Chapter Two: The Proposal

The silence stretched between them like a live wire.

Amira stared at the open contract on the glass table. Her fingers twitched, tempted to slam it shut—tempted to grab it and run.

Dominic Voss hadn’t moved.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t just offered to buy nine months of her life and everything that came with it.

“You’re quiet,” he said without turning. “That worries me.”

Amira crossed her arms. “You just offered me two million dollars to carry your child, and you’re surprised I need a moment?”

“Most people don’t think in moments. They think in fear.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“No,” he said, finally facing her. “You’re afraid of yourself. Of what you’ll do if you say yes.”

Amira’s throat tightened. “You’re very sure I’ll say yes.”

“I’m not interested in women who don’t. You’re here because you already knew what your answer might be.”

She sat down slowly, eyes flicking to the sleek contract.

“Tell me everything,” she said. “All of it. No games.”

Dominic’s lips lifted faintly. He approached with the kind of ease that made her stomach twist — too smooth, too used to getting his way.

“The contract is standard surrogacy protocol with… specialized clauses,” he began, sliding into the leather chair across from her. “You will undergo embryo transfer. No intercourse with any partners from the time of implantation until post-delivery. No alcohol. No travel without approval. Full monitoring by my medical team.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Monitoring?”

“Regular check-ins. Diet restrictions. Vitamins. Wellness assessments. You’ll be cared for by the best.”

“And what if I want out halfway through?”

“You can’t. Not without consequences.”

Her spine straightened. “That sounds like a trap.”

He didn’t blink. “It is.”

She laughed again—sharp, disbelieving. “You just admitted it?”

“I find that honesty saves time.”

Amira shook her head, disoriented. “Do you even hear yourself?”

Dominic leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think this is black and white. It’s not. I’m not asking you to carry some stranger’s child in secret. This is my legacy. My only chance at an heir.”

She frowned. “You don’t have family?”

“My family is dead. Or unfit. Or bought their way out of my life.”

“And what about the mother? The… the donor?”

He looked out the window. “Anonymous. Chosen for compatibility, IQ, clean history. You don’t need to worry about her.”

“How convenient.”

Dominic turned back to her, voice lower now. “You were pre-screened, Amira. Your records flagged you as ideal—healthy, high empathy, disciplined. We’ve been watching you for months.”

Amira recoiled. “You’ve been watching me?”

“My legal team ran evaluations. Psychological profiles. Financial risk assessments. Your file was exceptional.”

“I’m not a product,” she snapped.

“No. You’re a possibility.”

She stood, heat flooding her cheeks. “This is insane. You don’t get to play god because you’re rich and broken.”

His eyes didn’t flicker. “I never claimed to be god. Just a man with means.”

“And a heart made of concrete.”

He rose too, slowly, deliberately. “You can walk out that door, Amira. You’re free to go. But don’t pretend like the world out there has anything waiting for you. They’ll bury you in debt. Your sister will die waiting for a transplant. You’ll scrape by until there’s nothing left of you.”

Her voice cracked. “And you think you’re offering me salvation?”

“I’m offering you options.”

There was a beat of silence so still, it buzzed.

She reached for the contract and opened it again. Page after page of clinical, cruel legality. Then her eyes caught it—one handwritten clause on the final page.

“The surrogate shall reside at the Voss estate for the duration of the pregnancy.”

Her stomach dropped.

“Why here?” she asked slowly. “Why do I have to live here?”

“Because I want control over what’s mine,” he said plainly.

“I’m not yours.”

Dominic’s jaw tensed. “Not yet.”

She felt her pulse flutter like a warning.

“And after the baby’s born?”

“You’ll disappear. Quietly. Handsomely compensated.”

“And the baby?”

“He stays with me. Permanently. No visitation. No future claims. The contract makes that very clear.”

She exhaled hard, mouth dry. “So I just… walk away?”

“Like it never happened.”

“No baby. No photos. No name. Nothing?”

“Nothing but a bank account that changes your entire life.”

She pressed her hands to her face, trying to breathe. Her mind screamed get out, but her heart whispered what if. What if Zoe could get the transplant? What if they could finally be free?

He watched her, eyes unreadable. “Would you like to see her medical file?”

Her head jerked up. “What?”

“Your sister. Zoe. My team pulled her chart.”

“You accessed her records? That’s illegal!”

“Don’t insult me, Amira. Everything I do is legal. Or made legal.”

She stared at him, shaken. “You’re terrifying.”

“And yet you’re still standing here.”

He moved to a drawer and pulled out a tablet. With a few taps, her sister’s medical chart filled the screen—blood pressure logs, renal scans, prescription history. Amira’s breath caught.

“Your insurance stops next month,” Dominic said quietly. “The hospital already submitted your termination. That means no dialysis, no coverage, no hope.”

She stared down at Zoe’s numbers. Her creatinine levels were critical.

“I could save her,” he said. “But only if you help me first.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

“You’re a monster,” she whispered.

“And you’re the one standing here considering my offer,” he replied.

She clutched the tablet like it was burning her skin. “I need a night to think.”

“No.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

Dominic stepped forward. “If you walk out now, the offer expires. I don’t want someone who hesitates. I want someone decisive.”

“This isn’t a business deal—this is my body.”

“And it’s your choice. But it’s one you make now.”

Amira stared at the pen beside the folder. Her heart hammered. This was wrong. Immoral. Dangerous. But it was also her last chance.

She reached out—and signed.

One stroke. Then another. Then silence.

Dominic picked up the folder, slid it closed, and nodded once to someone behind the wall.

A soft chime. A hidden door opened. A woman in a white coat stepped out.

“Dr. Isaacs,” he said smoothly. “Begin the pre-screening. She’s staying.”

Amira’s breath hitched.

The door clicked shut behind her.

She had just sold her future—and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get it back.