The Price of a Soul

​The sound of rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling glass of the penthouse office was the only thing keeping me grounded. It was a violent storm, but it was nothing compared to the hurricane raging inside my chest.

​"Read it again, Ms. Davis. I don’t pay for mistakes."

​Liam Sterling’s voice was low, smooth, and terrified me more than the thunder. He stood by the window, his back to me, looking out over the city of New York like a king surveying a kingdom he wanted to burn down. Even from the back, he was intimidating—broad shoulders encased in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my grandmother’s entire house.

​I looked down at the document on the mahogany desk. The paper was heavy, expensive, and cold under my fingertips.

​SURROGACY AND PARENTAL RIGHTS RELINQUISHMENT AGREEMENT.

​The bold letters seemed to scream at me.

​"I’ve read it, Mr. Sterling," I said, my voice barely rising above a whisper. I hated how weak I sounded. I hated that my hands were trembling so badly I had to clasp them in my lap to hide it.

​He finally turned around.

​If the devil had a face, it would be Liam Sterling’s. He was devastatingly handsome, with sharp, aristocratic cheekbones and eyes the color of shattered ice. But there was no warmth in him. No humanity. He looked at me not as a woman, or even a human being, but as an incubator. A vessel he had rented for nine months because he couldn't be bothered to find a wife.

​He walked toward the desk, his movements predatory and graceful. The scent of expensive sandalwood and rain filled my senses, making me dizzy.

​"Then you understand Clause 14?" he asked, tapping a manicured finger against the paper. "Once the child is born, you will be compensated. You will hand the infant to my medical team. And then, you will vanish."

​He leaned in, his icy blue eyes boring into mine. "You will not visit. You will not call. You will not look for pictures in the tabloids. To this child, you are dead. Do you understand?"

​I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting the urge to vomit. Dead.

​"I understand," I choked out.

​"Good." He straightened up, adjusting his cufflinks with indifference. "Because if you ever try to claim him, if you ever try to squeeze more money out of me using the press... I will bury you. I have lawyers who can ensure you never work again. I have the power to make sure your sick grandmother is thrown out of that hospital before her next breath."

​My head snapped up. "You promised to pay her bills."

​"I promised to pay them if you sign," he corrected coldly. "And if you adhere to the contract. The moment you become a liability, the funding stops."

​The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

​I thought of Nana. I thought of the beeping machines, the sterile smell of the ICU, the doctor telling me that without the surgery, she wouldn't last the month. She was the only family I had left in this cruel world. She was the one who held me when my parents died. I couldn't let her die. Not when I had a way to save her.

​Even if that way meant selling a piece of my soul.

​I picked up the pen. It felt like holding a knife.

​My other hand drifted instinctively to my stomach. I was barely showing, just a small, firm swell beneath my thrift-store dress, but I felt them. A flutter. A tiny, secret movement that sent a shockwave of electricity through my veins.

​I’m sorry, I thought desperately, directing the words inward to the life growing inside me. I’m so sorry. I have to do this.

​I pressed the pen to the paper. The ink flowed dark and permanent.

​Nora Davis.

​It was done. I had just sold my baby.

​Liam didn't smile. He didn't look relieved. He simply pressed a button on his intercom. "Bring the check. She’s finished."

​A moment later, his assistant, a woman with a face as pinched as a lemon, walked in and placed a slip of paper on the desk. I didn't look at the numbers. I knew it was enough. It was blood money, but it was enough.

​"The driver is waiting downstairs," Liam said, turning his back on me again. He was already checking his watch, dismissing me like I was a meeting that had run two minutes over. "He will take you to the private residence. You will stay there until the birth. My doctors will monitor you daily."

​I stood up, my legs shaking. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him that he was a monster, that a child needed love, not just a trust fund and a penthouse. But I was nobody. I was the maid’s daughter who grew up in the shadow of his world, and now, I was just a hired womb.

​"Goodbye, Mr. Sterling," I whispered.

​He didn't answer.

​I walked to the elevator, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The doors slid open, and I stepped inside, the mirrored walls reflecting a pale, terrified girl with tears streaming down her face.

​As the elevator plummeted toward the lobby, I clutched the check to my chest. I had saved Nana. That was what mattered. I repeated it like a mantra. I saved Nana.

​But as the floors ticked down, a sharp, sudden pain shot through my side, followed by a sensation I had never felt before. It wasn't just one kick.

​It was two.

​Distinct. Separate. Simultaneous.

​One on the left. One on the right.

​I froze, my breath hitching. The doctor Liam had hired... he had done the ultrasound so quickly. He had said "one healthy fetus." But I knew my body. And in that silent elevator, with the ink on the contract still wet, a terrifying realization washed over me.

​I looked down at my stomach, my hands trembling.

​I didn't know then that I wasn't carrying one soul, but two.

​And I didn't know that Liam Sterling had just bought the wrong baby.