CHAPTER 3

EMMA'S POV

The hospital smells like antiseptic by the time I arrive. I find Lily in her usual room, sketching. She looks up when I enter, and her smile is so bright it breaks my heart.

"Emmy! I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

I sit on the edge of her bed, clutching my purse where the check from Dominic Westbrook burns like a secret. Two hundred thousand dollars deposited this morning, just like he promised.

"I have good news. I got a new job. Corporate consulting for a hotel chain. The signing bonus is enough to cover your treatment."

The words taste like lies, but Lily's face transforms with such pure joy that I almost believe them myself.

"Emma, no. That's too much. You can't…"

"It's already done. Dr. Martinez is starting your treatment next week."

Lily starts crying. "I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll fight. Say you'll let me do this."

She throws her arms around me, and I hold my little sister while she sobs. I'm doing the right thing. Even if it means lying to everyone I love. Even if it means carrying a stranger's baby and pretending my heart won't shatter when I hand it over.

"What does this consulting job involve?" Lily asks when she pulls back.

"Reviewing operations, suggesting improvements. It's a great opportunity."

Lily studies my face. She's always been able to read me too well. "You're not telling me something."

My heart stops. "What do you mean?"

"You look different. Scared, maybe? Or sad?"

"I'm just tired. It's been a long week."

Dr. Martinez knocks and enters before she can push further.

"Emma! I heard the excellent news. We can start treatment immediately. Your sister has a real chance now."

"How long until we know if it's working?"

"We'll see initial results in about eight weeks."

Eight weeks. By then, I'll probably be pregnant with Dominic Westbrook's baby.

I stayed with Lily for another hour, then drove to the address Dominic texted me. His lawyer's office occupies the entire fortieth floor of a downtown skyscraper.

A woman in a severe suit greets me. "Ms. Chen? I'm Rebecca Torres, Mr. Westbrook's attorney."

She leads me to a conference room where Dominic is already seated.

"Emma. Please, sit."

Rebecca opens a thick folder. "We have several documents for you to sign today. The surrogacy contract, non-disclosure agreement, medical release forms, and trust documents."

Dominic speaks up. "You received two hundred thousand immediately. Another one hundred and fifty thousand becomes available when you sign today. The final one hundred and fifty thousand releases when the baby is born and all parental rights are terminated."

It sounds so clinical and cold.

"What about the medical procedures?" I ask.

Rebecca slides papers across the table. "Dr. Sarah Patel will handle everything. You'll meet with her next week for initial screening, then begin hormone treatments to prepare your body for implantation."

"How long does this take?"

"Several weeks to prepare, then the embryo transfer. If it takes the first time, you could be pregnant within six weeks."

Six weeks until my life completely changes.

"What if it doesn't take the first time?"

"We try again," Dominic says. "The contract covers up to three attempts."

Rebecca clears her throat. "Once you're pregnant, no alcohol, no smoking, limited caffeine. You'll follow Dr. Patel's nutritional guidelines. There are restrictions on travel, physical activity, and employment."

"Employment? I have to quit my job?"

"Once you're pregnant, yes," Dominic says. "The contract requires you to focus entirely on carrying the baby safely. You'll receive a monthly stipend."

I stare at him. "You're going to control my entire life for nine months."

"I'm going to ensure my child is carried safely. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Emma, if you're having doubts, now is the time to say so."

But I think of Lily, starting treatment next week because of this money.

"Where do I sign?"

Rebecca walks me through every document. My hand cramps from signing my name so many times.

Finally, it's done. Rebecca stands. "I'll give you two a moment."

She leaves, and suddenly it's just me and Dominic.

"There's one more thing," he says. "Living arrangements. Once you're pregnant, you'll need to move into my penthouse."

I nearly choke. "Excuse me?"

"The contract specifies that during the pregnancy, you'll reside in accommodations I provide."

"You want to monitor me like I'm some kind of experiment?"

"I want to make sure my child is safe."

"You keep saying that. But it all sounds the same to me. Controlling."

His jaw tightens. "I'm paying you half a million dollars. I think reasonable oversight is….."

"Reasonable?" I stand up, anger flooding through me. "You want me to live with you, carry your baby, follow your rules, and then hand over the child like none of it mattered. Does any of that sound reasonable?"

Dominic stands too. "This is what you agreed to."

"I agreed to be a surrogate. Not a prisoner."

"You'll have your own space. Privacy. My housekeeper will help. You won't even see me most of the time. I work constantly."

"Then why do I need to live with you at all?"

"Because….." He stops, running a hand through his hair. "Because I need to know you're okay. You and the baby. Is that so terrible?"

The admission surprises me. There's something vulnerable in his voice.

"I have an apartment. A life."

"Keep your apartment. But during the pregnancy, especially the third trimester, I need you close. Non-negotiable."

I've already signed the papers. Already taken the money. Already set Lily's treatment in motion.

"Fine. But I'm keeping my apartment, and I come and go as I please."

"Agreed."

"And you stay out of my way."

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Fair point."

"When do I meet Dr. Patel?"

"Wednesday at two. I'll have my driver pick you up."

"I can drive myself."

"Emma. Let me help. That's part of this arrangement too."

I'm suddenly exhausted. "Okay. Wednesday at two."

I grab my purse and head for the door.

"Emma?"

I turn back. Dominic is still standing by the table, hands in his pockets.

"Thank you. For doing this. I know it's not easy."

The words are so unexpected that I don't know how to respond.

"Your baby better be worth it," I say finally.

Something painful crosses his face. "I hope so too."

I leave before I can ask what he means.

The elevator ride down feels like falling. Forty floors of wondering what I've just done.

My phone buzzes. A text from Lily: "Dr. Martinez says I start treatment Monday! Emmy, you saved my life."

I lean against the elevator wall and close my eyes.

Worth it. This is worth it. Even if it destroys me in the process.

My phone rings. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Chen, this is Dr. Patel's office calling to confirm your appointment Wednesday at two PM."

"Yes, I'll be there."

"Excellent. Please plan for about two hours. We'll be doing comprehensive bloodwork, physical examination, and consultation about the surrogacy process."

"What should I bring?"

"Just yourself and any questions. Oh, and Mr. Westbrook mentioned you should bring someone for support if you'd like."

Support. Because I can't tell anyone the truth about what I'm doing.

"I'll be fine alone."

I hang up and walk slowly to my car. In a few weeks, I'll be pregnant. In nine months, I'll be giving birth. And then I'll walk away like none of it happened.

Simple. Clinical. Just like Dominic Westbrook promised.

Except nothing about this feels simple.

I'm unlocking my car when my phone rings again. This time it's Dominic.

"Did I forget something?"

"No, I just….." He pauses. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. You left quickly."

"I'm fine."

"Emma."

Something in the way he says my name makes me stop lying.

"I'm terrified," I admit. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes," he says quietly. "Because that means you understand what we're doing. That it matters."

"Of course it matters. It's a baby. A human life. How could it not matter?"

Silence. Then: "Wednesday. Two PM. My driver will pick you up at one-thirty."

"I can……"

"Please. Let me do this one thing."

I don't have the energy to argue. "Fine. One-thirty."

"Emma? For what it's worth, I'm terrified too."

He hangs up before I can respond.

I sat in my car for a long time, staring at my phone.

Dominic Westbrook is terrified. The cold, calculating billionaire who treats everything like a transaction is scared.

Somehow that makes this whole insane situation feel slightly more bearable.

Or maybe it just means we're both about to make the biggest mistake of our lives.

Either way, there's no turning back now.