Novels by Kathryn Ukuyoma

EMMA'S POV Three weeks into hormone treatments, and I want to murder everyone.I'm standing in the hotel kitchen trying to plate a dessert while my hands shake and sweat drips down my back. The hormones make me hot all the time, nauseous half the day, and so emotional I cried yesterday because a customer sent back a crème brûlée."Chen, you okay?" One of the line cooks asks. "You look pale.""I'm fine. Just tired."That's the lie I've been telling everyone. Not: I'm pumping my body full of hormones to prepare to carry a billionaire's baby.My phone buzzes. A text from Dominic: "Appointment with Dr. Patel tomorrow at 10 AM. James will pick you up at 9:30."I've seen Dominic exactly twice since that first appointment. But mostly, he's been absent. Texts about appointments. Emails from his assistant. Nothing personal.Exactly what the contract specified.So why does it bother me?I finish my shift and drive to the hospital. Lily's in the common room playing cards. She's gained weight, a

DOMINIC'S POV Dr. Patel's office smells like vanilla and expensive hand sanitizer.I arrived fifteen minutes before Emma. The waiting room has soft lighting and abstract art. Everything designed to make nervous couples feel calm.Except Emma and I aren't a couple. We're a business arrangement, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm doing something fundamentally wrong."Mr. Westbrook?" The receptionist smiles. "Dr. Patel is ready for you.""I'm waiting for someone."I check my phone. One twenty-eight. Emma should be in my car right now. I texted her this morning to confirm, and she responded with one word: "Okay."Not reassuring.The door opens, and Emma walks in. She's wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair down. She looks young and scared."Hi," she says quietly."Hi. Ready?""No. But I'm here."The receptionist leads us to Dr. Patel's office. Photos of babies cover one wall. Hundreds of babies.Soon there will be one more.Dr. Patel enters. She's in her forties with kind eyes."Domi

EMMA'S POV The hospital smells like antiseptic by the time I arrive. I find Lily in her usual room, sketching. She looks up when I enter, and her smile is so bright it breaks my heart."Emmy! I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."I sit on the edge of her bed, clutching my purse where the check from Dominic Westbrook burns like a secret. Two hundred thousand dollars deposited this morning, just like he promised."I have good news. I got a new job. Corporate consulting for a hotel chain. The signing bonus is enough to cover your treatment."The words taste like lies, but Lily's face transforms with such pure joy that I almost believe them myself."Emma, no. That's too much. You can't…""It's already done. Dr. Martinez is starting your treatment next week."Lily starts crying. "I don't know what to say.""Say you'll fight. Say you'll let me do this."She throws her arms around me, and I hold my little sister while she sobs. I'm doing the right thing. Even if it means lying to everyone

DOMINIC'S POV The girl from the freezer won't leave my mind.I sit in my office at midnight, staring at the contract my lawyers drafted, and all I can see is Emma Chen's tear-streaked face. The desperation in her eyes that mirrored something I understood too well.Desperation makes people do impossible things. I should know. I built an empire on it.My phone buzzes. Marcus, my CFO and closest friend."Tell me you didn't actually offer some random hotel employee half a million dollars to be your surrogate," his text reads.I type back: "She's not random. She's perfect.""Perfect how? You met her in a freezer while she was having a breakdown.""Exactly. She needs the money badly enough that she won't get attached. Won't expect more than what the contract offers. Won't complicate things."Three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again. Finally: "You're going to hell."Probably. But I'll be a father before I lose everything my grandmother is threatening to take away.I pull up Emma

EMMA'S POV "Your sister has maybe three months without the treatment." Dr. Martinez's words echo in my head as I race through the hotel's kitchen, my hands shaking so badly I nearly drop the tray of chocolate soufflés. Three months. Ninety days. That's all Lily has left unless I can somehow pull together two hundred thousand dollars for an experimental treatment that insurance won't cover. Two hundred thousand dollars. I can't even afford this month's rent. "Chen, those soufflés needed to be plated five minutes ago!" Chef Bernard's voice cuts through my panic. I nod and force my trembling hands steady. The soufflés are perfect, risen exactly right, the kind of work that should make me proud. Instead, all I can think about is Lily lying in that hospital bed, her skin too pale, her smile too tired. I'm arranging the final garnish when someone slams into me from behind. The tray tips, and I watch in horror as six perfect chocolate soufflés tumble to the floor in a cascade of shatte