- Ace-
The view from the top floor did little to soothe the chaos in my head. Manhattan sprawled beneath me like a machine—relentless, merciless, efficient. Just like me. At least, that's what I'd built myself to be.
I built everything to bring shame to my father who described me as nothing. I could only be a fraction of his wealth.
All I have now I built to prove I could be anything I want. The best tech tycoon and I had so many businesses.
I clasped the crystal tumbler in my hand, the drink inside untouched. I didn't drink. I hated the idea of losing control. But sometimes I needed the ritual—something familiar to hold on to besides it helped to clear my head.
I pressed the button on the wall, and the lights dimmed, bathing my office in a cool gray wash. My schedule was stacked for the day. Board calls, security briefings, legal reviews. But all I could think about was her.
Hazel.
That name doesn't mean anything to me. It was just another name on another contract. The surrogate.
My surrogate. I didn't need to do this. I needed a wife but I've vowed never to do that. Women will turn on you.
My security was able to get details about her. She was good to go but with a very touching story.
I didn't like how the thought settled in my chest. I didn't want to claim her. I didn't want to feel anything about her at all. That wasn't part of the plan.
I'd spent the last two years erasing weakness. I had rules. Boundaries. Every part of this operation was designed to keep emotion out of it.
I never met the candidates. Never spoke to them. Never needed to.
When the doctor sent over the final file I specifically asked he didn't send her pictures. I didn't want to anything to do with knowing this person. But something about her file just struck me.
I should've ignored it. Should've handed the entire matter off to my assistant and moved on.
But instead, I'd gone to the hospital myself. I told myself it was to assess the facility. That was a lie. I wanted to see how she'd handle the procedure.
And the second I did, everything I'd spent years building cracked—just a little.
She was breathtaking in a way I hated. Raw. Real. Unpolished. The fact that her face was hidden made my hair stand. She was calm as Dr Freeman worked.
She's not yours, I reminded myself.
This was a transaction. A means to an end. I needed an heir—one that was biologically mine. Not because I cared about passing on some sentimental legacy, but because power needed a name. And blood carried weight.
And I would not be the last Milan to hold it.
There was a knock on the glass.
Jasper, my head of security, entered without waiting for permission.
"The procedure is done."
I didn't move. "How did she take it?"
"Shocked, but compliant. The medical team says she's ready. She'll be brought to your second estate right after."
I nodded once. "Good."
"Do you want to see her before—?"
"No."
"Understood."
But it wasn't understood. Not really. Because even as the word left my mouth, I wasn't sure I meant it. Part of me wanted to see her again. To study her. Understand what it was about her that made my well-ordered life tilt slightly off center.
"She's living with her mother?"
"Yes. The mother's health is failing."
That hit harder than expected.
"Does the girl know the full extent of the contract?" I asked.
"Yes. She signed it. No attachments. No contact. Complete confidentiality."
"She'll break it."
Jasper blinked. "Sir?"
"She'll grow attached. They always do."
"But she's different?"
"No," I said too quickly.
But she might.
That was the damn problem.
Later that evening, I sat in the northern wing of my penthouse, in a room I rarely visited. It used to be hers—Clara's. Now it sat sealed most days, collecting dust.
Clara would have been a mother by now. If she hadn't lied. If she hadn't destroyed everything.
She's gone now, but her betrayal hasn't left me.
I wouldn't make the same mistake again. This time, I was in control. This time, there were rules.
And Hazel? She was simply playing a part.
But even as I told myself that, I could still see her face—turned toward me with hesitant eyes, with a voice too soft, too warm, too human.
The next morning arrived faster than I liked.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, adjusting my cufflinks. They were silver, engraved with the family crest—a lion wrapped around a crown. Symbols meant to represent dominance. Ruthlessness. Power.
Three things I was never allowed to lose.