The Surrogate Contract With The Ruthless Billionaire

I didn't close my eyes all night. I couldn't.

My body was drained, but my mind refused to stop. It kept replaying everything over and over, like a broken record.

The nanny's call, Nicholas's rage, the man who looked like a delivery person, the quietness in the house was suffocating; their room, desolate and cold. 

The triplets were still missing.

And Nicholas still hadn't looked me in the eyes.

He circled the living room like a lion waiting to strike, barking orders into his phone, yelling at every security agent, nanny, and household worker. 

I stood in a corner, trembling with exhaustion, my body refusing to move, yet too restless to sit.

Everything hurt-my head, my heart, my body.

Yet above all, it was the guilt that consumed me.

I knew it wasn't entirely my fault because I didn't harm the children. 

I didn't hand them to anyone, my only mistake was leaving them behind to see my Mother. 

I wasn't there when I should've been. 

And Nicholas... 

Nicholas had found the perfect reason to unleash everything he had bottled against me.

"Still standing there like a lost puppy?" His voice was sharp and cruel. 

"Or are you finally ready to confess how much you enjoy ruining my life?"

My body jerked.

"I've already said I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

He chuckled coldly, walking closer. 

"Sorry?" he repeated. 

"You were 'sorry' the day Vivian died, too. Funny how every problem seems to lead back to you, and your only response is sorry."

My eyes burned unbearably. "Stop it."

"No," he let out a loud yell. 

"I won't stop, not until you take responsibility. You were entrusted with their care, yet you stepped out, and now three innocent children, my children, are missing". 

"Do you have any idea what that means?"

"I didn't abandon them!" I shouted back, unable to hold it in anymore. 

"I needed air...I needed to breathe for just a moment"

"You don't get that privilege anymore," he interrupted, his voice lowering, harsher now. 

"The moment you signed that surrogacy contract, you became connected to them, whether you like it or not. You think you could birth them and walk away? That I'd let someone like you, careless and manipulative, be free?"

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the breath out of me.

"Why are you doing this?" My voice shook, low and trembling. 

"Is it because you want to hate me so badly that you've forgotten what grief feels like?"

He leaned closer, his face inches from mine. 

"Don't talk to me about grief, Ava. I buried my wife. Now my kids are gone. If there's a curse following me around, it wears your face."

I gasped, like I'd been slapped. 

I wanted to scream, to cry, to hit him, but I did none of it. 

I just stood there, frozen, as he walked away and slammed the door to his study.

Everything went silent once more. Only now, it was heavier and dragged me down.

Almost deadly, nearly taking my life.

***

I went into the triplets' room again, searching through drawers, looking for anything, any clue, any hint, or anything they could've taken with them or something someone could've left behind.

Nothing.

I found their little pyjamas still on the bed. 

A stuffed giraffe was laying on the floor. I hugged it to my chest and fell to my knees.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. 

"I'm so, so sorry."

I didn't know how long I stayed like that, but my phone vibrated again.

It was a message from a private number.

"You shouldn't have left them alone. You'll regret it."

My heart nearly stopped.

I screamed and rushed to Nicholas's study, shoving the phone into his face. 

"Look! Someone just sent this. 

They know!"

He grabbed the phone and read the message. 

His face hardened.

"Trace it," he told someone on the line. 

"Find whoever sent this, now!"

Then he turned to me, and for a second, just one second, something shifted in his eyes.

Was it a worry? Panic? Regret?

It disappeared too quickly for me to tell.

An hour passed, then two.

Every corner of the house buzzed with tension.

They went over the security footage once more. 

Nicholas had people calling every hospital, checkpoint, orphanage, and police station. 

His lawyer showed up. 

Then his P.A (Anna).

Yet no one said a word to me.

I was invisible.

Or maybe just not important enough to be involved.

When I walked downstairs to check in, Nicholas glared at me like I had no right to breathe the same air. 

"Go upstairs," he ordered. "I don't want you here."

"But I can help"

"You've helped enough."

His voice was sharp and dangerous.

But in his bold blue eyes, hid something new I hadn't seen before.

Fear.

***

That night, I stayed in the triplets' room again, crouched low on the ground beside their beds. 

Every noise made me sit up. 

I saw hope in every shadow, it felt like it could carry my babies back to me.

At 2:36 a.m., I heard someone open the door. 

I stayed still, barely breathing.

Nicholas stepped in.

He didn't say a word. 

He just walked to the middle of the room and stared around like a restless spirit.

After a long silence, he muttered, "Vivian loved the kids even before they were born."

"She sang a lullaby to them, saying lullabies helped them sleep better."

I sat up slowly. 

"I remember. I tried doing the same sometimes."

He looked at me for the first time. 

"You think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to blame you?" His voice broke soft and slowly. 

"But I'm scared out of my mind. I don't know where to look anymore. And you're the only one left to blame."

I swallowed hard. 

"Then hate me if you must, but don't shut me out."

His stare remained fixed on me for a long moment.

Then he turned and walked out, shutting the door softly behind him.

***

Morning came.

Still no news.

The police began questioning everyone again-especially me.

Nicholas didn't defend me. 

He didn't interrupt when they suggested negligence.

But when I walked into the living room, I overheard him yelling into his phone: 

"If anything happens to my kids, I swear I'll burn this damn city down!"

His voice shook, not from anger but from fear.

At 11:23 a.m., another text came through. 

This time on Nicholas's phone.

He read it in front of me.

"If you want them back, stop playing hero. We're watching."

He looked at the message for several seconds before slowly lifting his head to meet my eyes.

For the first time since this all began

Nicholas froze, fear rooting him in place.

And then he whispered, raw and low.

"They're not after the kids, Ava. 

They're after us."