“First candidate,” she begins, tapping a photo of a young blonde woman. “Twenty-eight, excellent fertility markers, regular menstrual cycle, no complications in her previous pregnancy.”
I flip through the medical charts. “Says here there’s a family history of addiction.”
“Third cousin, twice removed,” Olivia counters. “Statistically irrelevant for genetic predisposition.”
I close the file. “No. Next.”
A flash of frustration crosses her face before she opens another folder. “Candidate two. Thirty-two, perfect health, graduated c*m laude from Columbia, currently working as a—”
“It says she wants a relationship with the child,” I interrupt, reading from the notes section at the bottom of the page.
“An annual update and photograph,” Olivia clarifies. “Many surrogates request—”
“Absolu
