Only one can be saved
Chapter 1: Only One Can Be Saved*
"I'm sorry. We can only save one of them."
The words cut through the haze of pain.
Landed deep inside Sofia Hart's chest.
For a second, she thought she'd misheard.
The contractions had come for hours.
Each one stronger than the last.
Pain blurred the edges of her vision.
Turned every sound into a distant echo.
Surely her exhausted mind was playing tricks.
But then she heard it again.
"We have to make a decision now."
A woman's voice.
Calm.
Detached.
As if she were discussing paperwork instead of a human life.
Sofia's fingers tightened around the hospital sheet.
Knuckles turned white.
Another contraction tore through her.
A cry escaped before she could stop it.
God, it hurt.
She'd spent months preparing for labor.
Reading articles at 3am.
Listening to other women's stories.
Telling herself millions of mothers survived this.
None of them prepared her for this.
None of them prepared her for the fear.
Outside, rain battered the windows.
Thunder rolled across the sky.
Rattled the glass panes.
The storm felt appropriate.
Everything in her life had been falling apart for months.
Maybe this was the final piece.
Another wave hit.
Sofia gasped.
Wrapped both hands around her swollen stomach.
Automatic.
Protective.
Motherly.
Even though she spent nine months reminding herself:
The contract was clear.
The child wasn't hers.
She was only the surrogate.
Only the carrier.
Only paid to bring someone else's child into the world.
At least, that's what she told herself.
Over and over.
For nine months.
But now, lying on the delivery table while her body threatened to give out...
None of those words mattered.
Because when the baby shifted inside her,
Sofia's heart responded instantly.
The way a mother's would.
A tear slid down her temple.
"Please..." she whispered.
Barely audible beneath the machines.
"Please be okay."
As if it understood, the baby kicked.
Weakly.
But enough.
A broken laugh escaped her lips.
"There you are."
Another contraction hit before she could breathe.
Pain exploded.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes.
The room tilted.
Someone shouted.
A nurse rushed forward.
"Doctor, her pressure is dropping again!"
Panic in the woman's voice sent ice through Sofia's veins.
Dropping?
Again?
Nobody told her it happened before.
Nobody told her anything.
For months, every question got vague reassurances.
Everything is normal.
The pregnancy is progressing well.
Don't worry so much.
But something always felt wrong.
Appointments rushed.
Tests secretive.
Reports disappeared from her file.
Whenever she asked, agency reps smiled.
Changed the subject.
She should have walked away.
God, she should have walked away.
Three months ago, after her mother died, she considered it.
The memory hit hard.
Hospital room.
Antiseptic smell.
Her mother's hand growing cold in hers.
Cancer took her slowly.
Piece by piece.
Until almost nothing was left.
Sofia still remembered the last words:
"Live your life, sweetheart. Don't spend it surviving."
Grief washed over her.
What would her mother think seeing her now?
Alone.
Terrified.
Dying because of a contract she couldn't escape.
The money seemed like salvation then.
Enough for debts.
Enough for medical bills.
Enough to keep them afloat.
Now it felt like a trap.
One she walked into willingly.
The delivery room doors burst open.
A man strode inside.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair damp from the storm.
He looked younger than her other doctors.
Yet the room shifted around him.
Nurses straightened.
Conversations stopped.
People listened.
"What's happening?" he demanded.
A nurse handed him a chart.
"Thirty-one-year-old surrogate. Severe hemorrhaging. Blood pressure unstable."
The doctor scanned it.
Professional for three seconds.
Then his frown deepened.
Sofia noticed immediately.
Something was wrong.
He flipped another page.
Then another.
Jaw tightened.
"What is this?"
The nurse blinked. "What?"
"Where are the compatibility reports?"
Silence.
The kind that made hair stand up on Sofia's neck.
"I thought the agency submitted them."
"You thought?"
Sharpness in his voice startled everyone.
Including Sofia.
He flipped faster.
Color drained from his face.
And suddenly Sofia knew.
Not what was happening.
But that something was happening.
Something bad.
Something nobody wanted to explain.
Real fear settled in her chest.
Not fear of labor.
Not fear of death.
Fear of the unknown.
The doctor looked up.
His gaze met hers.
Everything else faded.
Nurses. Machines. Storm.
For one brief moment, just the two of them.
His eyes softened.
"What's your name?"
"Sofia."
Weaker than she intended.
Something flickered across his face.
Recognition.
Concern.
Both.
"I'm Ethan."
He stepped closer.
"Dr. Ethan Cole."
Pause.
Then quietly:
"Sofia, I'm going to do everything I can to get you through this."
The promise shouldn't have mattered.
Doctors said it all the time.
Yet the sincerity in his voice made her throat tighten.
Because he sounded like he meant it.
And after months of being a contract number...
Ethan's hand hovered near hers. He didn't touch her. Not yet.
It was the first time anyone looked at her like her life mattered.
