Bought By The Cold Billionaire Husband

The next evening, the sound of the lock turning made Davina's blood run cold. She was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a stir-fry. The knife paused mid-air as the front door swung open. Kash stepped inside. He wore a charcoal suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly, the fabric crisp and expensive. In the dim, cramped living room of her cheap apartment, he looked like a shark swimming in a puddle. His cold gaze swept over the mismatched furniture, the peeling wallpaper, before landing on her. His lip curled slightly when he saw the knife in her hand. "Planning to use that?" "I was making dinner," Davina said, setting the knife down on the cutting board. "You can't just walk in here." "I have a key." He pulled a silver key from his pocket and tossed it onto the entryway table. "I own the lease. And I own you." He reached inside his coat and pulled out a folded document. He walked over to the coffee table and threw it down. The paper slid across the surface, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Sign it." Davina walked over slowly, her legs stiff. She looked down at the document. It was a supplementary agreement to the prenup. She scanned the first few lines. Her stomach dropped. Clause 4: The Party of the First Part (Kash Daniel Montgomery) shall retain sole and exclusive custody of any child born of this union. "You want me to sign over my baby," she said, her voice trembling with rage. "Before I'm even pregnant." "It's standard procedure." Kash unbuttoned his suit jacket, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were hard. "It's a condition in my grandmother's will. She wants to see the next generation before she goes. The child must be a Montgomery. Fully and legally." "You're taking my rights as a mother!" Davina snapped, looking up at him. "You can't just buy a child and throw the mother away." Kash took a step closer, his large frame crowding her space. The scent of his cologne-sandalwood and something sharper-filled her nostrils. "That's exactly what you're here for, isn't it? A womb for hire. A warm body to carry a meal ticket." "I am not a surrogate!" Davina shouted, her chest heaving. "I'm your wife!" "On paper," Kash said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You saw an opportunity, and you took it. You got your fifty thousand dollar advance. You'll get the remaining four hundred and fifty thousand at the end. Don't pretend you have morals now." "I didn't marry you for the money," Davina said, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "I needed-" "Save it." Kash held up a hand, his face twisting in disgust. "I've heard every excuse in the book. The dying relative, the mounting bills, the sad story. I'm not interested." He turned away, running a hand through his dark hair. For a split second, the arrogant mask slipped. His shoulders tensed, and he stared out the window at the city lights. "My grandmother is dying," he said, his voice rough. "She wants to see the next generation before she goes. That's the only reason I'm doing this." Davina saw the pain in his profile, the tight line of his jaw. He was trapped, just like she was. But the moment of vulnerability vanished as quickly as it appeared. He turned back to her, his eyes freezing over again. "But don't think for a second that I trust you. I know exactly what you are." "I'm not what you think," Davina said, her voice barely above a whisper. She bit her lower lip, tasting copper as she bit down too hard. "You're a gold-digger," Kash said flatly. "And I'm the gold. Sign the paper." He picked up his coat from the chair, slipping it back on. "You have until Friday." He walked toward the door without looking back. Davina stared at the document on the table. Her hands shook as she picked it up. The paper was heavy, the legal jargon blurring before her eyes. The edge of the paper was sharp. It sliced into her index finger as she gripped it too tight. A drop of dark red blood welled up, falling onto the white page next to the signature line. Kash paused at the door, his hand on the knob. He didn't turn around. "Don't try the blood act," he said coldly. "It won't work on me." The door slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed through the apartment, rattling the thin walls. Davina sank down onto the couch, the agreement clutched in her hands. The cut on her finger stung, but the pain in her chest was worse. She felt hollowed out, scraped clean.