The Truth Beneath

Mia stood in her apartment, staring at the note. Just a phone number and three words: "Call me. Please."

She should throw it away. She should ignore it. But curiosity made her dial the number.

A woman answered on the second ring. "Ms. Chen? My name is Eleanor Hartwell. I'm a private investigator. I need to speak with you about the Cross family."

Mia's stomach tightened. "How did you get this number?"

"That's not important. What's important is that you're about to make a serious decision, and you deserve all the information first."

Against her better judgment, Mia agreed to meet Eleanor at a coffee shop. When she arrived, an elegant woman in her sixties was waiting at a corner table with two cups of coffee already prepared.

Eleanor didn't waste time. She opened a manila folder and slid documents across the table.

"I've been investigating the Cross surrogacy arrangements," Eleanor said. "What I've found is concerning."

Mia picked up the first document. It was a medical record, heavily redacted but clearly showing genetic markers that didn't match Victoria's blood type.

"The genetic material they're using isn't Victoria's," Eleanor explained. "According to my sources, it hasn't been for years. Victoria Cross cannot conceive naturally. And Damien knows this."

"What do you mean?" Mia asked quietly.

"I mean the contract you're about to sign doesn't obligate you to carry their biological child," Eleanor said. "It obligates you to carry a child whose genetic origins are deliberately obscured. That vague clause about 'the nature and purpose of the genetic material that's intentional. They don't want you to know what you're carrying."

Mia felt her mouth go dry. "Why would they hide that?"

"Control," Eleanor said simply. "If they go through adoption agencies, there's scrutiny. But private surrogacy? Just a contract between consenting adults. No government oversight. No records."

She pulled out another document. It was a psychological evaluation. The patient name was redacted, but the diagnosis was clear: severe personality disorder with controlling traits. The physician's notes mentioned "potential danger to others."

"That evaluation was conducted on Damien Cross five years ago," Eleanor said. "I obtained it through sources I can't disclose. But Damien has a documented history of psychological issues and controlling behavior. And you're about to move into his house."

Mia pushed the documents away. "This could be fabricated. Someone could be trying to scare me."

"You're right," Eleanor acknowledged. "You have no reason to trust me. But ask questions before you sign. Talk to the other surrogates. Find out what happened to them."

"How would I do that?"

Eleanor wrote down an address on a napkin. "This is a law firm that's represented every surrogate the Crosses have worked with. The receptionist's name is Lisa Chen. She'll talk to you if you mention the Crosses. She's concerned about them too."

Mia looked at the address, then back at Eleanor. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I have a daughter," Eleanor said, her hands trembling. "She was a surrogate once for a family that seemed normal. Something went wrong afterward. Not with the pregnancy, but with what came after." Eleanor's voice dropped. "I can't talk about the details. Legal reasons. But I spent two years fighting to get her back."

She stood up. "Whatever you decide, don't sign anything without reading every word. And don't move into that house without knowing exactly what you're agreeing to."

She left before Mia could ask anything else.

That evening, Mia called the law firm. Lisa agreed to meet her the next day during lunch.

The office was modest, tucked between a dentist's office and a tax service. Lisa was younger than Mia expected, maybe twenty-five, with sharp eyes and a guarded expression.

"You're considering the Crosses," Lisa said. It wasn't a question.

"How did you know?"

"Because Eleanor calls every time someone new is in their pipeline. I recognize the look on your face. I've seen it on the faces of the last three women who came through that door."

Lisa glanced toward the back office, then lowered her voice. "I can't tell you much. Confidentiality agreements. But I can tell you that the surrogacy contracts the Crosses use are different. The control clauses are extensive. They retain the right to make medical decisions, to restrict your movement, to monitor your health constantly. And once the baby is born..."

She trailed off.

"What?" Mia pressed.

"The contracts include provisions for extended post-natal care," Lisa said carefully. "The surrogates are required to remain in the Cross household for six weeks after delivery. No travel. No outside visitors without approval. Complete monitoring."

"That's not unusual," Mia said.

"For six weeks continuously? In their house? With no contact with the outside world?" Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Every single surrogate who came before you eventually left. They all signed NDAs. And every single one of them looked haunted when they did."

Mia felt her chest tighten. "What happened to them?"

"I don't know," Lisa said quietly. "But something did. Something bad enough that they were willing to sign away their right to speak about it in exchange for money and silence."

That night, Mia couldn't sleep. She sat at her kitchen table with the contract spread out, reading the post-natal care clause over and over.

"The Surrogate agrees to remain available for comprehensive post-natal monitoring for a period of up to six weeks following delivery, during which time the Surrogate will reside at the Cross family residence."

Optimal health outcomes. Maternal stability. It sounded reasonable. But underneath those words, she could feel something else. Control. A cage dressed up in medical language.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Victoria: "Damien is so excited to meet you formally on Monday. He's arranged for you to have a complete medical evaluation before you move in. We want you completely comfortable."

A complete medical evaluation. They'd know everything about her. Her health history. Her weaknesses. Her vulnerabilities.

Mia made a decision. She would cancel. She would tell them she'd changed her mind. She would find another way to pay for Danny's surgery.

She reached for her phone when it rang. Unknown number.

She answered. Damien's voice was cold and precise.

"I'm aware you've been making inquiries about our previous arrangements. Eleanor Hartwell. Lisa Chen. These people don't understand our family. They have agendas that don't align with ours."

Mia's blood turned to ice. "How did you?"

"You're going to be here Monday at two PM," Damien interrupted. Not a request. A statement. "You're going to move into our home the following week. And you're going to do exactly as Victoria and I ask. Because people who break commitments to us tend to find their lives become very complicated."

The line went dead.

Mia sat in the darkness, her heart pounding. She was trapped. Not by the contract, not yet. But by circumstances. By a brother who needed her. By a man who had just made it clear that walking away would have consequences she couldn't afford.

On Monday morning, Mia drove to the Cross mansion for her second visit, knowing that this time, she wouldn't be leaving the same way she came in.