CHAPTER 6

AVA

The drive felt like a blur as we wound through streets I didn’t recognize, heading deeper into an area of the city I’d never been to. When we finally arrived, the car pulled up to a massive, gleaming white building. It didn’t look like any hospital I’d ever seen—it was too clean, too polished, too... exclusive. A private entrance, guarded by security, greeted us as we passed through without even slowing down. My pulse quickened as we pulled up to a side entrance where two men in white coats waited.

As soon as I stepped out of the car, the doctors greeted Mr. Colton’s sister with a warmth that suggested they knew her well.

"Good afternoon, Miss Sinclair," one of them said with a polite nod. "Everything is prepared for you."

"Thank you, doctor," she replied smoothly. "Will everything be completed today?"

"Yes, Miss Sinclair," one of the doctors said. "Our team is ready, and we’ll have all the necessary tests and procedures done in a single day. You won’t need to worry about anything."

She nodded, satisfied. "Good to hear."

My heart raced. This was far from the standard medical experience. *Exclusive access to top medical teams*—that was the only way to describe it. Miss Sinclair was clearly a woman with powerful connections, and this hospital, or maybe it was an elite fertility clinic, catered to the wealthiest, offering concierge services where every specialist and test could be arranged and completed in a single day.

This wasn’t some public clinic where I’d be shuffled from department to department, waiting in line. No, this was for people like her and Mr. Colton. People who had the money and the influence to make the world move at their pace.

Before I could process it further, one of the doctors turned to me, motioning me forward. "Come with us, please."

I swallowed hard and followed them inside, my body tense with nerves. We entered a private room that looked like something out of a futuristic movie—full of advanced machines, monitors, and equipment I couldn’t even name. Everything about the room screamed luxury, precision, and efficiency.

The doctors wasted no time, already moving into position to begin whatever was coming next. I felt out of place, like I had somehow stepped into a world I wasn’t supposed to be a part of. A world of unimaginable wealth and privilege.

Miss Sinclair caught my eye and gave me a small nod as if to say this was normal. But nothing about this felt normal to me.

The room hummed with quiet efficiency as the doctors prepared for the tests. My heart was pounding in my chest, but I kept my face as neutral as I could, not wanting to seem overwhelmed by it all.

"Let’s start with the basics," one of the doctors said, his voice calm and professional. "We’ll need a full blood panel, a pelvic exam, and some ultrasounds to ensure everything is in optimal condition. After that, we’ll proceed with the more specific fertility-related tests."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. It all felt surreal. Was this really happening?

They guided me to a chair and gently but efficiently strapped on a tourniquet, preparing to draw my blood. I looked away as the needle pierced my skin, watching instead as the vials filled with dark red liquid. The doctor handling the blood samples moved with such precision, I could tell he’d done this a thousand times before. They labelled everything and handed it off to an assistant who whisked it away.

"Next, we’ll need to do an ultrasound," another doctor said, gesturing to a nearby table. "If you could change into the gown, please."

I took the flimsy piece of fabric and moved behind a screen to change. My hands shook slightly as I undressed, pulling on the gown that left me feeling vulnerable. When I emerged, they had already prepared the equipment. The ultrasound machine looked more advanced than any I’d seen before, the screen crystal clear as they applied the cold gel to my lower abdomen.

The ultrasound technician was a woman with soft hands and a gentle demeanour. "This might be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt," she said softly before beginning the scan. The sound of my own heartbeat filled my ears as I watched the screen, not entirely sure what I was looking at. They moved the wand methodically, taking detailed measurements of my uterus, ovaries, and other reproductive organs.

"Everything’s looking good so far," the technician murmured as she continued. "We’ll just take a few more images."

When that was done, I was led to a separate room for the pelvic exam. A different doctor, a tall man with graying hair, explained the procedure as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. I felt exposed, but I knew this was necessary. I needed to get through this.

He performed the exam quickly, his voice calm and clinical as he noted everything on his chart. “You seem to be in excellent health,” he commented after he was done. "The tests we’ve completed so far show no concerns."

I nodded, grateful for that at least. But it wasn’t over yet.

Next came a series of blood pressure checks, hormone level assessments, and even a psychological evaluation. They asked me questions about my mental health, my stress levels, and my history with anxiety or depression. It was clear that they wanted to ensure I was not just physically capable, but mentally prepared for what I was about to undertake.

"You’re doing well," one of the nurses said encouragingly. "We’ll just need to take some final hormone tests and then you’ll be ready for the last part of today’s procedures."

I blinked in surprise. The *last part*? How much more was there?

"We’re going to do a mock embryo transfer," the doctor explained. "It’s a routine step to make sure everything is functioning as it should for when we proceed with the real transfer later on."

A wave of nerves washed over me, but I managed to stay composed. They explained the process in detail as they prepped the room for the mock transfer. It involved inserting a small catheter into my uterus, similar to how the actual embryo transfer would happen. The goal was to ensure that my body was ready and receptive for the moment it mattered most.

The doctor inserted the catheter gently, guiding it with precision. I winced slightly, feeling the pressure but not much pain. Within minutes, it was over.

"Everything went smoothly," the doctor said, removing the catheter and stepping back. "You’re responding very well to the procedures. We’ll get the rest of your test results shortly.

Relief washed over me, though the tension still lingered in my body. All of this—the scans, the tests, the exams—it was so much to take in. I sat up slowly, pulling my gown tighter around me as I tried to process everything that had just happened.

Miss Sinclair had connections beyond anything I’d ever imagined. This was the world she lived in—exclusive access to top medical teams, where no expense was spared, no corner cut. Everything had been arranged to happen today, seamlessly, as though they were fitting me into some intricate puzzle they had been working on for months.

A nurse approached, handing me a clean towel to wipe the gel from the ultrasound off my abdomen. "You’re all done here," she said with a kind smile. You can get dressed now.

I nodded, feeling a little numb from the sheer pace of everything. The whirlwind of medical procedures had passed, but the enormity of what I was about to do lingered in the air.

As I was led out of the examination room and into a sleek office down the hall, I felt like I was walking in a daze. Everything had moved so quickly, and my mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of tests and procedures. The room was furnished with modern decor, and Miss Sinclair was already inside, sitting across from one of the doctors, deep in conversation. She looked up as I entered, her face breaking into a smile.

"Thank God, you're all good to go," she said, relief evident in her voice.

I forced a smile in return, though unease crept through me. Was I really *good to go*? My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of what was happening settling in more heavily by the second.

The doctor turned to me, nodding politely before addressing Miss Sinclair. "We’ll need her to return after 24 hours for the embryo transfer. Everything is progressing smoothly so far."

My stomach flipped, and a rush of fear shot through me. *Twenty-four hours?* I had thought it would take at least a week—maybe more—before they placed the embryo into me. But no, it was happening *tomorrow*. My pulse quickened, and for a moment, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This was what I wanted, right? To get paid, to escape my ex and finally move out of that suffocating house. But I hadn’t expected everything to move this fast.

Miss Sinclair thanked the doctor, standing up. I followed her out, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me as we walked back to the car. Once inside, I slumped into the seat, my mind spinning. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension, but Miss Sinclair seemed oblivious to it. She turned to me, her expression softening as she squeezed my hand gently.

"Thank you for doing this," she said quietly, her voice filled with gratitude. "I was a bit worried when I saw your bruised face earlier. I thought something might have happened, and you wouldn’t be able to go through with it."

Her words caught me off guard, and I blinked, looking down at our joined hands. The bruises—I had almost forgotten about them in the chaos of the day. But what happened to you? She asked. I knew this moment was coming, the inevitable question, and I had prepared my answer.

"I got into a fight with a friend," I lied, my voice steadier than I felt. "It was just a misunderstanding. We both... got a little carried away. My friend looks just like me now, so we're even." I tried to make it sound casual like it was no big deal.

Miss Sinclair frowned slightly, but she didn’t press further. "I see," she murmured. "I hope things are resolved between the two of you."

I nodded, grateful she didn’t pry. The last thing I wanted was to reveal the truth about my ex or the complicated, painful mess I was trying to leave behind. No one in this world—her world—would understand anyway. All I had to do was get through this, get paid, and disappear.

As the car pulled away from the hospital, the weight of tomorrow hung heavily in the air. I glanced out the window, watching the city blur past, and wondered if I had made the right choice after all.