Chapter 3: The Price of Silence

POV: Liora Hayes

I stared at the man named Xavier again.He looked like he had stepped right out of a luxury car commercial. Everything about him was perfect…perfectly groomed hair, sharp eyes, and a suit that probably cost more than my father’s life insurance payout. He was too clean for this place.

"A drive?" I repeated. My voice sounded hollow, like it was coming from a different room. I looked down at the red transfer notice. I was still clutching it so hard the edges were turning white. "My mother is being moved to a public ward in fifteen minutes. I don’t have time for a drive. I don’t have time for anything. I’m literally watching the clock kill her."

Xavier smiled. It was a professional smile. The kind you practice in a mirror. It didn't reach his eyes at all. "The transfer can be canceled with a single phone call, Miss Hayes. But we shouldn't talk here. It’s too loud. The cafeteria is quiet this time of morning. Let’s start there."

He didn't wait for me to say yes. He just turned and started walking. I stood there for a second, feeling small. But I had no choice. Desperate hope is a heavy thing. It makes you follow strangers. So, I followed him.

The hospital cafeteria was nearly empty. It was a depressing place. The air was thick with the smell of stale coffee and that industrial lemon cleaner that never quite hides the scent of old food. I sat across from him at a plastic table. My wet uniform felt gross against my skin. It was cold and sticky, making me shiver every few seconds.

"Who sent you?" I asked. I tried to sound tough, but I was shaking.

"A man who values privacy," Xavier said. He placed a leather briefcase on the table. It looked expensive. Everything he had was expensive. "He heard about your situation."

"Heard about it? How? I’m just a waitress. I'm nobody."

"Information is the most expensive currency in this city, Miss Hayes. And right now, you are very, very poor in everything else." He opened the briefcase.

I saw thick, cream-colored documents inside. They looked official. Heavy. "Before we discuss the 'solution,' I believe you have a few more calls to make. I’ll give you ten minutes. If you can find the fifty thousand dollars on your own, then we have nothing more to talk about. You can go back to your life."

He leaned back and checked his watch. It was a silver watch. It probably cost more than my mom’s surgery.

I felt a surge of anger. He was mocking me. But beneath the anger was the truth. He was right. I pulled out my cracked phone. I had to try one last time. Maybe someone would surprise me.

I called Maya. She had been my best friend since kindergarten. We used to share everything…clothes, secrets, dreams about being rich one day.

"Liora? Hey," Maya answered. She sounded breathless, like she was running. "I'm so sorry, I saw your texts. How’s your mom?"

"She’s bad, Maya. They're moving her to the public ward right now. Like, right now. I need fifty thousand dollars for the deposit. I know it’s a lot, I know. But if you could talk to your parents... or if you have anything left from your graduation money..."

There was a long silence. The kind of silence that tells you the answer before the person even speaks.

"Liora... fifty thousand? That's... that's a house deposit. My parents are still paying off their own medical bills from my dad's surgery last year. You know that. And I just spent my savings on that marketing seminar in Vegas. I’m literally broke until next month. I have, like, two hundred dollars."

"Maya, she’ll die in there. They don't have the monitors. Please."

"I'm so sorry, Liora. I really am. I have to go, my boss is looking at me. I'll pray for her, okay? Bye."

Click.

The word 'pray' felt like a slap in the face. Prayers didn't pay for surgery. Prayers didn't stop the orderlies from moving a dying woman to a crowded hallway.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. It felt like a stone. I called my Aunt Sarah. She was my mother’s only sister. Surely, she would help.

"Aunt Sarah? It’s Liora."

"I told you last week, Liora," her voice was sharp. Defensive. She didn't even let me say hello. "I don’t have any more money to give you. My husband’s business is struggling, and we have the kids’ tuition. We have our own lives to worry about."

"But Mom is being moved to the county hospital today. She won't survive the transition. The doctor said she needs the surgery today—"

"Then maybe it’s time to let her go," Sarah snapped. My breath hitched. "Keeping her alive on machines when you can't afford it is selfish, Liora. You’re just dragging out the pain. Don't call me again unless it's to tell me the funeral arrangements. It’s too much stress for me."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone screen. The crack in the glass looked like a spiderweb now. I felt a coldness in my chest. It wasn't the rain. It was the realization that the people who were supposed to love us were gone. They didn't want the burden.

I looked at my contact list. There were no more names. I had spent my life being the "good girl." I helped people. I worked hard. And now the world had collapsed, and I was standing in the middle of the rubble all by myself.

I put the phone on the table. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"No luck?" Xavier asked. His voice was quiet. Almost kind, but not quite.

I shook my head. I couldn't speak. If I opened my mouth, I’d just scream or cry, and I didn't want to do either in front of him.

"Then let’s talk about the $500,000," he said.

My head snapped up. "$500,000? For what? I’m a waitress. I don't have anything worth that much. You’ve seen me. I’m nothing."

"You have your health. You have your youth. And most importantly, you have a clean lineage. No genetic diseases, no history of addiction. You’re perfect," Xavier said. He leaned forward. "My employer is a very powerful man. He requires an heir. A child that is legally and biologically his, but born from a woman who is... uncomplicated. No baggage. No drama."

"A wife?" I whispered. The word felt heavy.

"A contract," he corrected. "A private, legally binding agreement. You give him nine months of your life and a healthy child. In exchange, your mother’s bills are paid in full. Today. Not just the deposit, but the surgery, the recovery, and a private room for as long as she needs it. No more red papers."

I felt sick. The cafeteria started to spin. "You want me to sell my baby?"

"He wants to buy his legacy," Xavier said. He sounded so cold. "The child will be a Volkov. They will want for nothing. They will have the best life possible. You, on the other hand, will receive five hundred thousand dollars once the child is delivered. Plus, all your expenses are paid while you're pregnant. You sign, and your mother stays in that bed. You walk away, and she is moved to the public ward in five minutes. It’s your choice."

He pushed a small tablet across the table. It showed a bank balance. It was an account in my name.

Balance: $12.43.

Twelve dollars and forty-three cents. That was it. That was the value of Liora Hayes.

"You have twelve dollars," Xavier said. He was reading my mind. "And you have twelve hours before your mother's condition becomes critical. The clock is ticking, Liora. Decisions don't get easier the longer you wait."

I looked out the window. A white transport ambulance for the public ward was pulling up. I saw two orderlies getting out. They were laughing about something. They were here to take my mother to the place where people go to die quietly.

In my head, I saw her face. I heard the whistle of the ventilator.

"Who is he?" I asked. My voice was trembling so hard I could barely get the words out.

"You’ll meet him soon enough," Xavier said. He stood up. He knew he had me. "But first, sign the preliminary consent. Let’s keep your mother in her room. Let's stop that ambulance."

I looked at the pen in his hand. It was silver and heavy. It felt like a weapon. If I took it, I wasn't a person anymore. I was a vessel. An object.

But if I didn't take it... I was a murderer. I was letting my mother die because of my pride.

I reached out. My fingers brushed the cold metal of the pen.

"I need to see the hospital receipt first," I said. My voice was suddenly hard. If I was going to be an object, I was going to be an expensive one. "I want to see the 'Paid in Full' status on her billing screen before I sign a single thing. I want proof."

Xavier’s eyes glinted. It might have been respect, or maybe he just liked that I was smart enough to negotiate.