Chapter Two

OLIVIA'S POV 

"I'm not pregnant," I said, gripping the edge of the sink.

Victoria's perfectly shaped eyebrow arched. "I've had three children. I know morning sickness when I see it."

I rinsed my mouth, buying time. "It's probably just something I ate."

"At seven in the morning? When you haven't eaten yet?" She stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. "Does Damien know?"

"There's nothing to know."

"Olivia." Her voice softened in a way I'd never heard before. "I may have pushed for this arrangement, but I'm not blind. I see how you look at my son. And last night—"

"Last night was a mistake," I cut her off. "He made that very clear."

Victoria studied me for a long moment. "Take a test. Know for certain. Then we'll talk about what comes next."

She left before I could argue. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, pale and shaken. It had only been one night. One drunken, grief-fueled mistake. The chances were slim.

But even as I thought it, I knew. Some instinct, some deep certainty in my bones told me Victoria was right.

I couldn't deal with this now. I had to get Ethan ready for school, review the household accounts, and somehow survive a family dinner with Emma while pretending my world wasn't crumbling.

****************

By seven PM, I'd convinced myself I was overreacting. The nausea could be stress. My period was only a few days late. I just needed to get through this dinner, take a test tomorrow, and confirm I was panicking over nothing.

Emma arrived exactly on time, carrying a designer handbag and wearing Catherine's signature perfume. I recognized it because Damien kept a bottle in his study, though he claimed he didn't.

"Olivia," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "You look tired."

"Long day," I replied, leading her to the dining room where Damien and Victoria were already seated. Ethan had refused to come down.

Damien stood when we entered, kissing Emma's cheek. "You look well."

"So do you." She touched his arm, letting her hand linger. "It's been too long."

I took my seat at the opposite end of the table, the designated wife position, and tried not to feel like an intruder in my own home.

Dinner was painful. Emma and Damien reminisced about Catherine, trading stories I'd heard before. Victoria attempted to steer conversation elsewhere, but Emma always circled back.

"Remember that Christmas in Aspen?" Emma laughed. "When Catherine convinced you to try the black diamond run?"

"She convinced me to do a lot of foolish things," Damien said, and his smile was genuine for the first time in months.

I pushed food around my plate, my stomach churning.

"Olivia, you're not eating," Victoria observed.

"I'm fine," I said.

Emma's eyes sharpened. "Are you feeling alright? You do look pale."

"Just tired," I repeated.

"Well, you won't have to work so hard much longer," Emma said brightly. "Once the contract ends, you can go back to nursing. That's what you really wanted, wasn't it?"

The words were kind, but the message was clear: *You're temporary. I'm family forever.*

"Actually," Damien said, and something in his tone made everyone look up. "I wanted to discuss something with all of you. Emma, I know we've talked privately, but I think it's time to make it official."

My heart stopped.

"I've been considering options for expanding our family. Ethan needs a sibling, and I want..." He paused, his jaw working. "I want to preserve what I can of Catherine."

Emma reached across the table, taking his hand. "I think it's beautiful. Catherine would want this."

"What exactly are we discussing?" Victoria asked carefully.

"Surrogacy," Damien said. "Using Catherine's preserved eggs. Emma has agreed to help coordinate the process, find the right surrogate, and handle the medical aspects. She's been researching facilities."

The room tilted. I gripped the edge of the table.

"When did you decide this?" Victoria's voice was sharp.

"I've been thinking about it for months. Emma and I have been discussing options, and I've already consulted with the fertility clinic. They said the eggs are viable." Damien's eyes were bright with something I'd never seen before. Hope. "I could have a piece of her back. A child that's really mine."

A child that's really mine.

The words hung in the air like poison. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor.

"Excuse me," I managed.

I made it to the hallway bathroom before being sick again. When I came out, Victoria was waiting.

"You need to tell him," she said quietly.

"Tell him what? That I'm carrying a child he doesn't want? That while he's planning to recreate his perfect wife, I'm pregnant with the baby from the night he can't even acknowledge what happened?"

"He has a right to know."

"He has a right to the family he wants. And that's not me." I pushed past her, heading for the stairs.

Ethan was sitting on the landing, clearly eavesdropping. "Is Dad really getting a new baby?"

"Maybe," I said carefully.

"Will it be my real brother? Or like you're my fake mom?"

The words shouldn't have hurt, but they did. "I'm not your fake mom, Ethan."

"But you're leaving in six months. That's what Dad said. When the contract ends." His voice cracked. "So you're not my real mom. Real moms don't leave."

I pulled him into a hug, but he stayed stiff. "It's complicated."

"Everything's complicated." He pulled away. "I heard Emma talking to Grandma. She said once you're gone, she'll help Dad find someone better. Someone more like Mom."

"Ethan—"

"I don't want someone like Mom. I want you." He ran to his room, slamming the door.

I stood alone on the stairs, hand unconsciously moving to my stomach. A baby. Growing inside me. Created from one night of grief and loneliness with a man who was actively planning to replace it with the child he actually wanted.

My phone buzzed. A text from Marcus, my only friend from the hospital: “Coffee tomorrow? You sound stressed in your emails." 

I typed back: " Can you help me with something? I might need to disappear when my contract ends." 

His response was immediate: “What's going on?" 

" I'll explain tomorrow. But I need options. Places I can go where no one will find me.”

"You're scaring me.”

“I'm scared too”, I admitted.

Downstairs, I heard Emma's laugh, bright and clear. Then Damien's voice, animated in a way it never was with me: "We should tour the clinic next week. I want to see the facilities."

I went to the master bedroom and locked the door. In the back of my bathroom cabinet, behind the expensive lotions Victoria had bought me to "look the part," I found the pregnancy test I'd hidden there three days ago. I'd been too afraid to use it.

Not anymore.

Five minutes later, I stared at two pink lines.

Pregnant.

I was pregnant with Damien Ross's child while he planned to have a baby with his dead wife's eggs. I was pregnant, alone, and had six months before my contract ended and I became nothing more than a footnote in this family's history.

I heard footsteps in the hallway. A knock on the door.

"Olivia?" Damien's voice. "Emma's leaving. You should say goodbye."

I looked at the test in my hand, then at the door.

"I'm not feeling well," I called out. "Tell her I'm sorry."

A pause. Then: "Are you sick? Should I call a doctor?"

*Yes*, I thought. *Call a doctor. Because I'm pregnant and terrified and I don't know what to do.*

"I'm fine," I said. "Just need to rest."

Another pause. "We should talk. About dinner. I know it was sudden, the announcement about the surrogacy. But I thought you should know my plans since you'll be here for a few more months."

A few more months. That's all I was. A temporary placeholder until he could build his real family.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "It's your decision. Your family."

"That's what I wanted to hear." Relief colored his tone. "Emma was worried you might... complicate things."

I pressed my hand against my stomach, where a tiny life was growing. A complication he didn't even know existed yet.

"I won't complicate anything," I promised.

"Good. Goodnight, Olivia."

His footsteps retreated.

I waited until the house was quiet, until I heard his door close down the hall. Then I pulled out my laptop and searched for apartments in different cities. Places where Damien Ross's money and influence couldn't reach.

My phone buzzed again. Marcus: " Found a few options. My cousin has a place in Portland. No questions asked.”

I typed: “How soon can I move in?”

"Whenever you need. But Liv, what's really going on?”

I looked at the pregnancy test still clutched in my hand, then at my reflection in the mirror. Eighteen months ago, I'd thought this arrangement would give me the family I'd always wanted. Instead, I was more alone than ever.

“I made a mistake,” I typed. “And now I'm going to be a mother.”

The three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Finally: “Does he know?”

"No," I whispered to my empty room. "And he never will.”