The knock came at midnight—sharp, impatient, like it owned the night. I opened the door in sweatpants, ready to scream at noisy neighbors, but froze. A man stood there, drenched from the downpour, jaw tight, eyes blazing with fury.\n\n"You have something that belongs to me," he said, voice like ice cracking under steel. He held up a familiar medical envelope—the one I’d opened yesterday. My donor sample. Except… the name on it wasn’t mine. It read: Adrian Crawford.\n\n"There’s been a mistake," I stammered.\n\n"No," he said, stepping forward. "There’s been a solution. You want a baby. I need a wife. Let’s fix both problems."\n\nMy heart pounded. This stranger—this intense, terrifyingly handsome stranger—was offering a contract. For a child. For a life. But one look in his eyes told me: nothing about this would stay business.