The Billionaire's Asset: Carrying His Heir

Corbin sat behind the massive mahogany desk in his office at Heath Tower. The city was a sprawling grid of lights below him, but his focus was entirely on the manila folder in front of him.

The Private Investigator stood nervously on the other side of the desk.

"The timeline is solid, Mr. Heath," the PI said. "She was at the Steigenberger Grandhotel in Davos from January 15th to the 20th. You were there the same dates. The blizzard closed the roads on the 18th."

Corbin flipped the page. A crystal-clear image of the ultrasound from her medical file. The date of conception estimation lined up perfectly with the 18th.

He looked at the background check on Preston Sterling. "Sterling was in London that week," Corbin muttered.

He closed the file. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

"Get the car," Corbin said into the intercom. "We're going home."

Aurora was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows when he arrived, the unsigned contract on the coffee table. She hadn't packed. She knew there was nowhere to run.

Corbin walked in. He looked at the contract, then at her. A cold smile touched his lips.

"Have you reviewed the terms?"

"I won't sign this," Aurora said, her voice shaking with rage. "I am not your broodmare."

Corbin walked past her and poured himself a scotch. "It is a generous offer. It provides for you completely. It guarantees your father's legal defense."

"It strips me of everything," she countered, turning to face him. "It gives you sole custody."

"Sit down, Aurora."

"No."

"Sit. Down." His voice didn't rise, but the command was absolute.

Aurora remained standing, gripping the back of a chair.

Corbin took a sip of his drink. "Let's be clear. You have two options. You sign that contract, we get married, and you provide me with an heir. In return, you live a life of unimaginable luxury, and your father gets the best defense money can buy."

"And option two?" she whispered.

"Option two," he said, setting the glass down, "is you refuse. I leak the information on this flash drive myself, but I frame your father as the sole architect. I have a dozen employees who will testify to it. He will die in prison. Your assets will remain frozen. You will be homeless. And when that baby is born, I will sue you for custody. With your record of 'mental instability,' as your dear friend Kendall is so happy to provide, and your lack of any financial means, which court in this country do you think will side with you?"

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. This was a war, and she couldn't afford to show weakness.

She took a deep breath, her fear solidifying into a cold, hard resolve. She had to change the terms of engagement.

"You're assuming you'll get a healthy heir," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. Corbin paused, his hand halfway to his glass. She had his attention.

"What does that mean?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It means that a pregnancy is a delicate thing," Aurora said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Stress is very bad for a developing fetus. And I am under an incredible amount of stress. If you want this 'asset' to make it to term, healthy and whole, then we are going to renegotiate that contract."

Corbin studied her face, looking for the bluff, the tell. He found none. He saw only the icy resolve of a cornered animal willing to chew off its own leg to escape a trap.

"If you think for one second I will let you harm that child-"

"I would never harm it," Aurora interrupted smoothly. "But my body might. A miscarriage is a tragic, unforeseen event. It happens all the time. Unless, of course, the mother is happy. Secure. Respected." She picked up the contract and a pen. "I want joint custody. And I want a seat on the board of the Heath Family Trust. Not as your wife. As the mother of your heir."

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

Corbin's face went blank. A terrifying, empty mask. He was calculating, assessing the new risk. She wasn't threatening the baby. She was threatening his legacy with a loophole he couldn't legally close.

He walked toward her, stopping inches away. He was furious, but his voice was dangerously calm.

"You are playing a very dangerous game."

"I learned from the best," Aurora said, holding his gaze. "You have until tomorrow morning to send over a revised contract. Otherwise, I might just take a long, stressful walk to a hostel in Queens."

She held his gaze for a long moment, then turned and walked to her room, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving him alone in the silent, cavernous room. She didn't know if she had won, but she had changed the battlefield.