Chapter 3

Before they knew it, a day had passed. Amara was still lost in thought, remembering how eager her husband had been to drive her to Adrian’s private clinic.

Doni sat behind the wheel with a bright face. Too bright, actually.

He hummed softly along to the pop song playing low on the radio, as if they were headed to a relative’s wedding or a weekend getaway. Yet this morning he was taking his wife to the place where she would be handed over to another man’s arms.

In the passenger seat, Amara sat stiff as a mannequin. Both hands twisted the hem of her knee-length floral dress until the expensive fabric was creased beyond repair. Her eyes stared blankly out the window at skyscrapers racing backward.

“Babe, why are you so quiet? Don’t be so tense,” Doni said casually, glancing over. His left hand reached out to stroke her thigh.

Amara shifted slowly away from the touch. How could her husband be this calm?

“Doni, let’s go home, okay?” Amara turned and looked at his face with the last thin thread of hope. “I can’t do this. I feel sick to my stomach. Something feels wrong. Let’s tell Mom we need more time, okay?”

“It’s fine, babe. We already agreed to use the other way, remember? Dr. Adrian will do the injection, so you won’t have to sleep with him.”

“Doni, he’s going to touch me, and he’s going to see my… my private parts!”

Doni sighed, but the smile never left his lips. The same smile Amara used to find comforting now looked like a mask.

“Babe, we went over this last night. It’s for our own good. It’s just a medical procedure, okay? Think of it as a regular checkup with an OB-GYN. Adrian is a professional, and Mom guaranteed his quality,” Doni said easily. “Besides, if we turn around now, Mom’s going to blow up. You want your credit card blocked again like last month?”

The answer hit Amara squarely in the chest. Money, comfort, luxury. That was all that existed in Doni’s head.

The car turned into the lot of a modern three-story building that looked exclusive and private.

A small sign reading Prime Medical Clinic stood in front of the tall fence.

They walked into a waiting room designed to be minimalist but luxurious. The smell was that unmistakable hospital smell, which only made Amara’s stomach turn worse. In one of the single armchairs sat Adrian, reading a file.

He looked up when he heard the bell on the door.

Today Adrian wasn’t wearing the rumpled shirt from yesterday. He wore a crisp white shirt that fit him closely, wrapped around his solid muscles, paired with neat black slacks. His white coat was draped over the arm of the chair, a reminder that he really was a professional OB-GYN.

Honestly, Adrian had liked Amara since the first three months of becoming the Subagja family’s private OB-GYN. Day by day his attraction had only grown, but he understood perfectly well that there was a code of ethics he couldn’t cross, because he was still a practicing doctor.

The way Doni never treated Amara sweetly, plus Ratih pushing him over and over to do this, left him no other choice.

“Good morning, Mr. Pratama, Mrs. Pratama,” Adrian greeted them.

“Morning, Doctor!” Doni answered in a cheerful voice that was clearly put on. He stepped forward and held out his hand eagerly.

Adrian took the offered hand. They shook. Amara stared in horror. Her husband was shaking hands with the man who was about to see what belonged to his wife, touch it, and worse. And Amara saw Doni’s wide grin, like a man greeting an old friend at a school reunion.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Pratama,” Adrian said briefly. His eyes slid toward their clasped hands.

“I trust you, Doc. My mother-in-law says you’re the best. Please take good care of us,” Doni said, clapping Adrian on the shoulder as if he were dropping off his car at a repair shop. “Make sure my wife is comfortable. She’s a little spoiled and timid, so please be patient with her.”

Adrian let go of the handshake, and his gaze shifted to Amara, who stood frozen near the door.

“Of course, sir. Professionalism is my priority,” Adrian replied, looking straight into Amara’s glistening eyes. “I’ll take very good care of your wife.”

Suddenly the phone in Doni’s pocket rang loudly.

Doni pulled it out, looked at the screen, and put on a fake panicked face. “Whoa, the office is calling. Must be about the new contract bid.”

He turned to Amara and kissed her cheek quickly. A kiss that felt cold and hollow.

“Babe, I have to go back to the office right now. There’s an urgent meeting. You stay here with Adrian, okay? When you’re done, text me or have the driver pick you up,” Doni said without a trace of guilt.

“Doni, you’re leaving me here alone?” Amara whispered, her hand instinctively clutching his shirt sleeve.

Doni peeled her hand away gently, smiling in a reassuring way. “Just for a little while. Besides, it’s a private procedure, standard medical protocol. I’m not allowed to go in. Be good, babe!”

Doni’s footsteps faded, followed by the sound of the glass door closing and a car engine roaring away.

Silence settled over the room again.

Now, in that cold waiting room, only two people were left.

Amara stared at the door where her husband had vanished, her gaze empty. Her heart was shattered.

“Please come into my office,” Adrian ordered, pointing to the door behind him with his chin. “My time is valuable, and your fertile window won’t wait forever.”

The exam room door shut tight. The sound of the hinge meeting the frame rang loud in Amara’s ears. But it was nothing compared to the sound of the key, turned twice by Adrian’s strong hand.

Click.

Click.

Her body, wrapped in an expensive floral dress, suddenly felt tiny in front of the man who now held complete power over her. Amara stepped back until her spine hit the cold wall. Her eyes darted around the room, which smelled sharply of antiseptic.

The room was spacious, dominated by a blinding white.

In the corner stood a gynecological exam chair with terrifying iron leg supports. It stood there arrogantly, as if waiting for its next victim to be sacrificed on it. There, her dignity would be skinned alive to feed her mother’s ambition and her husband’s greed.

“Don’t just stand there, Mrs. Pratama, we don’t have much time. I don’t want to do this either.” Adrian’s deep voice broke the oppressive quiet.

He said it without turning around, busy at a stainless steel table covered with medical instruments. His broad back, wrapped in the fitted white shirt, looked solid and intimidating.

Amara swallowed saliva that tasted bitter in her throat. Her legs shook badly as she forced herself to move toward the ordinary patient chair in the corner.

Adrian pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box. The sound of rubber stretching, then snapping tight against his skin, struck Amara’s ears as indecent. He moved with the efficiency of a professional. He took a small sterile tube from a special refrigerator.

Inside that tube was a big secret that Adrian kept tightly hidden.