บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire's Private Arrangement : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Damian's POV “You will never carry my heir.” Damian Blackwood said it without turning around. He stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders squared beneath an impeccably tailored suit. New York glittered below him—restless, alive, obedient. From this height, the city looked exactly how he liked it: distant and controllable. The room fell silent. Vanessa Hart had not expected those words. She had walked into his house confidently, certain of herself this time around, dressed to seduce. Years at his side had taught her confidence, and somehow, she felt he'd concur and accept her offer, because he had been waving it off stylishly. She never thought he'd decline, talk more of saying she'll never carry his child. “Never?” she asked finally, her voice unsteady despite her effort to keep it smooth. “Damian… that’s not funny.” He turned then. Vanessa rose slowly from the sofa, her long legs unfolding with practiced eleganc

Damian's POV 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 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 innocent. 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, fai

Evelyn's POV Evelyn had arrived at the gallery long before the doors opened, carrying a tote bag that held nothing but a notebook, a pen, and her ever-present sense of unease. The marble lobby gleamed in the morning light, polished and cold. High ceilings reflected the faint sound of footsteps, the soft hum of chandeliers settling after a long night, and the distant murmur of the city beyond the thick glass walls. She sighed, adjusting the strap of her apron, already feeling the familiar ache in her shoulders and back. Today would be long, she knew it from the moment she stepped out of the cab. She had agreed to volunteer because Carmen insisted it was “good exposure,” but exposure didn’t pay her rent, didn’t reduce the looming debts, and definitely didn't stop the collectors from calling three times a day. “This is all Carmen’s idea,” she muttered under her breath, scanning the pristine artwork lining the walls. Each painting was perfectly positioned, framed in gold, cared for wit

Gregory's POV Fire crackled from the hearth, shadows dancing against the bookshelves in the study. Gregory sat in his chair, his cane resting against the arm of the chair, a glass of his favourite wine cradled in his hand. He was old, yes. But age had not dulled him, rather it had sharpened him, whittled away the softness until he remained cold and calculative. His son thought himself clever. Thought himself immune, but Gregory knew better. He had spent a lifetime molding Damian into a cold, emotionless person, just like a stone. Breaking him down and shaping him into someone that could withstand the world and rule it. Love was weakness, women were distractions and emotions? They had no place in legacy. And yet, ironically, it was a woman that would secure the future of their bloodline. Gregory's mind drifted to the charity event, to the girl who stood out and caught his attention, not with diamonds or expensive dresses, but with humility and respect. Evelyn. She had been n