Escaping The Billionaire's Deadly Surrogate Trap

Blaire forced her heavy eyelids open.

The harsh morning light pouring through the floor to ceiling windows of the Manhattan penthouse suite pierced her vision. She let out a muffled groan. Her throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

She placed her palms flat against the mattress, attempting to push her upper body up. The moment she shifted, a tearing pain ripped through her lower half. Her breath hitched. Her heart slammed against her ribs in a sudden, violent rhythm.

She looked down. Her skin was bare, covered in blossoming red marks. Her brain flatlined. A cold, suffocating terror gripped her lungs.

She grabbed the thick duvet and yanked it up to her chin. The sudden movement pulled at her sore muscles. Cold sweat instantly broke out across her forehead, dampening her hairline.

A low, mocking scoff echoed from the corner of the room.

The sound sliced through her panic. Blaire froze, then slowly turned her stiff neck toward the shadows.

Kamryn Lane sat in a single leather armchair. The sheer physical presence of the man sucked the oxygen out of the room.

He took his time, methodically buttoning the cuff of his custom tailored shirt. His dark eyes swept over her. It was the look a man gave a cheap, defective product on a store shelf. The humiliation burned the back of her throat.

Blaire opened her mouth. She tried to ask him what happened, but her vocal cords refused to work. Only a weak, raspy breath escaped her lips.

Kamryn stood up. His long legs closed the distance to the bed in three strides. His massive shadow swallowed her completely. Blaire instinctively pressed her back against the headboard, pulling her knees to her chest.

He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a checkbook. He uncapped a fountain pen and scribbled a string of numbers. His movements were sharp, radiating impatient disgust.

He flicked his wrist. The signed check fluttered through the air and hit Blaire perfectly in the face. The crisp edge of the paper sliced a tiny, stinging papercut across her cheek.

The check fell to her lap. Blaire looked down. One million dollars. The sheer absurdity of the number hit her like a physical blow. Hot tears of absolute degradation welled in her eyes.

Kamryn warned her to take the money, keep her mouth shut, and get out. His voice was ice. He called her a calculating gold digger who schemed her way into his bed. Every word crushed another piece of her dignity.

Blaire grabbed the check. Her hands shook violently as she ripped the thick paper in half. She threw the torn pieces at his chest. Her voice cracked as she denied his accusations, the raw sound tearing from her throat.

Kamryn easily dodged the falling paper. His eyes darkened, the hostility deepening at her defiance. He leaned over the bed and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him.