Chapter 2   Seventy-Two Hours

Two weeks after the injection I sat on the edge of a hospital bed that was too soft and stared at the positive result in the nurse’s hand.

“It’s confirmed,” she said. “You’re pregnant.”

I nodded once. My fingers curled into the sheet. Relief hit first, sharp and quick. Then the other feeling followed, heavier, and settled in my chest.

“When do I get the first payment?” I asked.

“Today. The transfer is already processing. You’ll see it by this afternoon.”

“And the housing?”

“A private suite is ready. We’ll move you this afternoon. Everything is covered.”

I looked at the floor. “Can I call my brother?”

“Of course. Just keep the details limited. That’s part of the agreement.”

They gave me a phone. I stepped into the small bathroom and dialed David.

“Hey,” I said when he answered.

“You okay? You didn’t come home.”

“I found temporary work. It includes housing. I’ll be gone for a while.”

“What kind of work?”

“The kind that pays well and needs me on site. Don’t worry. The rent is handled. The bills too.”

“Jennifer.”

“I’m fine, David. Eat something proper tonight. I’ll check in when I can.”

“You sound different.”

“I’m just tired. That’s all. Eat. Sleep. Don’t skip classes if you can help it.”

“There isn’t much food left.”

“There will be. I already sent money. Check the account later.”

“Okay. Call me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

I hung up before he could push harder. My hands were steady but my stomach was not. I stared at the phone screen until it went dark.

The suite was on a high floor. White walls. Wide windows. A kitchen that looked unused. A nurse named Carla showed me around with a practiced smile that never reached her eyes.

“Kitchen is stocked. Living area. Bedroom. Bathroom. Call button by the bed if you need anything.”

“How long do I stay here?”

“Until the client says otherwise. Daily checks. Blood work. Scans. You’ll get a schedule every morning.”

I set my small bag on the chair. “Who is the client?”

Carla’s face stayed blank. “I’m not authorized to say.”

“Someone has to know.”

“The agency handles that. My job is your health.”

I walked to the window. The city looked far away. “A nurse downstairs mentioned daily updates for the client.”

Carla paused with her hand on the counter. “That’s standard.”

“What kind of updates?”

“Progress. Vitals. Anything relevant to the pregnancy.”

“And they still won’t tell me a name?”

“No.”

I turned around. “I signed a contract. I have a right to know who I’m carrying this for.”

“You signed for anonymity. That’s what you get.”

“Anonymity goes both ways. I want a name.”

“I can’t give you one.”

“Then get someone who can.”

Carla left without another word. I sat on the couch and stared at the blank television. My knee kept bouncing. The first payment notification came through on the phone they gave me. The number was real. I transferred enough to cover David’s next bill and the last of the old rent. Then I put the phone face down and tried not to think about the rest of the money or what it had cost.

Later that afternoon another nurse came for blood work. She was quieter than Carla and carried a small tray of vials.

“Any nausea yet?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Fatigue?”

“Some. Mostly at night.”

“We’ll monitor that. Blood pressure next.”

I watched her label the vials. “The client gets these results too?”

“Yes.”

“Still no name?”

She didn’t answer. She just finished wrapping the last tube and left with a short nod.

I tried calling the agency number on the card Patricia had given me. A calm voice answered on the second ring.

“This is Jennifer Cole. I want the client’s name.”

“That information is protected under the contract, Ms. Cole.”

“I already signed. I’m pregnant. I deserve to know.”

“The terms are clear. Anonymity holds until the client chooses otherwise.”

“And if I refuse the next test?”

“That would violate the agreement. I don’t recommend it.”

“What happens if I just walk out?”

“The contract is binding. Security would be notified. Your payments would stop.”

I hung up harder than I meant to. My hands were shaking now. I walked the length of the suite three times. The call button by the bed stayed dark. No one came unless I pressed it, and I didn’t want to press it.

Evening came. The city lights turned on below. I heated something from the fridge and ate standing at the counter. The food had no taste. I kept checking the phone even though David had already texted that the money arrived. He asked again what the job was. I typed three different replies and deleted all of them.

A soft knock came at the door. Carla stepped in holding a sealed envelope.

“This just arrived for you.”

I took it. My name was printed on the front in clean black letters. No return address.

“Who sent it?”

“I don’t know. It came through the agency.”

I opened it. One sheet of paper. One line of text.

Prepare for a formal introduction in seventy-two hours.

I read it twice. Carla waited by the door with her hands folded.

“What does this mean?” I asked.

“It means the client is ready to meet you.”

“I thought there was no contact.”

“The contract allows for a formal introduction if the client requests it. That’s all I know.”

“Where?”

“They’ll send a car. You’ll be told the rest closer to the time.”

I held the paper tighter. “Still no name?”

Carla shook her head. “I’m sorry. I truly don’t have it.”

“Can I refuse the meeting?”

“That would also violate the agreement. I wouldn’t advise it.”

She left. The door clicked shut behind her. I stood in the middle of the suite with the envelope in one hand and the single line of text in the other. Seventy-two hours. A formal introduction. The client who already owned every update about the pregnancy growing inside me.

I sat down hard on the couch. The paper crumpled a little under my fingers. Outside the window the city kept moving like nothing had changed. Inside the suite everything had.

I looked at the closed door and waited for the next seventy-two hours to start counting down.