Chapter 2

 Zara’s POV

At my desk, I didn't let the denial affect my mood. I didn't let it settle. I opened my laptop, fingers brushing over the keys, trying to drown out the pounding in my chest.

A buzz. My phone. Mom.

How did it go? Are you okay?

I stared at the screen. My thumb hovered. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. I’m managing. 

The truth, but not all of it. I couldn’t burden her yet. She already fought enough.

The office around me blurred. Bills pressed on me, deadlines loomed, and Hale’s refusal was a knife I couldn’t pull out.

If Finance wouldn’t release the funds…

If the CEO wouldn’t bend…

Then what was left?

I leaned back, exhaling slowly, eyes scanning my screen. Then the thought hit me, sharp, almost electric, surrogacy.

I’d seen the whispers online. Women in difficult situations, desperate for money, had taken this path. Not ideal. Not easy. But fast. Legal. Life saving.

I swallowed. My stomach twisted. Fear and calculation tangled together. I could solve this. Provide for Mom. Keep my brother in school. Stay afloat without anyone knowing. But the consequences… heavy, real, and pressing.

Jaw set, shoulders squared, I reminded myself, this is a problem to solve, not a tragedy to mourn.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. One decision and my life will change for the better.  

The cursor blinked, almost impatiently. I typed “Surrogacy agencies Los Angeles.”

The websites were glossy, clinical, polished, discretion, safety and high compensation. Age 21–35, healthy, able to commit to medical protocols. I ticked every box, yet hesitation pressed at my chest. I hadn’t imagined this life, not like this. Not now.

I clicked a video consultation link. The screen filled with the calm, clinical office of Dr. Lennox. She smiled politely, professionally and unreadable.

“Good afternoon, Zara. Thank you for scheduling,” she said.

I returned the greeting, voice steady. “Thank you for seeing me. I… I want to discuss surrogacy.”

Dr. Lennox’s eyes were neutral but sharp. “Of course. We start with your situation and goals. Full transparency is required.”

I explained concisely. Mom’s dialysis, my brother, unpaid bills. I left nothing out.

She listened without judgment. “I see. You’re healthy, aware of the commitment. Medically and legally, you can proceed if you qualify.”

The word “proceed” hit like ice. My chest tightened. But the alternative, watching Mom struggle, falling behind on payments was far worse.

“I understand the commitment,” I said. “I’m ready.”

Dr. Lennox’s gaze measured me. “Medical screening, psychological evaluation, legal consultation. Confidentiality is absolute. If all goes well, you could begin within weeks.”

I nodded. My pulse raced, but determination anchored me. This had to happen.

The next day,  I walked into New Dawn Fertility. It should be one of the best Fertility Centers in LA. Scared of the unknown, I asked to see Dr. Lennox.  Sunlight slanted through the blinds, making everything sharper, brighter, somehow exposing my nerves.

“Zara,” Dr. Lennox greeted. Calm. Professional. Expectant.

“Yes. I’m ready to start.”

“Zara,” Dr. Lennox said, “you’ve come at the perfect time.”

I blinked, confused.

“The couple we’ve been matching with a surrogate, there were complications in prior pregnancies. They needed someone exactly like you, someone ready, reliable, and healthy. Timing is critical, and you’ve arrived just as the window opened.”

I shifted in my seat. “I… I need this,” I admitted, voice low. Money for my mother’s recovery, for the bills piling up.

 She was pleased. “Good. That makes everything smoother. You’ll carry the embryo for them. You won’t know them personally, they won’t know you. Confidentiality is crucial. The child is legally theirs, but you’ll bring it safely into the world.”

I nodded.  She asked a nurse to take me to begin the process.

And then the administrative conflict hit.

A young admin stopped me at the door, clipboard in hand. Her tone was polite, but her eyes were cold.

“Ms. Zara… your age, twenty-nine? That’s quite…. Are you sure you meet the legal and medical criteria? We have to be precise.”

I panicked. My palms itched with irritation. “I meet all criteria. Medical check, BMI, no chronic illness, everything required.”

She flipped through the forms, her pen tapping like a judge’s gavel. “We just need to be absolutely certain. If any detail is off, the process can’t proceed.”

I held my ground, tone steady. “I understand. But I assure you, everything is in order. I’m ready to move forward today.”

Her eyes flickered, unconvinced. My pulse spiked. I felt the heat rise in my face, the tension of waiting, the hours spent calculating every choice, every consequence, all threatening to collapse.

Dr. Lennox appeared, smooth and commanding. “Let’s not waste time. Zara meets all criteria. Proceed with the screenings.”

The admin hesitated, then nodded. Conflict defused, but my heart still thudded. This was my life. No room for error. Not now.

Tests began. Blood drawn, vitals checked, ultrasounds performed. Each procedure was precise, clinical, yet every needle, every beep of the machine reminded me of the stakes. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been in a position like this and I've never been sexually active. And now… now I was in it, fully, completely.

By the time the final screening was complete, Dr. Lennox gave a small, approving smile. “Preliminary results are excellent. You’re eligible to proceed. Next steps will be scheduled immediately. Urgency is understandable, given your circumstances.”

Relief and tension collided in my chest. I exhaled slowly. Fear mixed with determination.

Outside, LA hummed, oblivious. Cars, lights, voices, life went on while mine tilted on a knife edge.

I walked toward the street, coat over my arm, bag slung over my shoulder. Every step reinforced the resolve I had honed all day.

I had chosen a path that would change everything. There was no turning back. Not for my mother. Not for my brother. Not for me.

The ride back was quiet. Streetlights blurred past the windows, but my thoughts were sharp, electric. Sebastian Hale’s office floated in the edges of my mind, cold and untouchable. He denied me, left me with walls I had to climb alone. And yet… somehow, that refusal fueled me more than fear ever could.

I pictured the clinic, the tests, the admin’s skepticism, Dr. Lennox’s calm authority. Every obstacle was a spark, lighting a fire I didn’t know I had.

By the time I reached home, the city had darkened into a lattice of light and shadow. I closed the door behind me, setting my bag down with deliberate calm.

No one knew.

No one could know not yet.

And that was exactly how it had to stay.

I paused for a long moment, looking at the calendar reminder I had set for my follow-up. Each reminder was a step, a heartbeat toward a life I hadn’t imagined.

I was terrified. Exhausted. But above all, I was in control.

And for the first time in weeks, I felt a spark of something like hope.

The stakes were immense. The road was dangerous. The world could never understand this choice.

But I would see it through.

No hesitation.

No compromise.

Only action.