Ch. Eight months pregnant 9 Eight months pregnant 9

C 

Chaper 9 

Celia stood at the rusted iron gate of the Charity Orphanage, the wind biting against her cheeks | 

This was her 257th day in Chicago 

A new city. A life stripped of illusion 

She had just seen the last group of children off to school. They had waved to her with bright smiles and innocent laughter, and for a fleeting moment, she almost believed life might not be so cruel after all] 

Then, the silence shattered 

A black Maybach glided to a stop in front of the orphanage–sleek, discreet, and undeniably expensive. 

The tinted window rolled down slowly to reveal a face too sharp to be kind.] 

He had the sort of beauty that felt carved, not born–clean lines, cold eyes, and not even the courtesy of a smile.[] 

“You’re Celia Ashford? 

Her fingers stiffened on the gate. That name had been buried months ago. But somehow, it still followed her 

“Yes,” she said cautiously. 

The door opened, and the man stepped out. He was tall and imposing, dressed immaculately in a tailored coat. Every step carried precision, every glance calculated. 

Tm Alexander Ian.“] 

Her heart gave the faintest lurch 

That name she knew. She had seen it plastered across the headers of foundation donation documents for weeks. 

He was the silent power behind one of the largest philanthropic conglomerates in Chicago || 

And lately, the subject of every financial blog- 

The heir who refused to marry, refused love, and now stood to lose billions 

“I came to talk business,” Alexander said, voice low and impersonal.[] 

“If it’s about another donation, we’re fine.” Her tone was clipped [] 

“It’s not about the orphanage. His eyes pinned her in place. “It’s about you.“] 

Celia’s lips curled in something between anusement and disdain. “You want to make a deal with a woman who was nearly murdered by her husband seven times? || 

Alexander blinked, the only crack in his otherwise impenetrable calm. He clearly didn’t expect her to say it outright. 

But she had nothing left to lose 

dht my research,” he said after a moment. “You were the tech hackbone behind Ravenscroft Corp. You built it, then burned it to the ground:”[] 

“You’re sharp. Ruthless. Clean. I need someone like you.” 

Celia’s voice turned to ice. “What exactly do you need? 

He pulled a folder from his coat and handed it to her. “A child. My inheritance is locked behind a condition–I must have a biological heir. I want you to carry that child.“||| 

Celia looked at the folder, then up at him as if he had lost his mind. 

“You must be insane. 

won’t marry. I don’t believe in love. I don’t need a wife–just an heir. One that’s mine, and legally mine only.” 

She folded her arms. “You think I’d still agree to have a child for a man after everything I’ve been through?“] 

“You have a choice,” he replied, blunt as steel. You can stay here and keep struggling, or you can give those kids the life you dreamed of I’m offering the means. 

“And in return, you own my body?” 

He didn’t flinch. “No. Just the child. You’d have legal protections. It’s a transaction. Nothing more. 

Celia laughed, cold and soft. “If you knew what it cost me to love some 

someone once, you’d never offer me this,” 

They stared at each other in silence, two people molded by betrayal, refusing to flinch first.] 

Eventually, she exhaled. “Fine. Your way, then.” 

Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly, registering her tone.] 

“But one condition,” she added, her voice sharpening. “You said you don’t want love? Good. Because I’m done loving anyone. 

“I’ve loved once in my life. It nearly killed me.“|| 

jabbed a finger toward herself. 

“You want this body? You get the scars too. But don’t ever think I’ll g 

I give you more than that“] 

Alexander stared at her, unreadable. Then, finally, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.] 

Deal“] 

That night, Alexander returned to the lan estate. The house was silent, cold in its perfection 

He didn’t take off his coat 

Instead, he walked straight to the study, where stacks of legal documents sat waiting–unavoidable, demanding. 

He sat, flipping through page after page of fine print, his fingers moving but his mind still lingering on Celia Ashford 

Damn!She was trouble. But necessary. 

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