– Ace –
The city looked peaceful from up here. Clean lines, blinking lights, everything moving in perfect rhythm. But it was a lie. Manhattan was chaos disguised as a control—always hungry, always taking. A little like me, I guess.
I used to think this view would make me feel something—calm, maybe even pride. But standing here now, it just felt… hollow. Like I'd climbed to the top of the world and realized there's no air up here.
I'd built this empire to prove something. To get back at a man who once called me worthless, who said I'd never be more than a fraction of his fortune. But standing here now, with the city sprawled at my feet, I wasn't so sure
Maybe I wasn't chasing revenge anymore. I guess I'm just just… tired.
I hadn't even touched the drink in my hand. I dropped the tumbler by the side.
I didn't drink. Not really. I hated the idea of slipping, of letting go even for a second. But I liked the feel of the glass. The ritual of it. It gave my hands something whenever I had too much to think about.
I pressed the panel on the wall. The lights dimmed, washing the room in cool gray. My day was packed—calls, briefings, endless decisions waiting for me. But none of it mattered.
Because all I could think about was her.
Hazel.
Just a name on a contract. A stranger. The surrogate.
She would never be anything more than that. I don't care, I'd spent years creating distance—setting rules, drawing lines so thick not even I could cross them. This wasn't about emotion. It was about legacy. Control.
And yet…
When my team sent over her file, I should've handed it off to my assistant like I always did. I should've looked away.
But I didn't.
I told myself I was just doing due diligence. Verifying protocol. But that was a lie.
I'd asked for no photos. No personal details. And still, I read every word of her file. I memorized the way her name looked on paper. I couldn't help it.
Worse, I went to the clinic. In person.
I told myself it was to assess the facility. But the moment I saw her, lying there under that soft hospital light, calm and steady while the procedure began—I knew why I'd come.
She wasn't flashy. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. She was just… real. And it wrecked me more than I'd like to admit.
She's not yours, I reminded myself.
This wasn't some romantic fantasy. It was logistics. Biology. I needed an heir. Not because I wanted to be a father, not in the way the world talks about it. But because power needs a bloodline. And no matter how hard I've worked, blood still matters.
The Milan name wouldn't end with me. I wouldn't let it.
A knock on the glass broke the spiral.
Kai, my head of security, stepped in without waiting. He knew better than to stand on ceremony.
"The procedure's done," he said simply.
I didn't turn around. "How did she handle it?"
"She was surprised at first. But calm. Strong. The medical team said there were no complications. She's being transferred to the northern estate later today."
I gave a nod. "Good."
He hesitated. "Do you want to see her before she goes?"
My answer came too fast.
"No."
"Understood."
But it wasn't understood. Not really.
Because even as the word left my mouth, it felt like something in me recoiled from it.
I didn't want to admit it—but I wanted to see her again. Just for a second. Just to figure out why she unsettled me so much.
"She still lives with her mother?" I asked.
"Yes. The mother's condition is worsening."
That hit harder than it should have.
"Does she understand the full terms of the contract?" I asked.
Kai nodded. "Yes. She signed without hesitation. No contact after birth. Complete confidentiality."
"She'll break it," I said quietly.
Jasper blinked. "Sir?"
"They always do."
He studied me, then added, "But… do you think she's different?"
"No."
But even I didn't believe that.
Later that night, I found myself standing in a room I hadn't entered in over two years.
Clara's room.
Everything was still exactly how she left it—soft furniture, sunlit curtains, a book half-open on the nightstand like she might return to finish it.
She was supposed to be the one.
If she hadn't lied, if she hadn't betrayed everything we built—maybe we would've had a child by now. Maybe none of this would be necessary. But Clara taught me something important: love can rot the strongest foundation.
So now? Now I played by different rules.
I didn't get close. I didn't feel. I didn't trust.
And Hazel? She was part of the plan. Nothing more.
But even as I stood in that quiet room, trying to bury the past, I couldn't shake her from my mind. The way she moved evn though she was sedated. She displayed strength. The strength it must have taken to do this alone.
She didn't cry. She didn't flinch. She just breathed. Steady. Brave.
I hated how much I admired that.
The morning came sooner than I wanted.
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my cufflinks. Silver. Engraved with the Milan crest—a lion coiled around a crown.
Symbols of power. Of ruthlessness. Of everything I'd forced myself to become.
I couldn't afford to want anything else. Not softness. Not vulnerability. Not even a name like hers echoing through my chest when I tried to sleep.
This was my world. And I had no room left for mistakes.