Unroyally Yours

"Emma... relax a bit, you're too tight," He murmured softly, his voice strained but filled with a surprising tenderness.

His hand moved to brush her hair back, his fingers gentle as they grazed her skin, a stark contrast to the intensity that pulsed between them.

Emma's breath came in shallow gasps as she lay beneath him her body tense, her mind racing with the whirlwind of emotions flooding through her. She could hardly process the intensity of the moment, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensations.

"Are you a virgin?," He whispered near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. His tone wasn't mocking, just...surprised. He paused for a moment, his hand caressing her cheek, as though giving her time to process.

Emma's eyes fluttered, locking onto the reflection above them. In the dim light, the mirror on the ceiling revealed their entwined bodies, and she watched the scene unfold like it was happening to someone else.

Her heart raced, but beneath the uncertainty, there was a sense of surrender-something she hadn't expected.

How did it come this? Oh yeah Emma remembered, this was all part of her plan, her grand scheme of having a child for herself...

---------------------------------------------------

Emma Dee has it all figured it out.

She is young, Stunningly Beautiful, Brainy, and Single Since Birth.

She was killing it a work, she social media is updated on the latest trends. She had enough stamps on her passport to make a flight attendant jealous, and her social calendar was so packed she practically needed a personal assistant to keep up.

Yet, every family gathering was the same: A relentless matchmaking attempts disguised as innocent conversation. A long list of questions here and there;

"When will you get a boyfriend?"

"When will you have someone? It would be too risky to have a child so late in the game."

"When do you plan on settling down?"

"Your time is tickling down..."

Even her grandmother will begin with a look that was half-hope-half-scheming.

"Emma, darling, You're not getting any younger. When are you going to bring a nice man in our family gathering, the man who would take care of you?"

Emma would chuckle, throw in a charming deflection like, "Oh Grandma, Nowadays no want's to be a Disney Princess anymore. I am One independent woman..." and skillfully redirect the conversation to safer topics-like Aunt Susan's questionable casserole choices. But there was no denying it: the pressure was starting to build.

It wasn't that Emma hadn't dated before. Actually she had-plenty of times. But her love life? Let's just say it was less than a "rom-com" but rather a sci-fi theme.

None of the men she dated ever gave her that

"this-is-my-soulmate" spark her friends kept gushing about. While they shared stories about heart-fluttering chemistry and fireworks and butterflies, Emma was just grateful if her date didn't ramble on about Cryptocurrency and about their toy collection for an hour. Dating for her, felt more like sipping on a lukewarm cup of tea when she'd been hoping for a doubleshot of espresso of Starbucks.

And no...., it wasn't because she lacked in the looks department. Emma was gorgeous, with a bit of a don't-mess-with-me vibe that made some guys a little nervous. She was smart, outgoing, and had her fair share of admirers. But love? Nah. Emma was not a girl wandering around looking for her prince. If anything, she was more likely to just skip the fairy tale altogether. Love is like a cliche.

Emma had always viewed love as an optional accessory, like a fancy handbag-nice to have, but not strictly necessary for a well-rounded life.

Why bother swiping through dating apps, sitting through cringe-worthy blind dates, and pretending to be fascinated by someone else's 'life-story' , When she could just download a Baby instead? Cut out the middleman and go straight of having a baby who will take care of her and whom will love her unconditionally. It's like skipping pain of dating, getting to know each other and impressing the other party and going straight to the boss level!

No messy relationship, no awkward breakups, and certainly no need for someone hogging the remote during Netflix binges. She was an independent woman with a capital "I" (She probably owned an "Independent Woman" tote bag to prove it).

Emma's views on relationships or love were probably shaped by her rather... colorful family history. Her mother had raised them solo after her dad tragically-and let's be honest, embarrassingly-passed away in the arms of his mistress when Emma was just two years old, a tale her mom used to tell her as she grows up. Her mom never remarried and still did a stellar job raising them, until she passed when Emma was 13.

From then on, her sister took over and became a Hokage of romance, with men practically lining up to woo her like love was some kind of sport. Meanwhile, her brother-bless his heart-got married and promptly

surrendered all personal agency, living life firmly under his wife's thumb.

So it was always a bit of a mystery to Emma why her relatives treated "finding a life partner" as the ultimate LIFE achievement.

Emma adored her mother, and that love was more than enough for her. What she wanted wasn't some knight in shining armor, but to

experience that pure, unconditional love her mom had given her. If only she could just have a baby... her very own little bundle of joy... who she will love and will love her back unconditionally.

And so the Baby-Making-Project was born.

But how exactly was she going to do this? Well, of course, she needed sperm-but not just any....sperm...

Determined to crack the code of romantic chemistry, she approached it the only way she knew how: like a work project. Naturally, this called for... spreadsheets.

Out came the laptop, and soon enough, she was building a list of attributes like she was shopping for premium ingredients.

Intelligence? Check.

Kindness? Absolutely.

Good genetics and looks? Triple check!

Well, if she was diving into the gene pool, she might as well aim for the deep end! After all, she was on a mission to find the perfect

DNA, why settle for less? Time to swipe left on mediocrity and right on a designer baby!

By the time dawn rolled around, Emma had assembled a list so thorough, it could have been mistaken for an FBI dossier. Names of guys from Instagram, Facebook, her phone contacts-each one scrutinized like she was running background checks for the CIA. Some she knew through family connections, others were friends of friends, or, in some cases, just that cute guy who liked all her vacation photos.

She had already crossed out the ones who didn't meet her stringent requirements: too short, too tall, questionable use of emoji's, suspiciously attached to their gym selfies. The checklist was brutal, but hey, this was a serious business.

As she closed her laptop, exhausted but satisfied, she realized she might need to expand her search to the office. Why not? As long as it didn't fall into that dreaded "conflict of interest" zone.

Emma worked at one of the biggest financial firms in the country. Third Officer in charge of the Marketing and Advertising Section, she was a force to be reckoned with.

Mondays, however, were like a horror movie in her department-chaotic, stressful, and always full of surprises. This particular Monday? Well, it was the plot twist nobody asked for.

Emma was running late. Late!

The one thing she prided herself on was punctuality, and today it was as elusive as a Pikachu of Pokémon. Blame it on staying up half the night crafting the world's most detailed sperm-list. Sure, the list was organized, but her morning? Absolute chaos.

She overslept, naturally. No time to shower-just a quick corporate transformation:

blazer on, hair brushed, and toothbrush hastily shoved into her mouth mid-sprint. She looked like she was auditioning for a role as a multitasking superhero. Then came the drive, where she channeled her inner "Fast and

Furious" action star, parking her car like she had five seconds before the credits rolled. If there were awards for reckless efficiency, she'd definitely be a nominee.

She dashed towards the elevator, her disheveled hair bouncing with the sort of urgency that said, -Yes, I overslept, but I'm still trying!

The elevator doors closed just as she reached them. Classic Monday. But then, miraculously, they opened again, revealing a guy in casual, ragged jeans.

"Jeans? In this building?" Emma blinked.

She flashed him a wide, slightly frazzled smile. "Thanks," she panted.

The guy just grinned back and gestured toward the buttons. "You might want to actually get in the elevator."

Right. Focus, Emma. She joined him inside and quickly hit her floor button. No one else seemed to be around at this hour. A rare

occurrence, but also a blessing. Less witnesses to her current state of chaos.

Emma glanced to the guy in front of her. Tall. Check. Dark and handsome. Double check. In fact, he ticked a lot of her internal boxes: good looks, seemingly good genes, but with an air of nonchalance. But seriously, who wore ragged jeans in a corporate building Did Casual Friday become Casual Monday?

Unbeknownst to her, the guy was also watching her through the reflective elevator doors.

"You work here?" he asked, breaking the

silence.

Emma blinked, a bit surprised. "Uh, yeah, you?"

The guy let out a chuckle, one of those deep, knowing laughs that suggested he was in on some cosmic joke. "Nope. And I never will."

Emma raised an eyebrow, about to ask for details when suddenly, the lights flickered, and the elevator jerked to a stop. They were

plunged into darkness.

Both stared at each other, wide-eyed. The floor gave a little tremble.

Earthquake. Of course, because nothing said

"Monday" quite like being stuck in a metal box during a natural disaster!

The guy chuckled again, his voice echoing in the dim space. "Yeah... definitely never working here."

Emma, on the other hand, was gripping his arm like her life depended on it-because, in

her mind, it did. She was petrified. Elevators high above the ground during an earthquake? That was basically her worst nightmare wrapped in a metal box. The

guy looked at her, trying to catch a glimpse of her face in the dim, flickering light.

"Hey..." he said, his voice calm, like they weren't potentially plummeting to their doom.

Emma didn't respond. She just kept clutching his arm, her fingers icy cold, like she'd just grabbed a handful of snow. Instinctively, he took her hand, hoping to soothe her nerves.

" Hey...There's nothing to worry about, I'm right here. Besides, we're in a building owned by one of the top financial firms in the country. You know they didn't skimp on safety. If we fall, we'll just sue them and get filthy rich."

Emma,despite the terror, couldn't help but chuckle. "That's if we survive the fall," she

muttered.

They both laughed, a little hysterically, but laughed nonetheless. Just then, the shaking

stopped, and the emergency lights flickered on.

"Well," he said, "looks like we'll just have to wait for either the cavalry or for this thing to start moving again."

As they waited, conversation flowed. Emma found herself ranting about her family's

insistence she settle down by 28-as if that was some sort of expiration date. And work? It was a never-ending cycle of corporate monotony. She just wanted to live her life, dammit.

He listened intently, watching every expression that crossed her face, clearly enjoying her company. It was like an impromptu therapy session, minus the couch and plus a potential deathtrap.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably more like ten minutes, the elevator

doors creaked open-on Emma's floor, no less.

"Sir,Ma'am, are you okay?" the elevator technician asked, looking relieved.

Both nodded. The guy nudged Emma with a grin. "Now you've got the perfect excuse for

being late."

Emma smiled back and was about to ask his name when he turned to the tech. "So, can this thing still be used? I'm headed to the penthouse."

Emma blinked. Penthouse?

What was a guy in ragged jeans doing heading to the penthouse? Maybe he was a

maintenance worker or a tech guy fixing someone's Wi-Fi?

The technician pressed a few buttons and gave him a thumbs up. "All good to go."

Before stepping back into the elevator, he reached out, touched Emma's arm, and smiled. "Bye for now, Emma."

Emma's jaw dropped. Wait-how did he

know my name?

He grinned at her before saying "It's me, William"

And with that, the elevator doors slid shut, leaving Emma standing there, dumbfounded. "William? "They hadn't exchanged names. She blinked twice, wondering how on earth she'd just spent the last ten minutes trapped in an elevator with a mysterious, smooth-talking-stranger-named William-who-knew-her name and headed for the penthouse?

The elevator doors opened on the top floor, revealing the penthouse where the executive offices were located. The floor was vast, with dark marble tiles, maple wood accents, and red velvet walls. Giving the space a dark elegant vibe.

William snickered at the sight-it had been quite a while since he'd last been in these halls. The receptionist in the receiving area noticed his presence.

"Sir William?" a woman in a tight red skirt and white blouse greeted him.

"Ms. Mary, it's been a while," William acknowledged her. Mary has been the receptionist of this floor since time immemorial.

"Oh my God, Sir, it really has been a while." She gave him the sweetest smile she could muster. "Are you here to see the Chairman?"

"Yep, had to drop by and say hello. Otherwise, my pension might get cut off." He chuckled.

"But the Chairman isn't in yet," she said, sounding concerned.

"No problem. I'll just wait in his office."

He walked toward the office at the end of the hallway. The plaque on the door read, Chairman.

The room carried a faint scent of bamboo, and the expansive 180-degree view of the city was nothing short of breathtaking. It was a spacious, elegant office.

William settled into the Chairman's chair, propped his sneaker-clad feet on the polished desk, and absentmindedly began squeezing a stress ball. As he swiveled the chair, his eyes lingered on the panoramic view before him.

"Sure does make you feel powerful," he murmured to himself, gazing down at the bustling cityscape. Being here felt like standing at the helm of the world-like you could conquer it all.

The sudden sound of the door opening interrupted his thoughts. William spun the chair around to face the unexpected intruder.

"Well, if it isn't my prodigal baby brother!"

Standing in the doorway was a man in a sharp suit, likely in his early thirties. He was tall, well-built, with thick eyebrows, a strong jawline, and the same brown eyes as William.

"Long time no see. When did you get back?" the man asked.

"Lloyd, it's been two months," William replied with a smile.

"Two months? You've been back for two months, and you're just now showing your face here?"Lloyd strode into the room and sat in the chair beside the President's desk. "Enjoying the Throne, Prince?" he asked with a sneer. Lloyd always tease him as a Prince since they were kids.

"Nope. But I do like the view," William replied nonchalantly.

Q

"So why are you here? Looking for Dad?" Lloyd asked. "Wouldn't it make more sense to go back to the house and see Mom instead?" Lloyd suggested since he knew 1 that their Mom adored William the most.

"Nope. Mom's the reason I'm here," William said, squeezing the stress ball again.

"What did Mom do this time?" Lloyd asked, just as an enigmatic man in his sixties entered the room. He wore a deep blue suit and tie, and his full mustache traced the strong line of his jaw. His face traced with dignified and strength. His piercing brown eyes surveyed the scene.

"Well, what do we have here?" the older man asked, raising his eyebrows at the two younger men seated at his desk.

Lloyd stood up straight, showing respect to the old man, while William remained seated in his chair and squeezing the stress ball. Their father nodded at his eldest son before turning his gaze toward his youngest, still lounging comfortably.

"Drained all your funds?" the old man asked, his voice stern yet tinged with curiosity.

William grinned. "Yes, I'm here to collect my pension."

Lloyd let out an exasperated sigh. "You brat. Show some respect."

Their father raised a hand to silence Lloyd. "Let him be," he said calmly, a hint of indulgence in his tone. William, the youngest, had always been their parent's favorite.

"What happened to your credit cards and accounts?" Lloyd inquired "Dividends are automatically credited there, aren't they?"

William leaned back, still grinning. "It seems they've been frozen."

"By your mother," the old man stated without hesitation.

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "She froze them? How?"

"The bank belongs to us," their father replied.

William shrugged. "Even with the Bank Secrecy Act and all those regulations, it's not like I can sue my own mother or the family's company for freezing my accounts. So, Dad, how about an allowance?"

"No."

Both sons stared at their father. Lloyd, in particular, was stunned. He hadn't expected the old man to refuse his youngest request knowingly that he was the favorite.

Their father's voice was firm. "I'm already 62 years old. It's time for me to retire. And you"-he turned to William-"are 29. It's high time you started earning your keep. Help your brother run the business. Lloyd can teach you everything you need to know."

"I've been earning my own keep," William muttered under his breath. He had no real desire to be involved in the corporate world-it seemed so monotonous. But something about it suddenly felt intriguing. Well, not something-someone. That girl in the elevator. He snapped out of his thoughts when his father's sarcastic tone broke the silence.

"What? That little hobby of yours?" his father scoffed. "It couldn't even cover the maintenance fees for your condo. Lloyd here will need your help once I retire."

Even though Lloyd stayed silent, he knew he didn't need William's help. He could manage the company on his own. In fact, William's involvement would likely just add to his workload.

"Okay," William replied nonchalantly, catching Lloyd off guard.

Lloyd blinked. "What do you mean, 'okay'? Okay, you'll join the company? Or okay, no thank you, sir?" He wasn't sure if he had misheard his younger brother. He knew how much William despised the corporate world. William had always been a free spirit. After college, he left immediately to escape this life everyone kept trying to impose on him.

William stood up, his demeanor unusually serious. He nodded to both his father and brother. "I'll join the company." He wasn't doing it for the money or the prestige. He was a free spirit, after all. But something about this decision felt right-his mind kept circling back to the girl from the elevator. If his instincts were leading him here, he figured he might as well take the plunge.

Their father's face lit up with rare approval. "Good. We'll schedule a board meeting to place you in the executive office. Lloyd, handle the arrangements and set a date as soon as possible."

"Wait," William interjected. "I don't want to start as an executive. If I may, I'd prefer to begin as a regular employee. I want to learn the company from the ground up."

"A regular employee?" Lloyds voice rose in disbelief.