Chapter 3

Louisa's point of view

This is silly.

I took in my surroundings again. Apparently I wasn't the only one who'd seen the poster offering five million dollars for a surrogate mother.

Normally I would never have taken on a "business" opportunity like this. I'd always planned on taking care of and raising my own child, if I ever had one.

So far seventeen people had gone before me, and they all looked... healthier than I did. All the girls were plump, fresh, and extremely beautiful, while I looked like I hadn't slept in three days — because I hadn't.

"Miss Hartford?" A soft voice belonging to a petite, perfectly tanned nurse called out. She looked younger than me and somehow had things going better in her life. "You're up."

I nodded at her, gathered my mini purse, and took a deep breath before walking in.

The office I entered was dimly lit. Three men occupied it. One had his back to me, one sat rigidly on a chair by the wall, and the third — a doctor, based on his coat and stethoscope — stood beside the exam table.

"Name?" the doctor said, looking through the file resting on the bed.

"Louisa Hartford." My voice sounded smaller than I intended, weighted down by the knowledge that if I didn't get this offer, I'd have no other hope. Everything would be ruined.

"Okay, Miss Louisa." He pulled out a file — my previously submitted medical records. "I see here you haven't had a hospital checkup in the last three years. Why's that?"

"I haven't felt sick." I couldn't afford to be.

"So you haven't used any medications in the last three years?" He didn't believe that.

"Yes, doctor. My family's quite traditional. My father believes in herbs and the like, and I guess I got used to it." Even though I hadn't seen my dad in seventeen years.

"You're twenty-five. A very sexually active year, are you on birth control?"

"No, I'm not. The side effects feel like an undeserved punishment, especially since I don't have a very active sex life." Also that I couldn't afford them.

"And why is that?"

I forced a smile, trying to hide the blush creeping in. "I've been very busy."

God. When did I become such a liar.

"What work do you do?" the stiff man asked.

Finally, something I could answer truthfully. "I work as a social media marketer for a small firm."

He looked me over from top to bottom, taking in every inch of me. "And that pays for diamonds?"

I instinctively covered the bracelet on my left wrist. It was the only thing I'd kept from a lifetime where Dad was still with us and I didn't have to worry about money — having sold everything else for survival.

"It was a gift from my dad, since I was a kid. He isn't with us anymore. Neither is his wealth." The man nodded and went back to looking at his computer.

"Your blood type is quite rare," the doctor declared. I nodded.

It was only because of my rare blood type that I'd made it through college — selling my blood, and occasionally my eggs, was a go-to move.

Pathetic.

The two men looked at each other. "Sit."

I remained quietly seated there for over thirty minutes, longer than the others had spent in there.

Good sign?

The man directly opposite where I sat hadn't turned around since I'd come in, and I couldn't help but wonder who he was.

He looked familiar.

"She's all clean, sir. A perfect match." Of course I was clean — what sort of idiot leaves dirty tracks of their life to be found by some stranger.

"Her medical records are solid too."

I heard the rhythmic tapping of his fingers before he turned around to show his face.

Holy shit.

"This bitch."

Yes. I'm fucked.

"Out!"