Chapter 6

Abigail stood in front of the bathroom sink at the restaurant where she and Lily had agreed to meet. Exhaustion mingled with nervousness was plain on her face. She splashed cold water over her face, then pinched her cheeks to bring some color back into them and lessen their pallor. From her worn-out bag, she pulled out a piece of cheap chocolate and popped it into her mouth. People might have assumed that Abigail ate chocolate whenever she was nervous, but the truth was that she ate it to raise her dangerously low blood sugar.

Abigail checked her old phone again. So far, there had been no messages or calls from the hospital, which meant Amora was still doing fine. Taking a deep breath, Abigail tried to gather whatever courage she had left.

The corridor connecting the bathroom to the main dining area was long and quiet. Whether Abigail was too distracted to notice her surroundings or Mark was hurrying back after answering an important phone call, neither of them saw the other until they collided at the narrow bend in the hallway.

The impact was hard enough that Mark instinctively wrapped an arm around Abigail's waist, while Abigail grabbed the lapel of his suit jacket tightly to keep herself from falling.

“S-sorry, Mr. Harrison. I didn't realize you were—”

Abigail quickly let go at the same moment Mark abruptly released his hold. Losing her balance, Abigail stumbled backward and hit the wall. She suppressed a soft wince before hurriedly straightening herself and smoothing down her disheveled clothes, her nervousness making her movements clumsy.

Meanwhile, Mark was frozen, his mind suddenly consumed by something else.

When his hand had unconsciously wrapped around Abigail's waist and his nose had briefly brushed against a strand of her hair, a hazy memory from the past suddenly came rushing back.

A dimly lit room. A petite yet curvaceous figure, her body soft in all the right places. Smooth skin carrying a delicate scent that might have come from soap or lotion, and long, silky hair that smelled faintly of peaches, mingling with the heavy scent of alcohol.

A voice filled with pain, followed by breathless sighs and moans.

All of it crashed into Mark's mind at once.

Abigail, panicking, tried to step to the left to get out of his way, but Mark instinctively moved in the same direction. Abigail looked up at him uncertainly, silently wondering who should move first. Instead of an answer, she was met with Mark’s sharp, intimidating stare. The moment he shifted his broad frame to the side, Abigail hurried past him, nearly breaking into a run.

Seeing Abigail hurry away, Mark was once again reminded of the memory of a woman’s long, bare legs as she had hurried away from the bed while he was still only half-conscious.

Damn it! Why do I have to remember that night tonight?

For several months after that night, Mark remained on edge, constantly expecting someone to show up and demand that he take responsibility for what had happened. It wasn’t only because he was convinced he had been the first man to take that woman’s innocence, but also because he feared she might use what happened between them to trap him, simply because he was the sole heir to Harrison Corp.

But the woman never appeared.

Eventually, Mark came to the conclusion that, for both of them, that night had been nothing more than a passionate one-night stand.

Abigail entered the room Lily had rented for her, rubbing both arms as though trying to shake off the lingering chill. She couldn't understand why Mark always looked at her with such disgust whenever they crossed paths, as though she were some kind of pest he couldn't wait to get rid of.

Did I offend him somehow without realizing it?

“Miss Spencer?”

A slightly heavyset, middle-aged man wearing glasses greeted her as the door opened. His voice was friendly, but his assessing gaze made Abigail feel as though he were silently evaluating her.

“Charles Walker. I'm the Harrison family's attorney.”

Abigail had assumed that since she'd already run into Mark, Lily must be here as well. But apparently, her best friend hadn't arrived yet.

“Abigail Spencer,” she replied nervously.

Her cold hand briefly met his in a handshake.

“Please, have a seat.” Charles gestured toward the chair across from him.

Abigail nodded and sat directly opposite the lawyer, leaving one empty chair on either side of her.

“Here is the contract prepared by the Harrisons. Please read it carefully and let me know if there’s anything you’d like to add.”

Charles handed her an elegant black leather folder.

Abigail accepted it with trembling fingers.

She began reading through the contract clause by clause. Everything was laid out clearly and systematically. Even though she had no legal background, Abigail could easily understand her rights and obligations.

The contract officially designated Abigail as a gestational surrogate. She would carry the Harrisons’ child through in vitro fertilization (IVF) and embryo transfer, with the embryo created from the intended parents’ genetic material and transferred into her uterus. Throughout the pregnancy and until childbirth, all of her living expenses would be covered by the Harrison family.  It also stated that Abigail would stay in a residence chosen by the Harrisons so they could monitor her whenever necessary.

The heavy hinges of the door creaked as it opened, making Abigail start.

Mark Harrison and Lily had finally joined them at the main table.

“Lily…” Abigail instinctively rose to her feet. She was about to approach her, wanting to thank her personally for transferring the money needed for Amora’s lifesaving surgery.

But the cold, unmistakably rejecting aura radiating from Mark’s face brought her to an abrupt halt.

Once again, Mark looked Abigail over with open scrutiny.

In fact, he had arrived half an hour earlier and had been in a meeting with another client, which was why he had accidentally crossed paths with Abigail in the hallway.

“Miss Spencer is reviewing the contract, Mr. Harrison,” Charles Walker informed him.

Mark took the seat across from Abigail, while Lily sat beside him and offered Abigail an awkward smile in greeting.

Mark still couldn’t understand why Lily had chosen someone like Abigail to carry their child. A single mother who didn’t even know who the father of her own child was—and now, she was renting out her womb for money.

To Mark, it only reinforced his belief that his wife’s friend was willing to do anything for money, while Lily was simply too kind to realize that she was being taken advantage of.

The vibration of a phone on the table shattered the heavy silence in the room. Mark glanced at Abigail’s old phone as the screen lit up, and his eyes inadvertently caught the wallpaper—a photo of Abigail with a little girl who was beaming as she pressed her cheek against her mother’s.

For several seconds, Mark’s gaze remained fixed on the screen.

So that’s her daughter?

Mark tore his eyes away from the phone and looked straight at Abigail.

“Miss Abigail Spencer?”

The deep, cold voice made Abigail look up from the document she was studying. There was so much hostility in his tone that Abigail couldn't understand where it was coming from. The fine hairs along her body suddenly prickled beneath his icy stare and the sharpness of his voice.

“Are you certain you want to become our surrogate?”

Weren’t they the ones who pressured me into becoming their surrogate? Then why does he look as though he hates me? Abigail thought, wincing inwardly.

She nodded slowly. Her uncertainty was growing by the second, but she knew there was no turning back now.

“You don't have any genetic disorders, do you?” Mark asked, his tone still probing.

Abigail glanced at Lily, who remained seated faithfully beside Mark. For all she knew, Lily might even be holding her husband’s hand beneath the table. Abigail had no way of knowing.

“I’m quite certain I don't, sir,” Abigail answered plainly.

“Even so, I don't want there to be any mistakes. You need to undergo a thorough medical examination. Walker, arrange it and make sure she’s completely ‘clean,’” Mark ordered, never once taking his sharp gaze off Abigail.

The word clean sounded deeply insulting, but Abigail swallowed her pride and remained silent.

“Yes, sir,” Walker replied obediently.

“This is purely a transaction, so don't ever expect anything more,” Mark continued coldly. “And don't think about using the child you give birth to as leverage to extort us in the future. Once this contract is signed, your only concern is carrying my child. You will stop communicating with outsiders and avoid doing anything that might arouse suspicion or make people question who the child’s father is.”

Mark straightened his expensive suit jacket.

“And after the baby is born, you and everyone in your family must leave this city and go as far away as possible. From that point on, you are never to contact my wife again.”

Abigail looked at Lily. At the same time, Lily lifted her gaze to her husband, her eyes filled with emotion.

Is that what love looks like? Abigail thought bitterly.

Mark loved and protected his wife so fiercely that he was willing to be this cruel, all to ensure Lily’s safety and happiness.

“Do you understand what I mean?” Mark asked, turning his attention back to Abigail, his gaze locking onto hers with unwavering firmness.