Chapter 3: Plan

Elijah Theodore Martinez

“That’s pretty early, bro,” Rashid commented. He had been my best friend since elementary school. He owned the bar I often went to. Well, technically, we both owned it since I was the one who invested in his business.

Rashid came from a poor family. I met him when I skipped classes back in Grade Five while he was selling sampaguita flowers near our school.

I was so bored during that time and maybe suffocated by my bodyguards, so without thinking, I joined him in selling his sampaguita flowers. From then on, we became best friends. I often escaped from school just to meet up with him, while he would sneak into our house so we could play in my room. When we reached high school, I convinced my Dad to give Rashid a scholarship until college, which made our friendship even stronger.

“Is this about Uncle again and his obsession with having a grandchild?” he asked—or rather, stated—because he already knew that was always my problem.

From behind the bar counter where he was preparing drinks for his customers, Rashid walked over and sat beside me. He slid a glass of whiskey toward me and lightly clinked his own glass against it.

“What else could it be?” I sighed before downing the drink in one gulp. The liquor burned down my throat, but I didn’t care and pushed my glass back toward Rashid for another round.

“This time, I think I really messed up, bro,” I began. I told him everything that happened between me and Rachel, all the way to Dad’s phone call earlier that morning.

“Bro, that’s seriously a huge problem. So, what’s your plan now?” he asked, sounding like even he didn’t know what to do with my situation.

I emptied another glass before answering him again. “You know marrying someone is not one of my options, right?” I stated.

“Yeah, I know. And that’s the problem. How are you supposed to have a child if you won’t get married? You also can’t just pick up some random woman and get her pregnant because she’ll probably use the child to trap you,” he bluntly pointed out.

Because of what he said, I rubbed my temples again when they suddenly started throbbing. As much as possible, I really didn’t want to think about what Dad wanted. The problem was, he had already given me an ultimatum, and I knew that whatever he said, he would really do. After all, I inherited my stubbornness from him.

And it wasn’t like I’d willingly let our wealth end up with that woman. I was sure the man she was living with now and her child would benefit from everything Dad and I had worked hard for.

“I have a plan in mind, but I just don’t know if it’ll work,” I calmly said after a few moments.

“What plan?” Rashid asked again, looking ready to help me however he could.

“First, I can’t adopt because if I’m cunning, Dad is even more cunning. He’d definitely order a DNA test the moment he gets his hands on the child. That’s where my plan comes in. I was thinking of getting a surrogate mother for my child. We don’t even need to have sex or meet. Through IVF, my child can still be conceived. What do you think?” I explained at length.

Rashid nodded slowly, as if processing everything I said. It took him so long to respond that I managed to finish two more glasses before facing him again.

“Bro,” I called to get his attention.

“I understand your plan, bro. I’m just thinking about how safe surrogacy is here in the Philippines. Plus, you only want the child conceived through IVF,” he began explaining.

“And bro, based only on what I’ve heard, IVF pregnancies can have risks. Some women miscarry often, or sometimes the baby is born with complications. As for the expenses, I don’t doubt you can handle them—even if you did it with ten women at the same time. The question is, can you accept the child if they end up having a disability? Personally, I still think the natural way of conceiving a child is safer. It’s safer and feels better too,” he added jokingly, laughing at his last remark.

Rashid really was smart, which was why he was the one I usually turned to whenever I had problems, even though I had other friends too. Somehow, even when the conversation became serious, he still couldn’t stop himself from mixing jokes into what he said.

“So what are you suggesting now?” I asked seriously, ignoring the nonsense he said earlier.

“What I’m suggesting is that you still get a surrogate mother—or maybe more of a baby maker if you’re planning to use the woman’s own egg cell to create the heir of Martinez Corp. But before any of that happens, you need to talk to the girl first and make her sign a contract stating that she can’t make any claims against you after giving birth. And that the child she carries will only be yours, not hers,” he said seriously this time.

“That’s a brilliant idea. Good thing you’re really my friend. And because of that, you should start drafting the contract now,” I said with a grin. After all, he was the one who came up with the whole plan, and he was also my lawyer. Even if he acted like a fool whenever we were together, I knew I could trust him with matters like this.

For now, there was only one thing left for me to worry about—where I would find a woman willing to agree to my plan. Where I would find a woman willing to become the surrogate mother of my child.