Just A Vessel: The Surrogate's Escape

Just A Vessel: The Surrogate's Escape

Alma

5.0
Comment(s)
View
20
Chapters

I went to the bank to set up a trust fund for my twins, only to have the manager look at me with pity. "Mrs. Dunlap, the trust requires the *biological* mother's signature." I froze. I *was* their mother. Or so I thought. That day, I learned my husband, the most powerful Mafia Don on the coast, had used his ex-lover's frozen eggs. For six years, I wasn't his wife. I was just the incubator. When his "true love," Iliana, returned from exile, my life disintegrated. My children, poisoned by her lies, pushed me down the stairs and called me "just the nanny." Gavyn didn't help me up. He stepped over my bleeding body to take his "real family" out for ice cream. But the ultimate betrayal happened on a windswept cliff. Staged by Iliana, we were both tied up, allegedly rigged to explode. Forced to choose who to save, Gavyn didn't hesitate. He cut Iliana loose. "You did this to yourself, Alex," he said, driving away with the children, leaving me to die. He thought he was leaving behind a corpse. He didn't know I had skimmed ten million dollars from the household accounts. "Cut me loose," I told the hitman, transferring the money. "And tell him the ocean took me." Two years later, the Don is on his knees in my garden, begging for a second chance. Too bad he has to get through my new fiancé first-the head of the rival cartel.

Chapter 1

I went to the bank to set up a trust fund for my twins, only to have the manager look at me with pity.

"Mrs. Dunlap, the trust requires the *biological* mother's signature."

I froze. I *was* their mother. Or so I thought.

That day, I learned my husband, the most powerful Mafia Don on the coast, had used his ex-lover's frozen eggs.

For six years, I wasn't his wife. I was just the incubator.

When his "true love," Iliana, returned from exile, my life disintegrated.

My children, poisoned by her lies, pushed me down the stairs and called me "just the nanny."

Gavyn didn't help me up. He stepped over my bleeding body to take his "real family" out for ice cream.

But the ultimate betrayal happened on a windswept cliff.

Staged by Iliana, we were both tied up, allegedly rigged to explode.

Forced to choose who to save, Gavyn didn't hesitate.

He cut Iliana loose.

"You did this to yourself, Alex," he said, driving away with the children, leaving me to die.

He thought he was leaving behind a corpse.

He didn't know I had skimmed ten million dollars from the household accounts.

"Cut me loose," I told the hitman, transferring the money. "And tell him the ocean took me."

Two years later, the Don is on his knees in my garden, begging for a second chance.

Too bad he has to get through my new fiancé first-the head of the rival cartel.

Chapter 1

Alex POV

The bank manager slid the rejection letter across the mahogany desk, and in that single, fluid motion, the foundation of my six-year marriage didn't just crack; it disintegrated.

I sat frozen in the plush leather chair of the First National Bank, the aggressive air conditioning suddenly biting into my skin like the chill of a morgue.

I had come here to secure trust funds for my twins, Kennith and Kaelynn-a surprise for their sixth birthday.

It was supposed to be a formality.

I was Alexandra Dunlap. Wife of Gavyn Dunlap, the *Capo dei Capi* of the entire eastern seaboard.

My signature usually moved mountains. Or, at the very least, it moved millions without a blink of an eye.

"I don't understand," I said, my voice steady despite the tremors radiating through my hands.

Mr. Henderson adjusted his glasses, studiously refusing to meet my gaze.

"Mrs. Dunlap, the trust requires the biological mother's signature for the initial setup, per the Family's internal protocols regarding lineage verification."

"I *am* their mother," I stated, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.

He hesitated, then reluctantly turned his computer screen toward me.

"According to the birth certificates on file with the State and the Syndicate registry... you are the legal guardian via marriage."

My eyes scanned the document on the screen.

Biological Father: Gavyn Dunlap.

Biological Mother: Iliana Dudley.

The room lurched.

Iliana Dudley.

The ghost.

The woman whose name was never spoken within our estate, yet whose presence lingered like the cloying scent of stale perfume on a vintage coat.

She was Gavyn's first love, the daughter of a rival associate who had supposedly betrayed the code and vanished years ago.

I was the replacement.

I was the twenty-two-year-old virgin chosen from a loyal family to settle my father's gambling debts.

The memories of the IVF clinics flooded back.

The daily injections. The hormones. The invasive procedures Gavyn had insisted upon, claiming he wanted to ensure "genetic perfection" and minimize risks.

He had lied.

I wasn't the mother.

I was the vessel.

I was the incubator.

I stood up, my legs feeling numb, as if they belonged to a stranger.

"Thank you, Mr. Henderson," I whispered.

I walked out of the bank and into the gray drizzle of the city, ignoring my security detail's frantic attempts to open the car door for me.

I needed to see him.

I needed to see the man who had shared my bed for six years, the man I had learned to love despite his coldness, despite the blood that permanently stained his hands.

I hailed a taxi, giving the address to the Dunlap Tower.

It was a fortress of glass and steel that pierced the skyline, a monument to Gavyn's untouchable power.

He ran the city's unions, the ports, and the shadows between the streetlights.

I breezed past the armed guards in the lobby; they knew better than to stop the Don's wife.

The elevator ride to the penthouse office felt like an eternity spent inside a coffin.

When the doors slid open, the floor was empty, save for the low murmur of voices drifting from his office.

The door was ajar.

I stepped closer, my heels sinking into the thick carpet, silencing my approach like a predator-or a ghost.

"She tried to open a trust today." Gavyn's voice was a low baritone rumble, a sound that usually made my stomach flutter. Now, it churned the bile in my throat.

"Did she see the registry?" A woman's voice.

Smooth. A French accent.

Iliana.

"It doesn't matter," Gavyn replied, followed by the sharp clink of ice against glass. "Alex is docile. She does what she is told. She raised them well, Iliana. They are ready for you now."

I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob.

"I don't want them calling her 'Mom' anymore, Gavyn," Iliana purred. "It's confusing for them. Now that I'm back... now that my 'exile' is officially over..."

"Patience," Gavyn said. "Alex served her purpose. She gave me heirs when you couldn't be here. She kept the seat warm. We will transition her out quietly. A payoff. A property in the Hamptons. She'll take it."

*Served her purpose.*

*Kept the seat warm.*

I wasn't his wife.

I was a long-term employee.

I turned around and walked back to the elevator.

I didn't scream. I didn't burst into the room.

In Gavyn's world, outbursts got you killed. Silence bought you time.

I went home to the estate, a sprawling mansion that felt more like a mausoleum than a home.

I walked through the heavy front doors, water dripping from my hair onto the pristine marble foyer.

"Mommy!"

Kaelynn and Kennith were at the top of the grand staircase.

They were beautiful children, possessing Gavyn's dark eyes and sharp jawlines.

My heart ached just looking at them. I had wiped their tears, kissed their scraped knees, sat awake for nights when fevers burned their skin.

"Hi, babies," I said, my voice cracking.

They didn't smile.

Their expressions shifted instantly. They looked at each other, a silent, dark communication passing between them that I wasn't privy to.

"You look like a wet rat," Kennith said.

He was six years old.

"Kennith," I scolded gently, stepping onto the first stair. "That is not how we speak."

"Miss Iliana says you look plain," Kaelynn added, crossing her arms with an attitude far too old for her small frame. "She says you're just the nanny who stayed too long."

The air left my lungs as if I'd been punched.

"Kaelynn, come here," I said, reaching out a trembling hand.

She recoiled.

"No! We don't want you!" she screamed.

She lunged forward.

It wasn't a playful shove.

It was a push fueled by a malice a child shouldn't possess.

I lost my footing on the slick marble stairs.

The world tilted violently.

My shoulder slammed into the banister, and my head cracked against the stone pillar at the bottom with a sickening thud.

Pain exploded behind my eyes.

I lay on the floor, gasping, warm blood trickling down my temple.

Laughter.

I heard laughter.

I looked up through hazy vision to see my children-the children I had birthed, or so I thought-giggling at the top of the stairs.

The front door opened behind me.

Gavyn walked in.

He was followed by a woman. Tall, blonde, striking.

Iliana.

Gavyn stopped. He looked down at me, sprawled on the floor, bleeding.

There was no panic in his eyes. No worry.

Just a flicker of annoyance, as if I were a piece of furniture that had been knocked over.

"Get up, Alex," he said coldly. "Stop making a scene."

"Daddy!" Kaelynn squealed, running down the stairs, stepping over my legs to get to him. "She fell! She's so clumsy!"

Gavyn scooped her up.

Iliana stepped forward, her heels clicking ominously on the floor near my head.

She looked down at me with a smirk that chilled my blood.

"Poor thing," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Maybe she needs a rest. A permanent one."

"Can we go for ice cream with Real Mom now?" Kennith asked, tugging on Iliana's hand.

*Real Mom.*

The words were a dagger in my heart, twisting, severing the last thread of hope I had held onto.

Gavyn looked at me one last time.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered. "We are going out."

He turned his back on me.

He walked out the door with Iliana and the children, a perfect family portrait that had no space for me.

I lay on the cold marble, the blood pooling beneath my cheek.

"Okay," I whispered to the empty room, surrendering to the darkness.

"I grant your wish."

Continue Reading

Other books by Alma

More
The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact

The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact

Modern

5.0

I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.

Too Late Mr. Sterling: You Lost Me

Too Late Mr. Sterling: You Lost Me

Modern

5.0

I was the perfect fiancée to Archer Sterling, a tech mogul who demanded I be as polished as his marble countertops. I gave up my art and my identity to fit his world, believing our upcoming wedding was the start of our forever. A mysterious text led me to a hidden folder in a calculator app on Archer’s phone. Inside were photos of him with his assistant, Mia, and texts calling me a "dead fish" and "manageable" collateral for his upcoming IPO. The humiliation peaked at my final bridal fitting. Archer ditched me for a hotel tryst with Mia, leaving me to overhear the salon staff mocking me as a "clueless gold digger." When I collapsed in the hallway, barefoot and broken, Archer didn't offer a hand. He only scolded me for "making a scene" and ordered me to be "supportive" of his busy schedule. The seven years I spent molding myself into his ideal woman were a lie. I wasn't his partner; I was a character in a play he wrote for his investors. My love had been met with calculated contempt, and my sacrifices were treated as his due. That night, I found Mia’s silk stockings shoved in my guest bathroom. The scent of her perfume in my home was the final breaking point. When Archer tried to touch me, my skin crawled with a physical rejection I couldn't mask. I locked the door, shredded the stockings, and called the one man Archer feared: Julian Van Der Bilt. "Does your offer for help include getting me out of here?" I asked. "Pack a bag," Julian’s voice rumbled through the dark. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Don't let him see you leave."

Betrayal In White Roses

Betrayal In White Roses

Romance

5.0

My engagement party was supposed to be the culmination of seven years of love with Liam Miller, a public declaration before we started our lives as husband and wife. The room was filled with our closest friends and family, everything perfect, down to the white roses and the soft string quartet. But then, the video montage Liam prepared – a journey through our relationship – flickered. It cut to a sterile hospital room where Liam cradled a newborn baby with a tender joy I hadn't seen in years. Then the camera panned, revealing his assistant, Sarah Jenkins, in the hospital bed, wearing an engagement ring identical to mine. A collective gasp swept through the room as the music died, leaving deafening silence. Liam rushed to my side, whispering, "Chloe, calm down. Don't make a scene," before gaslighting everyone, calling it a "technical glitch" and dismissing my shock as "emotional." My world imploded. I stood there, humiliated, watching him protect her at my expense. The anger was cold and sharp as I walked to the stage, announcing, "It seems there's been a happy surprise. I wasn't aware we were celebrating two families tonight." I held up my hand, then pointed to Sarah, saying, "It seems Liam is a man of great generosity. So generous, in fact, that he's given out two of the same ring." I slid my diamond ring off and placed it on the tablecloth, telling him, "I wish you and Sarah double happiness. You clearly deserve each other." As I turned to leave, Liam grabbed my arm in the hallway, raging, "What the hell was that, Chloe? You humiliated me!" "You humiliated yourself, Liam," I retorted, realizing this wasn't just a betrayal; it was years of hidden lies. Back at our penthouse, a text from Sarah arrived with a photo of her wearing my custom-designed star-map bracelet-the one Liam was supposed to give me for my birthday next month. Her text read: "He says some things are just meant for the right person. Thanks for the design, Chloe. It's beautiful." The calculated cruelty of it stole the air from my lungs. Then Liam returned, offering a diamond necklace I' d seen on Sarah, trying to dismiss everything as "one mistake." He still didn't see it. He still chose her. After he left to care for their sick baby, my phone buzzed again with more texts from Sarah: screenshots revealing years of his lies-missed birthdays, fake business trips-all spent building a family with her. And then, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I was pregnant. Two months along. Our own happy surprise. The baby. Our baby felt like a part of his deception. I couldn' t tie myself to him, to this pain. The decision made itself: I would cut him out of my life completely.

From Victim To Victor

From Victim To Victor

Modern

5.0

The stifling heat of my dorm room was the first sign. It clung to me like a wet blanket, a stark contrast to the cool relief of the hallway. Then came the sharp voice, Olivia' s, followed by the others, demanding I turn off the AC I' d just turned on. "Turn that off." "Yeah, turn it off. It' s freezing." They seemed unaffected, even as I sweltered. Then came the electricity bill: an exorbitant $485.62, more than double last month, which they insisted I pay, all of it. "What' s the matter, Chloe? Can' t afford it? I thought your family was rich." It was a blatant lie, a twisted mockery of my efforts to be fair, to be liked. The feeling of pure injustice burned within me. What had I done to deserve this escalating torment? "You're our personal ATM, Chloe. And we're not done making withdrawals." They weren't just taking my money; they were stripping away my dignity, piece by piece. My phone-my only lifeline-was next, then a brutal beating, culminating in my terrifying imprisonment in a dark, foul-smelling closet. My own father, Mr. Thompson, the university trustee, was just outside. He heard the fabricated lies, the slander about my character, and believed them, leaving me in that dark place, thinking he' d abandoned me. His quiet departure, the click of the door, felt like the end. But a final, desperate sound, a frantic phone call from my best friend Jessica, pierced through the despair, and then the thundering demand of my father' s voice, now raw with panic: "Open this door!" My fight for survival was just beginning.

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book