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The Billionaire Canceled His Baby Contract After Learning His Surrogate Was A Virgin — And What He Did In The Hospital Left Everyone Speechless / Chapter 4 / 10

Chapter 4 - The Storm BreaksRhett didn't hesitate. He didn't call a lawyer. He didn't call his PR team. He grabbed his car keys, bolted out of the glass tower, and drove toward Southampton like a man possessed.

A monstrous winter storm—unseasonably early and violently fierce—was blowing in from the north, turning the interstate into a blinding sheet of white ice. Snow hammered his windshield as his black SUV tore down the highway.

His mind raced through a horrifying realization.

Julian Vance wasn't the only one who knew. The clinic in Boston had flagged the file, and a leak was inevitable. By morning, the media would swarm the estate. They would corner Celeste. They would tear her apart with microphones and flashing cameras, twisting her innocence into a scandal.

Worse than that... Rhett realized why his chest felt like it was caving in.

It wasn't because of the stock prices. It wasn't because of the board.

It was because he loved her.

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The boss didn't blink. He reached out, his ink-stained fingers brushing the loose strands of hair away from my forehead, his touch terrifyingly gentle yet completely immovable. "A ghost doesn't know her own reflection, maybe," he murmured, his breath hot against my temple. "Look at the corner of your left eye. The faint crescent scar. My wife got it falling off a horse in Sicily when she was twelve. You have it, too. Down to the millimeter."

The boss didn't blink. He reached out, his ink-stained fingers brushing...

Viral Hook: Security locks the grand dining hall doors. Eleanor screams as her designer handbag is ripped open—and the hidden vial of rare, paralyzing poison rolls across the marble floor!

Viral Hook: Security locks the grand dining hall doors. Eleanor screams...

Katherine sat in her parked car outside their suburban home, the engine idling while the dashboard clock blinked red. The digital photo on her phone—captured with ruthless clarity at the wine bar—glowed in the dark cabin. Her husband, Reginald, laughing under warm pendant lights while a woman with striking red hair stroked his forearm.

Katherine sat in her parked car outside their suburban home, the engine...

He had fallen for her quiet strength, her sharp wit, the way she laughed when he tried to act like a cold machine, and the fierce, protective grace with which she carried his child. He didn't want an heir. He wanted them.

And when his phone buzzed violently with a call from Nurse Holiday at the estate—“Mr. Blackwood, you need to get here now. Her water just broke. It’s early, and there are complications. We’re rushing her to Manhattan Private Maternity”—Rhett slammed his foot down on the gas, his heart hammering against his ribs in absolute terror.

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