
The Billionaire's $500,000 baby
The Billionaire's $500,000 Baby
"Sign the contract. Give me an heir. Then, disappear."
Liora Hayes has sixty minutes.
$500,000 or her mother dies.
No money. No hope. No way out.
Then Darian Volkov walks in.
The ruthless "Ice King" of Luminaire Corp doesn't want her heart. He wants an heir.
The deal is simple:
1. Carry his child.
2. Get the money.
3. Never return.
But the Volkov mansion is a gilded cage. Inside, Liora finds a lethal secret: Darian didn't choose her by chance. He is the son of the man who destroyed her father.
Now, she is carrying the baby of her greatest enemy.
The debt was paid in blood. The contract was signed in lies.
What happens when the Ice King refuses to let his "asset" go?
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Chapter 8
Liora’s Pov
The heater in the back of the car was blasting. I could feel the hot air hitting my ankles, but it didn't matter. I was cold from the inside out. My wet uniform was starting to steam slightly, filling the small space with the scent of damp polyester and the grease of the diner.
Xavier didn't even look at me. He was focused on his tablet, his thumb scrolling through lines of data. He looked so calm. So clean. I looked at the leather seat beneath me. I was leaving a damp, dark patch where I sat. I felt like a stray dog someone had picked up by mistake.
"You said service at the hospital," I said. My voice was small, but it cut through the hum of the engine.
Xavier didn't look up. "I did."
"Are you sure it’s what you explained? About the… surrogacy? You make it sound like a business deal, but I'm not a business. I'm a person."
He finally turned his head. His eyes were dark, and his smile didn't reach them. "Liora, everything is a business deal if the price is high enough. And don't worry about being a person. For the next nine months, you aren't a person. You’re an environment. An optimal health zone."
"That’s disgusting," I whispered.
"Is it? Is it more disgusting than your landlord throwing your mother’s jazz records into a puddle? Is it more disgusting than a hospital billing department telling you that your mother’s heart isn't worth the cost of the electricity to keep it beating?Be for real Miss Hayes"
I flinched. The air in the car suddenly felt too thin. "How do you know about the records?"
"We know everything, Liora.I told you before" He tilted the tablet toward me. I saw a scanned copy of my birth certificate. My high school transcripts. My bank statement with its pathetic $12.40 balance.
"We know your father’s debt. We know your mother’s blood type. We even know that you’ve skipped lunch three times this week to buy her extra magazines she’s too tired to read."
"You've been stalking me," I said, my voice rising.
"We've been vetting you," he corrected smoothly. "Darian doesn't invest in unknowns. You’re perfect for the bloodline because you have no one to come looking for you. No brothers to demand a better price. No father to protect you. You’re a ghost, Liora. And ghosts are very easy to manage."
I gripped my father’s satchel tighter. I felt like I was disappearing. "Why him? Why Darian? He’s a billionaire. He could have anyone. Why does he need to buy a child from a waitress?"
Xavier laughed. It was a soft, dry sound. "Darian Volkov doesn't want 'anyone.' He wants an heir that belongs only to him. No messy marriage. No divorce lawyers. No emotional baggage. He wants a legacy that is pure. And you… you have the right eyes. The right history. You’re a Hayes. There's a certain… poetry to it."
"Poetry?" I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain.
"Your father and his father were… rivals," Xavier said, waving a hand dismissively. "Let’s just say Darian likes things that are rare. And a Hayes in his debt? That’s very rare. It’s a trophy, Liora. A very functional trophy."
"I'm not a trophy," I snapped. "I'm a human being who is trying to save her mother."
"Exactly," Xavier said, his eyes glinting. "And that's why you're so easy to control. A woman with a heart is a woman with a leash."
"Do you have one?" I asked, looking him dead in the eye. "A heart? Or did Darian buy that from you, too?"
Xavier’s expression didn't change, but his grip on the tablet tightened just a fraction. "My heart isn't part of the contract, Liora. Yours, however, is currently beating for two people. Let's keep it that way."
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a sharp, vibrating sting against my hip. I pulled it out.
The screen was cracked, but the notification was clear. It was a red banner.
EMERGENCY ALERT!!!!!: ST. JUDE’S CARDIAC UNIT.
My heart stopped. My thumb shook as I swiped the screen.
Patient: Evelyn Hayes. Heart rate erratic. Blood pressure dropping. Status: Critical.
"No," I breathed. "No, no, no. Not now. Not yet."
"Something wrong?" Xavier asked. He sounded like he was asking about the weather.
"My mom," I gasped. I held the phone out to him, my hand trembling so hard I almost dropped it. "She's crashing. The alert... they say she's dropping. Why aren't they moving her!? You said the Volkovs took the account! You said she was safe!"
Xavier looked at the phone, then at his watch. He didn't look worried in the slightest instead he looked bored. "They won't move her until the final authorization is signed, Liora. Not by me. By you."
"But she's dying!" I screamed. I tried to reach for the door handle, but the child locks were on. I hammered my fist against the window. "Tell them to start! Please! Just call them!"
"The doctors are standing by the elevator," Xavier said, his voice dropping to a low, terrifying crawl. "They have the transport van running. They have the specialist on the line. But Darian is a man of protocols. He doesn't pay for the meal until he sees the menu. He needs to see you. He needs to know you aren't going to flake out the moment things get difficult."
"I won't! I'm here! I'm in the car!"
"Being in the car isn't enough," Xavier said.
He reached over and gently pushed my phone back into my lap. The screen was still blinking red. A heartbeat that was fading away. "We’re two minutes from the building. The faster you walk, the faster she breathes. It’s that simple. If you want the hospital to stay quiet, you need to convince Darian you’re worth the investment."
"How?" I choked out. "Look at me! I'm wet, I'm shaking, I'm... I'm a mess!"
"Darian doesn't care about the mess," Xavier said, looking out the window as the lights of the city center began to swallow the car. "He cares about the core. Take a breath, Liora. Stop crying. If he sees you like this, he might decide you're too unstable for the bloodline. He wants a vessel of steel, not a puddle of tears. If he rejects you, I turn this car around, and your mother’s heart stops before we hit the highway."
I forced myself to breathe. It felt like inhaling needles. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, but more tears just took their place.
"That's better," Xavier lied. "Now, listen to me. When we get inside, do not speak unless he speaks to you. Do not touch anything. And for God's sake, don't mention your father. Darian has a long memory, and most of it is filled with people he’s destroyed."
"Is that what he’s going to do to me?" I asked. "Destroy me?"
Xavier looked at me then, and for the first time, I saw something that wasn't clinical. It was pity. Cold, hard pity. "He’s not going to destroy you, Liora. He’s going to use you. Sometimes, that’s worse."
The car slowed down. I looked up.
A massive glass monolith loomed over us. It was a hundred stories of black glass, cutting into the rainy sky like a jagged tooth.
LUMINAIRE.
The name was written in silver letters over the entrance. It looked like a tombstone for everyone who had ever failed to make it in this city.
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7.2
After a one night stand with the woman whose house Jason broke into, his life has never been the same. Like a siren's call, he can't get the nymphomaniac woman off his mind. Weeks later, while getting intel for the crew's next heist, Jason lays eyes upon the woman and follows her into a secret strip club. She appears to lead a double life. One where she's the CEO of a multimillion company and her father's golden child. The other side of her life is that she owns a strip club and is extremely erotic. Can Jason learn to live with her as she is? Will he put his pride aside to be with the woman? ... especially when his crew is hired to kidnap a woman who turns out to be the love of his life.

8.4
For twenty years, I lived as the adopted daughter of the wealthy Hill family.
But today, they forced me to sign a severance agreement and kicked me out so their precious biological daughter, Malia, could marry my fiancé.
To ruin me completely, they framed me for stealing Malia's engagement bracelet, threatening me with prison.
I calmly exposed the "sapphire" as cheap glass, then rolled up my sleeves to show the reporters my scarred, punctured arms.
For two decades, I wasn't a daughter. I was Malia's living blood and bone marrow bank.
They drained my health to keep her alive, even ordering doctors to ignore my failing organs just so she could attend a gala.
"Take this million dollars and shut your mouth," my adoptive father sneered, throwing a check at my feet.
My ex-fiancé looked at me with disgust, and Malia screamed that I was a crazy, vindictive liar.
They had stolen my life and my health, yet they still looked down on me like I was garbage.
I ripped the check into pieces and threw it in their faces.
Just as they ordered the butler to drag me out, a group of men in black suits shattered the chaos.
The heir of the untouchable Montgomery dynasty stepped through the door, ignoring the Hills' fawning, and handed me a DNA report.
I wasn't a disposable blood bag. I was the long-lost true heiress of old New York money.
And now, I was going to take back everything they stole from me.

8.5
Synopsis
It still feels so unreal being dumped by my boyfriend at the courtyard on the day of our wedding.
David didn't show up and when I called him to know the reason why.
He told me right to my face that he had found love with another woman who happened to be my best friend.
My heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces.
I was wallowing in self-pity when I overheard Lucas talking on the phone about needing a replacement for the woman who has collected a part-payment to be his wife.
I agreed to be his wife without thinking twice wanting to get back at my Ex.
What would happen when two strangers' hearts intertwined?
And what started as an arrangement became a bedrock for something real?
Read to find out.

7.1
For ten years, my family kept me locked away, forcing me to play the part of a broken, mentally unstable girl. They controlled me with sedatives and treated me like a ghost in my own home, a prisoner in a gilded cage.
But I had a secret. I was a world-famous anonymous artist with a hidden fortune, and I had an escape plan. On the day of my cousin's wedding, my rebellion was accidentally witnessed by a dangerous stranger who saw the predator beneath my fragile mask.
To silence him, I dragged him into a dark closet. The encounter turned raw and reckless, a violent collision I used as the perfect cover for my escape. I vanished with a new name and a one-way ticket to a new life, leaving him with nothing but a bloodstain and the bitter taste of betrayal.
I thought I was free, that I had successfully buried the girl I was forced to be and the man I was forced to use.
Three months later, on a superyacht in Monaco, he found me. He wasn't just some wealthy guest; he was the ruthless head of a powerful crime syndicate, and I was trapped in his private penthouse. He locked the door, his eyes black with possessive rage.
"The game is over," he whispered. "This time, you're not running."

7.2
Elmore Thomas rushed into the emergency room, clutching his feverish seven-year-old son, Buddy, tightly to his chest.
When the privacy curtain was pulled back, the air in Elmore's lungs vanished. The attending physician standing under the harsh lights was his wife, Kendal—the woman everyone believed had burned to death eight years ago.
But there was no tearful reunion. Kendal looked at him, and her eyes froze into impenetrable ice. She treated him like a biohazard, strictly referring to him as the family member.
Worse, she didn't recognize Buddy. She comforted their crying son with the same gentle warmth she used to reserve for Elmore, completely unaware she was soothing the baby she thought had died.
Days later, Elmore watched from the shadows as she picked up another boy outside a prep school, her left hand flashing a massive diamond engagement ring.
When his butler accidentally recognized her, Kendal shielded her new stepson with pure disgust in her eyes.
"Tell that psychopath to sign the divorce papers immediately. I have a new family now."
The words 'new family' echoed in Elmore's skull, tearing him apart. For eight years, he had lived in a hell of guilt and madness, raising their son in the shadow of her ghost. How could she just erase their past? How could she give her tender smiles to a stranger and look at him with absolute revulsion?
Standing in a luxury ballroom, Elmore squeezed his hand until his crystal champagne flute shattered, thick blood dripping onto the rug. The murderous obsession in his dark eyes returned as he called his lawyer.
"Freeze her divorce application. Use every dirty trick in the book. She isn't leaving."

8.2
My son Leo had just died, and the silence in our cramped apartment felt like a physical weight crushing my chest.
Before I could even process the grief, my husband, Preston, kicked the door open and threw divorce papers onto the table.
Behind him stood Gloria, wearing a pristine cashmere coat and the diamond pendant Preston swore he had pawned to pay for Leo's hospital bills.
"Sign it," Preston said coldly. "You get nothing."
Gloria smirked, mocking me for failing to keep my sick child alive. When I tore up the papers in a blinding rage, Preston slapped me to the floor.
Then, my biological mother, Jerilyn, walked in. Instead of helping me, she pulled a serrated kitchen knife from her bag and plunged it deep into my stomach.
As I lay dying in a pool of my own blood, Jerilyn leaned in and whispered the devastating truth.
"I swapped you in the nursery. Gloria is my blood, and you belong in a Manhattan mansion. I can't let you ruin her life."
Until my lungs stopped working, I was consumed by a roaring, violent hatred. My own mother had traded my life of privilege for poverty, let my son die, and then murdered me to protect the fake.
Opening my eyes again, the dingy ceiling and the agonizing pain were gone.
I was sitting at a wooden desk, surrounded by the chatter of teenagers.
I was back in high school. And this time, I was going to make them pay.