The Gild & The Fall
Description
Samantha's world shatters with two words: "You're pregnant." A high-end call girl with one final assignment standing between her and freedom. Her target: wealthy European businessman, a man whose past holds secrets worth exploiting. Her replacement: a desperate woman who collides into Samantha's life at the perfect moment. Samantha knows that every man has a weakness. Find it. Use it. Walk away rich. But Maxim's weakness runs deeper than money or power. It's buried in grief, wrapped in memories of a woman who died saving his life. And when Samantha discovers the truth about his lost love, she realizes she's found the perfect weapon.
Chapter 1
Jun 13, 2025
Samantha's heels clicked against the marble like gunshots echoing through a cathedral. The luxury hotel lobby sparkled around her and she looked like she owned the place, which honestly, she basically did.
Every head turned as she passed, but she didn't acknowledge a single one.
Why would she? These people paid good money just to breathe the same air as her.
Her tailored black coat hugged her curves in all the right places, and the leather folder in her manicured hands might as well have been a scepter.
This was her kingdom, and she was the undisputed queen.
The penthouse elevator ride felt like ascending to Mount Olympus. When those doors opened, she was ready for worship.
She knocked once—sharp, authoritative. The door swung open to reveal a middle-aged man in an expensive suit who took one look at her and immediately dropped to his knees like she was some kind of goddess.
"Samantha," he breathed, and she could hear the desperation dripping from that single word.
"Hello, Richard." Her voice was silk wrapped around steel. "You may look, but don't touch. Not yet, piggy."
He trembled as she stepped past him into the suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city sprawling below like a conquered territory.
She let her coat slide off her shoulders with practiced precision, revealing what she called her "Eve costume"—her naked body was a creation so perfectly carved to destroy men's resolve that it should've come with a warning label.
Richard's sharp intake of breath told her everything she needed to know. The poor bastard was already gone, and they hadn't even started negotiations yet.
"You're... you're perfect," he whispered, still on his knees.
Samantha smiled—the kind of smile that could launch a thousand ships or sink them just as easily. "I know."
***
Three hours later, she slid into the private dining room of Aurelius, the kind of restaurant where they didn't put prices on the menu because if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.
Robert was already there, nursing a whiskey that probably cost more than most people's rent.
"Well, well," he said, not looking up from his drink. "The queen graces us with her presence."
Robert had that weathered charm that came from decades in the business—the kind of face that had seen everything twice and lived to profit from it.
"Cut the charm, Robert. It doesn't work on me." She settled into the leather chair across from him like she was claiming a throne.
He chuckled, sliding a briefcase across the table with the casual grace of someone who'd done this dance a thousand times.
"Well done, Samantha. Richard was practically writing poetry about you before he signed those papers."
She flipped open the case. Stacked hundreds, neat as a banker's wet dream. The sight should've thrilled her, but tonight it felt... mechanical. Clinical.
Just another transaction in a life built on transactions.
"Forty grand, as agreed," Robert said, lighting a cigarette despite the no-smoking signs plastered everywhere. "But I've got something bigger for you."
"Bigger how?" She counted the bills with practiced efficiency. Old habits.
"Maxim Levin. European businessman, loaded beyond comprehension, and dumb enough to think with his dick instead of his brain."
Robert leaned back, smoke curling around his face like he was some kind of mobster prophet.
"He's flying in next week. You're going to seduce him, make him fall head over heels, then convince him to buy that factory on the east side."
Samantha raised an eyebrow. "The one that's hemorrhaging money faster than a bullet wound?"
"That's the one. He thinks it's a legitimate investment opportunity. Your job is to make sure he stays thinking that way." Robert's smile was all teeth and no warmth. "This could set you up for life, Samantha. We're talking serious money. Close the deal"
She nodded, but something felt different tonight. Off. Like the universe was setting up some cosmic joke and she was the punchline.
She left the meeting with Robert feeling like her skin didn’t quite fit right. She'd played this game a hundred times before—but tonight, the stakes felt heavier.
By the next morning, the gynecologist's office smelled like antiseptic and broken dreams. Dr. Martinez had been Samantha's doctor for five years, and she'd never delivered news that rocked Samantha's world quite like this.
"You're doing great!" Her voice carried the practiced enthusiasm of someone delivering routine good news. "Annual preventive care, perfect compliance. Samantha, everything looks excellent! I'm even surprised."
She smoothed her skirt, already reaching for her purse. "Why surprised? I've never had health problems."
The doctor's pen froze mid-signature. Her eyes darted between the printout and Samantha’s face, confusion creasing her brow.
"But considering your situation..." She trailed off, studying her with new intensity. "At forty-two, this puts significant stress on the body."
"What situation?" The words came out sharper than intended. "What are you talking about?"
Dr. Martinez’s head snapped up, her expression shifting from professional confidence to bewildered concern. A slow, almost apologetic smile spread across his face.
"You don't know." He set down the papers with deliberate care. "Samantha, you're pregnant."
The room tilted. Her hand shot out, gripping the examination table's edge as the world rearranged itself around those impossible words.
"But I can't be... I mean, how?" Samantha's hands shook as she gripped the examination table. "Twenty years ago I had an abortion. The doctor said I'd never have children. He said the scarring—"
"He was wrong."
Something fragile and dangerous flickered across her face—hope, terror, wonder—before she pressed her palm against her stomach with trembling reverence.
"Sometimes the body heals in ways we don't expect," Dr. Martinez said gently. "But Samantha, given your profession, If you want a healthy child, you need complete rest. No exertion of any kind, including sexual activity."
"What do you mean?" The question came out breathless, confused.
"Literally. No sex throughout the entire pregnancy. You must report this restriction."
Her hand dropped from her stomach. "Report to whom?"
"Your husband, partner..." Dr. Kowalski's voice carried the weight of absolute medical decree. "I repeat—this is critical for both your survival and the child's."
The silence that followed was deafening. Samantha stared at him, her mind racing through calculations that had nothing to do with love or joy, everything to do with survival in a world that had just shifted beneath her feet.
What she didn't say hung in the air like a guillotine blade: I have clients. I have bills. I have a life built on the very thing you're telling me I can't do.
Samantha stared at the ultrasound image in her trembling hands. A tiny blob that had just destroyed her entire existence with its microscopic presence.
Her power, her income, her freedom—everything that made her who she was—depended on one act. And now that act could kill the life growing inside her.
She stumbled out of the clinic into the harsh afternoon light, Robert's words echoing in her head like a broken record: "Close the deal. Close the deal. Close the deal."
Her hands found her stomach instinctively. Empty, but not empty. The irony was so sharp it could cut glass.
She slid behind the wheel of her BMW, muscle memory taking over while her brain short-circuited. The engine purred to life, but she could barely hear it over the roaring in her ears.
Maxim Levin. Forty million dollars. A pregnancy that changed everything.
The light ahead was red, but her foot pressed the accelerator anyway. She was flying through the intersection when she saw her—a young girl, maybe eighteen, stepping directly into her path.
Samantha barely had time to register what she was seeing before the impact came.
A scream tore through the air—maybe hers, maybe the girl’s. The sound of metal and flesh colliding was like nothing she’d ever heard. A heavy, sickening thump. Her windshield fractured instantly, a web of cracks bursting outward, streaked with something she didn’t want to name.
She slammed the brakes too late. The car skidded, the world jerking sideways.
Silence followed. Thick. Hollow.
Her hands clutched the steering wheel, frozen. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she stared through the broken glass.
There was someone lying on the pavement. Still.
Samantha’s mind reeled. Did I just hit someone? Did I just… kill someone?
The Gild & The Fall
30 Chapters
30
Contents
Save
Passion Exclusive
My Passion
Copyright © 2026 Passion
XOLY LIMITED, 400 S. 4th Street, Suite 500, Las Vegas, NV 89101