Bound To The Billionaire's Cruel Contract

Carissa's fingers dug into the cold metal handrail of the hospital corridor. Her knuckles had gone white. Her heart pounded against her ribs, matching the steady tick of the wall clock. Every second that passed without Dr. Adler walking through those glass doors pressed down on her chest, made it hard to pull air in.

The elevator at the end of the sterile hallway chimed.

Guilford Gates stepped out. Two massive bodyguards flanked him, his long strides eating up the distance fast. The air in the corridor dropped ten degrees. He wore a tailored charcoal suit that screamed money and power, but it was the flat, frozen look in his dark eyes that hollowed out Carissa's stomach.

His gaze swept over her pale face. He didn't slow down. A low scoff left his lips, thick with contempt, hitting her like a slap.

Carissa bit the inside of her cheek. Blood, metallic and warm, grounded her. She wanted to scream at him, to fight back against the gold-digger label he'd branded her with four years ago. But her son was lying in the ICU behind her. She swallowed the humiliation. It burned all the way down.

The glass doors to the lab pushed open. Dr. Adler walked out, a thin manila folder in his hands. His shoulders slumped. Deep lines cut across his forehead.

Carissa lunged forward. Her legs, numb from hours of standing on that hard floor, buckled. She stumbled toward the polished tile.

Guilford's hand shot out. He gripped her upper arm through her cheap trench coat, his fingers digging in just enough to steady her. The second she found her balance, he let go. He wiped his hand against his slacks like he'd touched something filthy.

Dr. Adler let out a heavy breath. He wouldn't meet Carissa's eyes. "The bone marrow match failed."

The words sucked all the air out of the hallway.

A roar filled Carissa's ears. Hot tears spilled over her lashes, burning her cold cheeks. She grabbed the lapels of the doctor's white coat, her fingers shaking hard. "Test it again. Please. You have to test it again."

Guilford's jaw ticked. A muscle feathered under his skin. He reached out, grabbed Carissa by the back of her collar, and yanked her away from the doctor. "Give me the backup plan," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. "Now."

Dr. Adler wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "There is one last option. Highly risky. A savior sibling. Natural conception, to create a perfect donor match."

Carissa's eyes went wide. She stumbled backward, her spine hitting the cold wall with a hard thud.

Guilford's eyes narrowed to slits. He stepped toward the doctor. "Why not IVF? I'm not wasting time."

"Her hormone levels are dangerously erratic." The doctor pulled up Carissa's charts on his tablet, turning the screen toward Guilford. "Success rate for in-vitro right now is under ten percent. It would waste crucial time. Natural conception is the only viable path."