir. I just thought that maybe if you didn't want to be with a—"

"Fredrick." I leaned back in the chair.

"Sir?" He straightened his back.

"Do you think I'm gay?"

His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. The reaction was priceless.

"Relax, I'm just messing with you." I laughed, and he followed suit, his laugh breaking nervously.

Coward.

"Surrogacy sounds fine. Have it arranged as quickly as possible. I'll meet with the women myself before any conclusion is made."

"Yes, yes. Okay, sir."

I put my shades back on before getting up, bag in hand.

Never again in my life did I think I'd have a child. Not with someone else.

I saw her by the door — covered in blood from the waist down, more blood gushing, while she held a little girl. A mini her.

She was gone in the blink of an eye, but I still muttered an "I'm sorry." Because I was.

I'll forever be.