Chapter 3

Nora's POV

The apartment smells like mildew and old takeout. I drop my bag by the door and the sound echoes in the empty space. Almost empty. I still have my mattress on the floor, a folding chair, and a lamp. Everything else got sold months ago to make rent.

I should lie down. My body is screaming at me to rest. But I can't stop moving. Can't stop thinking about what the lawyer said.

Moral breach. Adjusted payment. Nothing.

I dig through my bag until I find the contract. The original one I signed ten months ago. Fifty-three pages of legal language that I skimmed because I was desperate and stupid and thought Jade was still my friend.

I sink onto the mattress and start reading. Really reading this time.

The first twenty pages are standard. Surrogacy terms. Medical procedures. Pregnancy requirements. I followed all of these. Every single one. No alcohol. No smoking. All the appointments. All the vitamins. Every restriction they demanded.

Page twenty-one. Compensation terms. There it is in black and white. "Upon successful delivery of a healthy infant, the Surrogate shall receive payment of one hundred thousand dollars ($100,000) within thirty (30) days of birth."

My hands shake as I flip forward. There has to be something I missed. Some loophole they used.

Page thirty-four. I find it.

"Clause Seventeen: Moral Conduct and Behavioral Standards. The Surrogate agrees to maintain appropriate professional boundaries with the Intended Parents throughout the term of this agreement. The Surrogate shall not engage in behavior deemed emotionally manipulative, overly familiar, or inappropriate as determined by the Intended Parents. Violation of this clause may result in adjustment or forfeiture of final compensation at the sole discretion of the Intended Parents."

At the sole discretion of the Intended Parents.

I read it three times. Four times. The words don't change.

They can decide I breached it for any reason. Or no reason. And there's nothing I can do.

I flip to the next page, looking for definitions. What counts as overly familiar? What's the standard? There's nothing. Just vague language that gives Marcus complete control.

My phone rings. Unknown number. I almost don't answer but something makes me pick up.

"Miss Ashford?" A woman's voice. Professional. Cold.

"Yes."

"This is Rebecca Finch from Consolidated Debt Solutions. I'm calling regarding your outstanding balance of forty-nine thousand, two hundred and seventeen dollars."

Forty-nine thousand. It went up again.

"I don't have it," I say. My voice sounds hollow.

"We've been very patient, Miss Ashford. But we need to discuss immediate payment options. We understand you recently completed a surrogacy contract with substantial compensation."

My stomach drops. "How do you know about that?"

"We make it our business to know about our clients' financial situations. One hundred thousand dollars would more than cover your debt. When can we expect payment?"

"I'm not getting that money."

Silence on the other end. Then, "I'm sorry?"

"The contract fell through. I'm not getting paid." Saying it out loud makes it real. Makes it worse.

"Miss Ashford, our records show the baby was born yesterday. The contract should be fulfilled."

"It was. But there was a clause. They're not paying me."

More silence. I can hear her typing. "I see. That's unfortunate. However, your debt remains. We'll need to proceed with legal action unless you can provide an alternative payment plan."

"I just gave birth yesterday. I can't work for weeks."

"That's not our concern. You have forty-eight hours to contact us with a payment solution, or we'll move forward with wage garnishment and asset seizure." She hangs up.

I throw the phone across the room. It hits the wall but doesn't break. Cheap phone. Can't even break properly.

I go back to the contract. Keep reading. Looking for something, anything I can use.

Page forty-one. Another clause.

"The Surrogate acknowledges that all decisions regarding the child's care, naming, and future are solely the right of the Intended Parents. The Surrogate has no claim to custody, visitation, or contact with the child after birth."

Page forty-five. More.

"The Surrogate agrees that any attempt to contact the child or Intended Parents after the conclusion of this agreement may result in legal action including but not limited to restraining orders and financial penalties."

They thought of everything. Every possible angle. Every way to control me, use me, and throw me away.

I should've read this more carefully. Should've had a lawyer look at it. But lawyers cost money I didn't have, and I was drowning, and Jade promised it would be simple. Safe. Mutually beneficial.

She lied.

They both lied.

My phone buzzes with a text. I grab it off the floor.

It's from my landlord. "Rent was due three days ago. Need payment by end of week or starting eviction process."

I want to scream. I want to break something. Instead, I just sit there on my mattress holding this useless contract and feeling the walls close in.

There's a knock at the door.

I freeze. The debt collectors wouldn't show up this fast. Would they?

Another knock. Harder this time.

I get up slowly, my body protesting every movement. Look through the peephole.

It's building security. An older guy named Ray who usually just nods at me in the lobby.

I open the door. "Hey, Ray."

He doesn't smile. "Miss Ashford. I need you to come with me."

"What? Why?"

"There's been a complaint. You need to leave the building."

"A complaint? From who?"

"I can't say. But I have instructions to escort you out if you don't leave voluntarily."

My brain struggles to catch up. "Ray, I live here. This is my apartment."

"Not according to the landlord. He called an hour ago, said your lease is terminated effective immediately. Said you'd been served notice."

"I haven't been served anything."

Ray looks uncomfortable. He's just doing his job, I can tell. "Look, I don't want trouble. But I have my orders. You can take your things, but you need to go."

"I just got home from the hospital. I gave birth yesterday."

"I'm sorry. I really am. But those are my instructions."

This is Marcus. It has to be. He's not just taking my money. He's taking everything.

"Can I at least pack?" I ask.

"You've got thirty minutes."

Ray stands in the doorway while I throw my life into two duffel bags. It doesn't take long. I don't own much. Clothes. A few books. My laptop that barely works. The folder with Dad's papers that I can't bring myself to throw away.

I grab the photo the nurse gave me, still tucked in my wallet. Stare at it for a second. That tiny face. Then I shove it deep into the bag.

Twenty-eight minutes later, I'm standing on the sidewalk with everything I own. Ray won't look at me as he locks the building door.

"Where am I supposed to go?" I ask him.

"I don't know, kid. I'm sorry."

He goes back inside. I'm alone on the street with two bags and a body that feels like it's falling apart.

It's getting dark. I need to find somewhere to sleep. I think about shelters but I've heard stories. Not safe for someone in my condition. I could try to find a cheap motel but I have maybe two hundred dollars left in my account and that won't last long.

My phone rings again. I almost don't answer but the number looks familiar.

"Hello?"

"Nora Ashford?" A man's voice. Deep. Unfamiliar.

"Who is this?"

"My name is Detective Sarah Chen. I'm with the NYPD. I'd like to talk to you about your father's death."

The world tilts. "My father?"

"William Ashford. His case was ruled a suicide five years ago, but I'm reviewing some inconsistencies. I understand you're his only living relative."

"Why are you looking into this now?"

"New evidence came to light. Can we meet? I have some questions."

I look around at the street, at my bags, at the building that just kicked me out. "When?"

"Tomorrow morning? There's a coffee shop on Fifth and Union. Ten o'clock?"

"I'll be there."

She hangs up. I stand there trying to process. My father's death. New evidence. After five years of being told it was suicide, that he gave up, that he left me with nothing but debt and questions.

What evidence?

My phone buzzes. Another text. This one from a number I don't recognize.

"You should've stayed away from what wasn't yours."

I stare at it. What wasn't mine? The baby? She was inside my body for nine months. How is that not mine?

Another text. "If you know what's good for you, you'll disappear. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

The number is blocked. Could be Marcus. Could be Jade. Could be anyone.

I delete the messages but my hands are shaking.

A car pulls up to the curb. Black sedan. Expensive. The window rolls down and I see Marcus in the back seat.

No. Not Marcus. A driver. But Marcus is there, looking at me through tinted glass.

The driver gets out. "Miss Ashford. Mr. Wolfe would like a word."

"Tell Mr. Wolfe to go to hell."

"Please, Miss Ashford. Just five minutes."

I should walk away. I should tell him where to shove it. But I'm tired and broken and maybe, maybe there's some explanation. Maybe this is all a mistake.

I'm an idiot.

I get in the car.

Marcus is on the far side of the back seat, maintaining distance. He's in another perfect suit. Looks like he slept well. Probably did.

"Nora," he says. His voice is calm. Controlled. "I wanted to check on you."

"Check on me?" I laugh. It sounds slightly unhinged. "You ruined my life and you want to check on me?"

"I understand you're upset about the financial arrangement."

"Upset? I'm homeless, Marcus. I just got kicked out of my apartment. Debt collectors are threatening to sue me. And you took my baby and gave me nothing."

"You violated the contract."

"How? Tell me exactly how I violated anything."

He's quiet for a moment. Then, "You became too attached. It was inappropriate."

"I was pregnant for nine months. You think I could do that and feel nothing?"

"That's exactly what the contract required. Professional distance. You failed to maintain it."

"Name one thing I did wrong. One specific thing."

He looks out the window. "You asked about names. About nursery colors. You tried to insert yourself into decisions that weren't yours to make."

"I asked two questions in nine months. That's overly familiar?"

"The spirit of the agreement was clear. You knew what this was."

I stare at him. Really look at him. Trying to find any hint of the human I thought I saw yesterday when he held the baby. But there's nothing. Just ice.

"You planned this from the start," I say. "You never intended to pay me."

"I paid your medical expenses. That's more than adequate for the service rendered."

Service rendered. Like I delivered a package.

"You're destroying me," I whisper. "Why? What did I do to deserve this?"

For just a second, something flickers in his expression. But it's gone before I can identify it.

"This is just business, Nora. Nothing personal."

"It's my life."

"You signed the contract. You agreed to the terms. I'm simply enforcing them."

I reach for the door handle. "We're done here."

"Wait." His voice stops me. "I'm willing to offer you something."

I turn back. "What?"

"Five thousand dollars. Enough to get you back on your feet. In exchange for your signature on one more document."

"What document?"

He pulls a paper from his briefcase. Hands it to me. I scan it quickly. Legal language but the meaning is clear. I agree never to contact him, Jade, or the baby. I agree never to tell anyone about the surrogacy. I agree to disappear.

"A non-disclosure agreement," I say.

"And a no-contact agreement. Sign it, and you'll have five thousand dollars wired to your account within the hour."

Five thousand wouldn't even cover a month's rent and food. It's nothing. An insult.

But it's more than the nothing I have now.

"Why do you care if I talk about this?" I ask. "You have lawyers. Contracts. You already own me."

"I don't own you, Nora. I'm offering you a clean break. A chance to move on with your life."

"By silencing me."

"By protecting my family."

His family. The one he built with my body.

I look at the paper again. My signature would mean giving up any chance of fighting this. Any chance of ever seeing her again.

But what chance do I have anyway? I have no money. No lawyer. No power.

I'm already beaten.

"Where do I sign?" I ask.

He shows me. I sign. My hand doesn't shake this time. I'm past shaking. Past feeling.

"The money will be in your account within the hour," Marcus says. He takes the document, slides it into his briefcase. "The driver will take you wherever you need to go."

"I don't need your driver."

"Nora." He says my name like it costs him something. "I'm not a monster. I know this is difficult. But it's better this way. For everyone."

"Better for who?"

He doesn't answer.

I get out of the car. Grab my bags from the sidewalk. The sedan pulls away and I watch it disappear into traffic.

My phone buzzes. Bank notification. Five thousand dollars deposited.

I should feel something. Relief. Anger. Anything.

But I just feel empty.

A security guard approaches me. Different one this time. Younger. "Ma'am, you can't loiter here."

"I'm leaving."

"Where to?"

Good question.

I pick up my bags and start walking. No destination in mind. Just away. Away from the building. Away from the hospital. Away from everything.

My body screams at me to stop. To rest. But I keep going.

I make it three blocks before I have to sit down on a bench. A woman passes by, looks at me with concern. Probably because I'm holding my stomach, probably because I look like hell.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"I'm fine."

She doesn't look convinced but she walks away anyway.

I sit there as the sun goes down. Watch people pass by. Everyone with somewhere to go. Someone to go home to.

I have nobody. Nothing.

My phone rings. I don't recognize the number but I answer anyway.

"Miss Ashford?" A man's voice. Official-sounding.

"Yes."

"This is Officer Martinez with building security at your former residence. We found some items you left behind. Personal documents. You'll need to collect them by tomorrow or they'll be disposed of."

"What items?"

"A box in the storage unit. Says it belonged to William Ashford."

Dad's things. The box I couldn't bring myself to go through after he died.

"I'll be there," I say.

He gives me a time. Hangs up.

I look at my bags. At the bench. At the darkening sky.

Tomorrow I'll meet the detective. Find out what evidence she has. Get Dad's box.

Tonight, I need to survive.

I pull out my phone and search for the nearest women's shelter. Find one six blocks away. It's not much. But it's something.

I pick up my bags and start walking again.

Behind me, somewhere in this city, my daughter is sleeping in a nursery I'll never see. With parents who will never tell her about me.

And I just signed away any right to change that.