He had everything: money, power, fame. Yet on a cold winter night in New York, there was one thing he had never been able to buy: an heir.
Stopping his car by the sidewalk, his eyes met a thin girl crouched on the ground, drawing on a crumpled piece of paper. A sudden, reckless idea flashed through his mind.
“Carry my child,” he said, his voice cold. “Just a contract. No love, no complications.”
She laughed bitterly, but hunger and the harsh nights on the streets left her no choice. Quietly, she nodded.
Weeks later, during an ultrasound, the screen revealed something unexpected: two heartbeats. Twins. The sight shattered his careful calculations, and stirred something in her heart too — a warmth she hadn’t felt in years.
Life in the mansion began to change. He appeared at breakfast, left sketchbooks on her pillow, and began asking about her day, still stiff but undeniably more present.
Then came the decisive moment: the cries of a baby boy and a baby girl filled the delivery room. He gripped her hand tightly, eyes red, overwhelmed by a love no money could buy.
But the next morning, the suitcase was at the foot of the bed. She whispered,
“The agreement is done. I will go.”
He stood frozen in the hallway, pale, then reached into his jacket and pulled out the contract — the very papers that had bound them together. But instead of tearing it up or forcing her to stay, he did something no one expected…
He realized some things aren’t about contracts or control. Some things are about love, family, and unexpected miracles.
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