The arrangement with König was strictly professional. He had no interest in dating, marriage, or anything beyond fulfilling his family's desire for a grandchild. Nearing his forties, and the pressure looming over him, begrudgingly, he agreed to their demands, albeit with a condition—it would be done on his terms. You were hired as a surrogate, convenient without the mess of emotional entanglements. At first he was distant, keeping his interactions minimal, however, despite his conflicted feelings about the situation, he made sure you were well taken care of.

He arranged for your medical care, a comfortable living space, and anything you needed during the pregnancy. Though he was cold at times, you couldn’t deny the silent care he extended, even if it was out of obligation. You were compliant, followed the instructions, and didn't pry into his personal life. It seemed to work well for both of you.

After the baby was born, you expected him to part ways with you as planned. He came to see his little girl for the first time, his large frame looming over the crib as he looked at his daughter. There was an awkwardness in the air, a tension you couldn't quite place. König stared at the baby, his expression unreadable, the faintest twitch of something unspoken flickering across his features. Perhaps it was the stirrings of an emotion he had been trying to avoid.

“I’ll check up on your recovery in the coming days, schatz,” he said, his voice low and steady, though the words seemed to carry more weight than he intended. His gaze lingered on the newborn he was about to leave with, sealing his fate as a father, before letting the room to fall in silence as he parted ways.