Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire's Virgin Surrogate: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Evelyn’s POVBy the time Evelyn stepped out of the agency’s glass doors, her lungs burned. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath through most of that meeting.Her legs felt heavy, her chest tight, and every word Damian Blackwood had said still rang in her ears.Natural.Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t the most humiliating, arrogant thing a man could demand.Heat rushed to her face all over again. She replayed the moment she snapped. You’re an asshole. It had slipped out before she could stop herself. She’d expected him to explode, to sneer, to throw her out.But no.Damian had looked almost… amused.That unsettled her more than his demand.Carmen was waiting across the hallway, pacing by the corridor. When she sighted Evelyn, she ran over. “Well? What happened? You look like you just wrestled a bear.”Evelyn let out a shaky laugh that cracked halfway. “Worse. I met Damian Blackwood.”They went into the nearest café, Carmen dragging her to a corner bo

Evelyn’s POVThe first morning in the Blackwood mansion felt calm and magical.Sunlight spilled across the room through the tall windows, painting golden streaks across the velvet drapes and polished floors. The air smelled faintly of roses drifting in from the gardens.For a moment, Evelyn let herself sink fully into the soft mattress, almost forgetting where she was. Almost.Then the knock came.“Miss Carter,” a maid’s voice echoed through the door. “Breakfast is served.”Evelyn dragged herself up, her hair a tangle, her throat dry. She washed up quickly, pulled on a simple blouse and jeans, clothes that looked embarrassingly plain compared to the marble-and-silk world outside her door.When she stepped into the corridor, her footsteps echoed against high ceilings. Portraits of grim-faced Blackwood ancestors lined the walls, their eyes following her. She swallowed hard.The dining hall was already set when she arrived. Gregory sat at the head of the table, newspa

Evelyn's POV The car ride to the hospital felt more like an escort than transportation.Evelyn sat stiffly in the leather seat of the luxury vehicle, clutching her purse on her lap as though it could anchor her. The tinted windows kept the bustling city blurred and distant, making her feel as if she were watching life from behind glass.Across from her, Damian Blackwood scrolled through his phone, calm and composed as always. His stillness irritated her. He looked like a man immune to nerves, to doubt, to the weight of decisions. Everything about him was polished control, from the line of his jaw to the sharp cut of his tailored suit.Evelyn envied that control. For her, every breath on the way to this evaluation felt like borrowed air.The silence pressed in until it became unbearable. Evelyn shifted in her seat, twisting the strap of her purse between her fingers.Damian’s voice cut through the quiet, smooth but cold. “Stop fidgeting.”Her head snapped up. “I

Vanessa’s POVVanessa Hart pressed the ring button on the sleek glass panel beside Damian Blackwood’s penthouse gate. The sound was loud in the empty corridor, echoing back against marble and steel.She waited, one manicured hand poised on her hip, lips curved in a practiced smile. Any second now, one of the guards would step outside, recognize her, and let her in. She was Vanessa, after all. Damian’s woman. His only real lover. The woman he always came back to.The gate didn’t open.Instead, the guard stationed by the entrance stepped forward. His expression was flat, impassive. “Miss Hart.”Vanessa arched a brow, her smile tightening. “Good evening. You can open the door. Damian’s expecting me.”The guard didn’t flinch. “Mr. Blackwood isn’t in residence.”The words scraped against her composure. She tilted her head, lashes fluttering. “Not in residence? That’s ridiculous. He always spends his nights here.”The man’s stance didn’t shift. “He hasn’t been here for

Damian’s POVThe storm had stopped sometime before dawn. Damian knew because he had heard the rain fade into silence, the steady beat on the roof reducing until only the occasional drip from the leaves remained. Now, at seven in the morning, the estate felt washed clean. The air carried a freshness he rarely noticed in New York, sharp and cool, sliding through the slightly open window of his bedroom.He sat at the edge of his bed, tying the cuff of his shirt with deliberate precision. His movements were practiced, automatic, as though he could will order into himself by keeping his appearance flawless. It was a habit cultivated long ago, when Gregory’s eyes would run over him at breakfast and the smallest wrinkle in his shirt would earn a lecture on discipline.But this morning, Damian’s concentration shifted. His thoughts drifted where he didn’t want them to.Evelyn.He had seen her last night, framed by the candlelight when the power went out, the flicker of the