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Just A Vessel: The Surrogate's Escape

Just A Vessel: The Surrogate's Escape

I went to the bank to set up a trust fund for my twins, only to have the manager look at me with pity. "Mrs. Dunlap, the trust requires the *biological* mother's signature." I froze. I *was* their mother. Or so I thought. That day, I learned my husband, the most powerful Mafia Don on the coast, had used his ex-lover’s frozen eggs. For six years, I wasn't his wife. I was just the incubator. When his "true love," Iliana, returned from exile, my life disintegrated. My children, poisoned by her lies, pushed me down the stairs and called me "just the nanny." Gavyn didn't help me up. He stepped over my bleeding body to take his "real family" out for ice cream. But the ultimate betrayal happened on a windswept cliff. Staged by Iliana, we were both tied up, allegedly rigged to explode. Forced to choose who to save, Gavyn didn't hesitate. He cut Iliana loose. "You did this to yourself, Alex," he said, driving away with the children, leaving me to die. He thought he was leaving behind a corpse. He didn't know I had skimmed ten million dollars from the household accounts. "Cut me loose," I told the hitman, transferring the money. "And tell him the ocean took me." Two years later, the Don is on his knees in my garden, begging for a second chance. Too bad he has to get through my new fiancé first—the head of the rival cartel.
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Chapter 3

Alex POV The wave of relief on Gavyn's face was both instantaneous and deeply insulting. He let out a breath he had been holding, his shoulders dropping an inch. "Good," he muttered, absently adjusting his cuffs. "We don't need another complication right now." He reached out to graze my shoulder—a reflex of ownership. I flinched so violently I nearly collided with the mirror. "Don't," I warned. He pulled his hand back, visibly annoyed. "Fine. Clean yourself up. Put a bandage on that leg. You're bleeding on the rug." He turned to leave, assuming the storm had passed. Assuming I would fold like I always did. "Sign the papers, Gavyn," I said. He stopped dead at the door. I walked past him into the study, limping, leaving a trail of crimson droplets on the pristine hardwood. I picked up the document I had drafted. "Termination of Union," I read aloud, my voice steady despite the pain. "I want a clean break. No alimony. No custody battles. You keep the kids. You keep the money." He turned around, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "You're bluffing. You wouldn't leave them. You're obsessed with being a mother." "They aren't mine," I said simply. "You made sure of that." I pushed the paper toward him across the mahogany desk. "I just want one thing. The commercial property on Elm Street. The old bakery." It was a dilapidated building, worth pennies compared to his empire. A strategic distraction. He laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "That rat trap? You want to leave the Dunlap Estate for a crumbling bakery?" "It's all I ask." He snatched the pen from the desk. He didn't bother to read the fine print. He didn't read the clause about the non-disclosure agreement being voided if I was harmed. He didn't read the section about my complete legal immunity. He just wanted to shut me up. He scrawled his signature—*Gavyn Dunlap*—in aggressive, jagged strokes. "There," he said, tossing the pen down. "Now stop this tantrum. Go to your room. We have the gala to plan next week." He walked out without looking back. I stood there, staring at the signature that set me free. I didn't go to our bedroom. I went to the guest wing on the far side of the estate. I locked the door. Then, gritting my teeth against the pain in my leg, I pushed the heavy dresser in front of it. For the next three days, the Dunlap household fell into absolute chaos. I stopped. I stopped approving the weekly menu for the cook. I stopped laying out Gavyn's suits. I stopped organizing the twins' schedule. By day two, I could hear the shouting from down the hall. "Where is my gray suit?" Gavyn roared at Maria. "I don't know, sir! Mrs. Dunlap usually sends it to the cleaners!" By day three, the children were crying. "I don't want this!" I heard Kaelynn screaming. "The chef made it wrong! I want Mommy's mac and cheese!" Gavyn pounded on my door that evening. "Alex! Open this goddamn door!" I sat on the bed, reading a book, nursing my healing leg. "Alex! The kids are sick. They ate too much candy because no one was watching them. You need to deal with this." "Ask Iliana," I shouted back. "Iliana is a guest! You are the wife!" "Not anymore," I whispered to myself. "Open up, or I break this door down!" "I'm injured, Gavyn," I yelled, my voice calm. "Remember? I fell down the stairs. I'm on bed rest. Doctor's orders." There was a heavy silence. He knew he couldn't force me without admitting he had let me get hurt. "You are pushing me, Alex," he growled through the wood. "And you know what happens to people who push me." "I resign, Gavyn," I said, staring at the barricaded door. "I resign from this family."

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