Chapter 2

The image of that blood burned into her retinas as the hotel staff eventually escorted her back to the Terrell estate. Now, hours later, the clock on her nightstand read 2:00 AM.

Blaire pushed herself off the mattress. She pulled a silk robe over her shoulders and tied the belt with trembling fingers. Her throat was parched. She needed a glass of water from the downstairs kitchen.

She pushed open the heavy carved wooden door of her bedroom. The dim wall sconces in the hallway stretched her shadow across the floor. The dead silence of the massive house made a shiver run down her spine.

She walked barefoot across the freezing marble floor. She tried to keep her steps completely silent, but her dry throat forced her to keep moving toward the grand staircase.

Just as she reached the landing of the first floor, a low murmur of voices drifted from the slightly ajar door of the study. The sound halted her steps.

Blaire wanted to turn around and go back upstairs, but she clearly heard her own name. A morbid curiosity seized her. She held her breath and crept closer to the crack in the door.

She pressed her back against the cold wall. Peeking through the narrow gap, she saw her adoptive mother, Clotilda, holding a glass of red wine. A smug, chilling smile twisted Clotilda's face.

Danita sat on the leather sofa, complaining about Kamryn's cold attitude. The anxiety in her voice was completely different from the fake outrage she had displayed at the hotel that morning.

Clotilda let out a dismissive snort. She patted her daughter's hand and told her that as long as Blaire got pregnant with the Lane family's seed, everything was going exactly according to plan.

The words struck Blaire like a physical blow to the chest. She slapped both hands over her mouth, desperately shoving the scream back down her throat.

Danita leaned forward and added a cruel detail. She said that once the baby was born, they would stage an accident, drain Blaire's blood, and transplant her healthy heart into Danita's chest.

The horrific truth hit her. A living organ bank. A surrogate tool. The realization shattered her entire reality. A violent wave of nausea hit her stomach, making her knees buckle.

She remembered the strange tasting champagne from the charity gala last night. All the recent warmth and smiles from her adoptive family had been a lethal trap to deliver her to Kamryn's bed.

Extreme terror caused her body to shake uncontrollably. She stumbled backward, her heel catching on the edge of a tall porcelain planter in the hallway.

The planter scraped against the marble with a dull, heavy grinding noise. The voices inside the study stopped instantly. Clotilda's sharp, suspicious voice pierced through the wooden door.

Blaire's heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She looked around wildly for a place to hide, but the long hallway was empty. There was nowhere to run.

The brass handle of the study door began to turn. In that split second of absolute panic, a strong arm shot out from the darkness and clamped a large hand over her mouth.

Blaire thrashed wildly, but the force yanked her backward into the unlit storage room next to the study. The door clicked shut silently behind them.

The study door opened. Clotilda poked her head out, scanning the empty hallway. She muttered something about the night wind and closed the door again.

Inside the pitch black storage room, Blaire's back was pressed flat against a rock hard chest. The overwhelming scent of cedarwood mixed with raw male pheromones invaded her senses. Her body went completely rigid.

Calhoun Terrell's deep, gravelly voice vibrated against her ear. He asked her what she was doing sneaking around in the dark.

Blaire shoved hard against his chest. The faint moonlight filtering through the high window illuminated her adoptive brother's face. His deep set eyes were fixed on her, full of dangerous calculation.

To hide the horrifying secret she had just learned, Blaire dug her fingernails into her palms. She used the sharp pain to ground herself. She forced her facial muscles to form a pale, weak smile.

She kept her voice shaking just enough to be believable. She lied, saying she had a nightmare, came down for water, and got turned around in the dark.

Calhoun took a step forward, trapping her against the shelves. Calhoun stared at her for a long time. Instead of a gentle touch, his hand shot out, his thumb and forefinger clamping around her jaw with a bruising, authoritative grip. He forced her head up, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her pale face like a strict warden inspecting a disobedient prisoner, trying to strip away her lies.

Blaire fought the urge to flinch away. She met his stare, forcing her eyes to look wide, innocent, and dependent on her older brother.

Finally, he released her chin with a sharp flick of his wrist, seemingly accepting her story.

He took off his cashmere coat and draped it over her thin robe. His tone returned to its usual strict coldness as he ordered her to go back to her room immediately.

Blaire felt a massive wave of relief. She pulled the coat tightly around herself, the fabric still holding his body heat. She kept her head down and hurried past him, escaping the storage room.

Once back inside her bedroom, Blaire locked the door and leaned against the wood. She slid down to the floor, gasping for air as if she had been drowning.

She bit down hard on the back of her hand to keep from sobbing out loud. The sheer terror in her eyes slowly hardened into a desperate, burning will to survive.

She could not just wait to be slaughtered. She needed to make money to run away, and she needed to buy a Plan B pill first thing in the morning to destroy their surrogate plan.