Chapter 16 - Evelyn Cornered

Evelyn's POV

Evelyn Carter pressed her hands against the counter of the diner, staring down at the chipped laminate as if it could swallow her whole. The lunch rush had ended hours ago, but her nerves hadn’t quieted. They never did anymore.

The bell over the door jingled, and her stomach twisted before she even looked up.

It wasn’t a customer. It was him again.

The debt collector.

He filled the doorway with broad shoulders and a facial expression that made her skin crawl. Two others trailed behind him, one cracking his knuckles, the other chewing gum loudly as though boredom was the only thing keeping him alive.

Carmen froze mid-wipe with a rag over one of the booths, her dark eyes darting to Evelyn. Not again.

“Well, well,” the collector drawled, walking toward her with deliberate slowness. “Miss Carter. Don’t tell me you forgot about us.”

Evelyn forced her voice steady. “I told you—I just need more time.”

“You’ve been saying that for months.” He leaned against the counter, close enough that Evelyn could smell the stale tobacco clinging to his jacket. “Time’s up.”

Her throat tightened. She thought of her parents, the crushing debts they’d left behind, the letters piling up like vultures on her doorstep. She thought of the agency brochure folded in her purse, like a poisonous cure.

Carmen stepped forward, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hey, this is a diner, not your office. Back off.”

The man’s gaze slid to Carmen, cold and amused. “Cute. But unless you’ve got twenty grand tucked in that apron, stay out of this.”

Evelyn’s heart hammered so loudly she could barely hear herself speak. “Please. I’m trying. I’ve picked up extra shifts—”

“Shifts won’t cover interest.” His voice dropped, sharp as a blade. “People like you don’t dig themselves out. You just… get buried.”

The words hit her like a slap. Her knees wobbled.

The second man cracked his knuckles again, loud in the empty diner. “Maybe she needs incentive.”

Carmen stiffened. “Touch her and I’ll call the cops.”

For a long moment, the tension pressed down like a weight. Then the collector smiled, slow and cruel. “Relax. We’re not unreasonable. You’ve got… What, a week? After that, sweetheart, we stop being polite.”

They left with the bell jangling cheerfully behind them, as though nothing had happened.

Evelyn crashed against the counter, trembling.

“Evelyn,” Carmen whispered, rushing to her side. “You can’t keep living like this. They’re going to hurt you.”

“I just…” Evelyn’s breath hitched. “I don’t have any other choice.”

“Yes, you do.” Carmen grabbed her purse and yanked out the folded agency flyer. “This. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than being crushed. Better than ending up in a hospital because some thug decided to make an example of you.”

Evelyn stared at the paper. The clean logo. The neat print promising safety, security, compensation. She hated that it looked like hope.

She whispered, “It feels wrong.”

“What’s wrong is you dying under debt that isn’t even yours.” Carmen’s voice softened, pleading now. “You’re young, you’re healthy, you’re smart. You could walk away from all of this if you just… took the step. No one even has to know.”

Evelyn’s fingers clenched around the flyer.

Across the street, through the wide diner windows, a man in a dark coat adjusted his camera lens, snapping photo after photo. Gregory Blackwood’s investigator had a perfect angle. He’d caught everything — the confrontation, Evelyn’s trembling, the way Carmen shoved the agency flyer into her hand.

He lowered the camera, pulling out his phone. “She’s close,” he murmured into the receiver. “She’ll fold soon.”

On the other end, Gregory’s voice was cool and pleased. “Good. You guys shouldn't lose her.”

That night, Evelyn sat in her cramped apartment, lights dim, the city noise bleeding through the cracked window. Bills spread across the table like vultures, red-stamped FINAL NOTICE glaring at her from every page.

She pressed her forehead to her hands, whispering, “I can’t do this anymore.”

The knock startled her. Sharp, impatient.

She opened the door to find Carmen holding two paper cups of coffee and a bag of takeout. “Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten.”

Evelyn tried to smile, but it came out crooked. “Not really hungry.”

“Tough.” Carmen marched in, setting everything down with theatrical force. “Drink the coffee, eat the food, and sign the damn papers.”

Evelyn blinked. “Carmen—”

Her friend cut her off. “Look at me. You deserve better than this life. You deserve a chance to breathe. And maybe this isn’t forever. Maybe it’s just… the bridge to something better.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and raw. Evelyn’s chest ached with the truth of it.

Finally, with trembling hands, she pulled the agency application from her purse. Her pen hovered, the tip staining the paper with a tiny dot of ink.

Her parents’ debt. The collectors. The gnawing fear.

Her hand shook as she signed her name.

The next morning, Evelyn walked into the agency’s sleek lobby, her nerves so raw she felt hollow. The receptionist smiled warmly, as if this were any ordinary appointment, as if Evelyn weren’t selling pieces of herself just to survive.

“Hello, how can we help you", the coordinator asked with a heart warming smile.

Evelyn responded “I'm signing up to be a surrogate".

She followed the coordinator into a glass-walled office, answering questions about her health, her history, her family. Every answer felt like another brick sealing her fate.

“Wonderful,” the woman said, flipping through the forms. “You’re a perfect candidate.”

Evelyn tried to smile, but her chest tightened. “So what happens now?”

“Now,” the coordinator said smoothly, “we match you with a client.”

Her pen scratched one final signature across the contract.

It was done.

Leaving the agency, the sunlight felt too bright. Evelyn pulled her coat tighter, hurrying down the steps — and froze.

Across the street, an older man in an immaculate suit leaned against a car. He wasn’t looking at her directly, but she felt the weight of his gaze.

The man tipped his head faintly, almost like a predator acknowledging its prey. Then he stepped into the waiting car, the door closing behind him with a muffled thud.

Evelyn’s heart hammered.

She had no idea who he was, no idea that her life had just collided with someone's plans.

But deep down, she felt it.

Something had shifted.

Something irreversible.

That night, Gregory sat in his study, sipping brandy as his investigators laid the photos across his desk. Explaining how they had followed her secretly and saw her entering the agency.

Gregory’s lips curled in satisfaction. “Excellent. She’s the one.”

Investigator 1 hesitated. “Sir… are you sure? She looks… ordinary.”

Gregory’s eyes flashed. “Ordinary is exactly what Damian needs. No attachments. No complications. Just an heir.”

He lifted a photo of Evelyn, studying the nervous determination in her eyes. “She’ll do nicely.”

Evelyn lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, Carmen asleep on the couch after insisting on staying over.

She pressed a hand to her chest, whispering into the dark. “What have I done?”

The city hummed outside, restless and merciless.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

With shaky hands, she picked it up.

“Welcome, Miss Carter,” the message read. “Your first appointment has been scheduled. Please prepare to meet your intended parent.”

She scrolled down, her breath catching.

The name glared back at her like fate itself:

Damian Blackwood.

Her phone slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor.

The room spun around her, Carmen still snoring softly in the other room, oblivious.

Evelyn pressed her palms into her eyes, tears spilling.

She had no idea what kind of man awaited her.

No idea that she had just stepped into a world built on power, control, and betrayal.

But she was already caught.

The screen of Evelyn’s phone still glowed on the floor, Damian’s name burning bright.