All Chapters of The Surrogate Virgin : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The knock on the bathroom door was quiet, but it thundered straight through me.“Grace.”My fingers froze around the envelope. The map crumpled in my grip as panic surged. I shoved it back into the hollow behind the loose tile, but the damage was already done. He’d heard.“I’ll be out in a second,” I called, forcing steadiness into my voice.The silence on the other side was worse than shouting. Then came the slow drag of his hand against the wood more ache than anger.“Don’t shut me out again, don’t do that,” Noah said, low, tired, almost pleading.Something inside me gave way. My hand trembled as I slid back the lock.He stood in the hall, hair unkempt, jaw locked tight, eyes storm-dark and relentless. He looked at me as if every suspicion he’d been burying had finally clawed its way to the surface, and all he needed now was my confirmation to let it burn.“What’s going on?” His voice was sharp but edged with hurt. “Who’s been calling you? What are you hiding from me?”I shook my he

The sunlight was too soft for the kind of storm hanging over us. It spilled across the sheets in a golden haze, warm against my skin, but it only made the tension in Noah’s shoulders stand out sharper as he lay beside me.Neither of us had really slept. I’d spent the night counting the ticks of the clock, every second reminding me: three days. That’s all I had before Vivienne followed through on her threat, before my mother was gone.Noah’s eyes opened like he’d never been asleep. Watchful, alert.“Morning,” he murmured.I swallowed. “You didn’t sleep.”“Neither did you.” His voice was low, worn thin by everything we hadn’t dared to say out loud.For a second, I thought we’d fall back into silence, let it choke the air the way it had all night. But I couldn’t—not anymore. I reached for the nightstand, pulling out the folded map I’d hidden there. My hand shook as I set it between us.“No more secrets,” I said. “Not from you, I found this.”His gaze sharpened as he took it, smoothing th

The house was so still I could hear the ticking of the hallway clock. Each sound felt louder than it should have, like the world itself was warning us not to move.I stood in Nova’s doorway, watching her small body curled up beneath the blanket. Her little rabbit toy was tucked under her chin, ears frayed from love. I leaned against the frame for longer than I should’ve, memorizing her, willing myself to believe she’d still be safe when we came back.Noah appeared behind me, his jacket zipped, the envelope with the map and photo tucked inside. His hand brushed mine, a silent reminder, time to go.I bent down, pressing a soft kiss to Nova’s forehead. She stirred, murmured something in her sleep, and settled again. My chest ached so sharply it felt like it might split open.“Let’s move,” Noah whispered, his voice low but firm.We padded down the hallway, our footsteps hushed against the hardwood. Every creak of the floorboard made me wince, every shadow felt like an accusation. I grabbe

The sound of the lock sliding into place echoed like a gunshot. I froze, my breath fogging in the cold air. The flashlight beam jittered as Noah swung it toward the door, rattling the handle hard, but nothing. It was solid steel.“She locked us in,” I whispered, my voice too thin.His jaw clenched, the muscles in his forearm tight as he yanked again. “Vivienne.” He spat the name like a curse, then turned, sweeping the light across the cavernous space.The warehouse seemed even bigger now, shadows stretching long and heavy. Every creak and drip sounded closer, sharper, like something circling just beyond the light.“Noah,” I said, forcing calm into my tone, “panicking won’t get us out.”His gaze snapped to mine. Fury burned there, but underneath it something more fragile, Betrayal.“She’s alive,” he said hoarsely, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “All these years, Grace. She was alive, and she’s behind this.”I wanted to reach for him, to soften the crack in his voice but my mother

The headlights cut across the living room wall, sweeping over the half-open box on the coffee table, and then just as quickly they were gone. The hum of the engine faded into the night until it was only silence again but it wasn’t the silence of safety. It was the silence of a threat that hadn’t shown its face yet.I couldn’t breathe until I heard the night settle back down, the crickets, the faint hum of power lines, the tick of the kitchen clock. My hands were still pressed flat to the box, fingers gripping the worn cardboard like it could anchor me to the ground.“They know,” I whispered.Noah didn’t answer right away. He’d crossed to the window, his shadow tall against the thin curtains, watching the stretch of street outside. His jaw was tight, his shoulders wound so tight it looked like the tendons might snap.“They’re watching,” he said finally. His voice was low, steady, the kind of steady you only get when you’re barely holding something back.I stood, pacing, the old wooden