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Celestia woke up heavily sedated, her wrists bound tightly to the legs of a grand piano in a cold, opulent room. Before she could even process the panic, a towering billionaire named Sterling Sinclair IV stepped in, looking at her like a possessed piece of art. The head maid then handed Celestia a thick surrogacy contract with her perfectly forged signature. "You are here to bear an heir for Mr. Sinclair," the maid stated flatly. Celestia screamed that they had the wrong person, but her desperate cries bounced uselessly off the soundproof walls. Stripped of her clothes, phone, and identity, she was trapped on an isolated island surrounded by high-voltage electric fences and armed guards. When she furiously fought back, Sterling physically overpowered her, punishing her resistance with brutal, terrifying dominance until she lost consciousness on the marble floor. She didn't understand who had kidnapped her from her normal life. Why was her biometric data perfectly faked in a classified dossier? Who had framed her as a willing, ten-million-dollar premium product for a ruthless billionaire? Driven by pure survival, Celestia began aggressively consuming raw garlic and bathing in harsh white vinegar to destroy her fertility and repel his touch. And when Sterling finally reviewed her bizarre, self-sabotaging dietary logs, the terrifying truth hit his calculating mind like a physical blow. The broken, innocent woman he had been brutally tormenting all week was never his hired surrogate.
Contents
The Billionaire's Mistaken And Defiant Surrogate Chapter 1
The thick, chemical fog in Celestia's brain refused to clear. Her head throbbed with a dull, relentless rhythm.
She tried to swallow, but her throat felt like it was coated in dry sand. A heavy weight pressed down on her chest, making every breath a shallow, painful gasp.
The darkness behind her eyelids spun in sickening circles. She attempted to shift her weight. Her limbs felt like lead.
Slowly, agonizingly, she forced her heavy eyelids open.
A blinding, piercing light instantly stabbed at her retinas. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. Above her, a massive crystal chandelier hung from a vaulted ceiling, its hundreds of bulbs burning with a harsh, clinical glare.
She tried to lift her hands to rub the stinging tears away. She couldn't.
A cold, unforgiving bite of thick silk rope cut into the delicate skin of her wrists.
Pure, unfiltered panic surged through her chest. Her heart slammed against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She pulled harder. Her arms were stretched wide apart, completely immobilized.
She turned her head frantically to the left. Her wrist was bound tightly to the polished, thick wooden leg of a grand piano. She snapped her head to the right. The other wrist was secured to the opposite leg.
She jerked her legs upward instinctively. The heavy wooden piano bench rattled, but her ankles remained firmly tied to its base.
The cold, smooth marble floor sent a violent shiver up her spine. The chill seeped into her bare skin, making her acutely aware of her exposure. She looked down. She was wearing nothing but a thin, white silk slip.
She gasped for air. Her lungs burned. The lingering effects of the powerful sedative made her throat feel like it was lined with broken glass.
Then, she heard it.
Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the marble hallway outside the room's double doors. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
A spike of pure terror hit her stomach. Bile rose in the back of her throat.
The heavy brass door handle slowly began to turn. The metallic squeak sounded like a death knell.
The massive oak doors creaked open. A towering, broad-shouldered silhouette stood in the doorway, backlit by the bright hallway lights.
Sterling Sinclair IV stepped into the room. His expensive leather shoes clicked methodically on the marble floor with every deliberate step.
Celestia squinted against the glare. As he moved closer, she made out his sharp, angular jawline. His eyes caught the chandelier's light, flashing with a terrifying, red-tinted hue.
Sterling approached the piano. His gaze swept over her stretched, shivering body. It was the look of a collector appreciating a flawless piece of art that was about to be his, full of scrutiny and absolute possession.
"Who are you?" Celestia demanded. Her voice trembled violently, but she forced the words out. "Where am I?"
Sterling ignored her question completely. His face remained a mask of chilling calmness.
He reached up with slow, precise movements. He unbuttoned his tailored suit jacket.
He tossed the dark jacket onto a nearby velvet chair. He stepped deliberately closer to her bound form.
Celestia pulled furiously against the ropes. The friction burned the skin of her wrists, leaving angry red welts.
Sterling reached out. His large, calloused hand gripped her chin. His fingers dug into her jaw, forcing her to look directly up at him.
She lunged forward, snapping her teeth, trying to bite his hand.
He swiftly shifted his grip. His thumb and fingers pinched the hinges of her jaw, pinning her mouth open.
He leaned in. The rich, intoxicating scent of cedar and expensive scotch invaded her heightened senses. It made her stomach churn.
"You are exactly the premium product I paid for," Sterling whispered. His breath brushed her cheek.
The words confused and terrified her.
"Help!" Celestia screamed. "Somebody help me!"
The sound bounced uselessly against the thick, soundproofed walls of the villa.
Sterling clamped his large hand over her mouth. He easily silenced her desperate, high-pitched cries.
He used his free hand to trace the line of her exposed neck. He completely ignored her violent, involuntary shivering.
Celestia kicked her bound legs upward with all her remaining strength. Her bare foot struck his shin hard.
Sterling's red-tinted eyes darkened with immediate, dangerous anger.
He shifted his stance. He used his heavy body weight to pin her thrashing legs down against the cold marble.
He leaned down. He captured her lips in a bruising, punishing kiss. It was an act designed to establish absolute dominance.
Celestia bit down hard on his lower lip. Her teeth broke the skin.
She tasted the sharp, metallic tang of his blood in her mouth.
Sterling pulled back slowly. He raised his thumb and wiped the drop of blood from his lip.
A dangerous, dark smirk formed on his face. He leaned back down, completely overpowering her remaining resistance.
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