His Contract, My Womb

Chapter 5: Where I Can GO

I can't stop staring at that photo.

Isabel's face. The way she's looking at Emma. Like she wants her gone.

Did she know Emma was adopted? Did she know about the birth mother search?

Did she hate Emma enough to...

No. That's crazy. People don't kill their son's girlfriends just because they don't like them.

But that look in her eyes. It's not just dislike.

It's rage.

I screenshot the photo. Save it. I don't know why. Just feels like I should.

My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number.

*Wear something nice tomorrow. Isabel doesn't tolerate sloppiness.*

I stare at it. Text back.

*Who is this?*

*Grace. Mr. Hale gave me your number. I'm here to help.*

Right. The housekeeper who said Dominic isn't as cold as he seems.

*I don't have anything nice.*

*What size are you?*

*Small. Why?*

*I'll handle it.*

She doesn't explain. Just stops responding.

I lie back on the bed. Put my hand on my stomach again.

"Your grandmother hates me already," I whisper. "And we haven't even met."

---

The next morning, there's a dress hanging on my door.

Not just any dress. A designer dress. Tags still on. Probably costs more than three months of my old rent.

Deep blue. Simple. Elegant.

There's a note pinned to it.

*This will work. Shoes are in the closet. -G*

I open the closet. There are three pairs of heels that weren't there yesterday.

All my size.

Grace works fast.

I try on the dress. It fits perfectly. Makes me look older. Put together. Like I belong in a house like this.

I don't recognize myself in the mirror.

---

Dinner is at seven.

I spend all day anxious. Pacing. Trying not to throw up from nerves or morning sickness or both.

At six-thirty, I force myself to get ready. Put on the dress. The shoes. Try to do something with my hair.

I look okay. Not great. But okay.

At six fifty-five, I go downstairs.

The dining room is massive. Long table. Crystal chandelier. Too many forks.

Dominic's already there. Black suit. Tie. Back to looking untouchable.

He glances up when I walk in. His eyes move over the dress. Something flickers in his face but disappears fast.

"You look nice," he says.

"Grace picked it out."

"I know. I told her to."

Of course he did.

The doorbell rings.

Dominic's whole body tenses. "That's her."

"Should I hide in the kitchen?"

"No. Stand next to me. She needs to see we're... united."

United. Right. Like we're a team instead of two strangers trapped in a contract.

I move next to him anyway.

Grace appears. Opens the front door.

And Isabel Hale walks in.

She's smaller than I expected. Maybe five-foot-five in heels. Thin. Perfectly styled blonde hair. Expensive everything.

But her eyes. Cold. Sharp. Missing nothing.

Those are exactly like Dominic's.

"Darling." She kisses Dominic's cheek. Doesn't smile. "You look tired."

"I'm fine, Mother."

Her gaze shifts to me. Looks me up and down like I'm something she's considering buying.

Or throwing away.

"So this is her."

Not "nice to meet you." Not "hello." Just "this is her."

"Mother, this is Maya Chen. Maya, my mother, Isabel Hale."

I force a smile. Hold out my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Hale."

She doesn't take my hand.

Just stares at me. Her face goes pale. Actually pale.

"You look just like her," she says quietly.

The air in the room changes.

"Mother—" Dominic starts.

"Don't." Isabel's voice sharpens. "Don't pretend I'm imagining it. She looks exactly like Emma."

"That's not—"

"Did you think I wouldn't notice? Did you think I wouldn't see what you're doing?"

I drop my hand. Step back.

"Mrs. Hale, I—"

"How much is he paying you?" She turns to me. Her eyes are ice. "How much does it cost to pretend to be a dead girl?"

"I'm not pretending to be anyone."

"Then why do you look like her? Why are you here? Why are you carrying my son's child?"

"Because I needed the money."

Wrong answer. I know it the second the words leave my mouth.

Isabel's face twists. "Of course. Money. That's all people like you care about."

"That's enough." Dominic's voice is hard. Cold. "Maya is a guest in my home. You will treat her with respect."

"Respect?" Isabel laughs. It's an ugly sound. "You want me to respect the girl you hired to play dress-up as your dead girlfriend?"

"She's not—"

"I saw the contract, Dominic. I know exactly what this is. You're paying this... this nobody to carry a child so you can pretend Emma never died."

My chest tightens. I can't breathe right.

"I think I should go," I say.

"No." Dominic grabs my wrist. Gently. "Stay."

"Dominic—"

"Please."

Something in his voice makes me stop.

Isabel watches this. Her eyes narrow.

"Oh," she says softly. "Oh, this is worse than I thought."

"What are you talking about?" Dominic asks.

"You actually care about her." Isabel looks at me like I'm a disease. "You brought her here. Into your home. You're not just using her as a surrogate. You're trying to replace Emma with her."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? Look at her, Dominic. She has Emma's face. Emma's eyes. You picked her specifically because of that."

"I picked her because—"

"Because you're still in love with a ghost." Isabel's voice breaks. Actually breaks. "Emma is dead. She's been dead for five years. And nothing you do will bring her back."

Silence.

Dominic's hand is still on my wrist. His grip tightens.

"I know she's dead," he says quietly. "I know that every single day."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I owe her."

"You owe her nothing. The accident wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was." His voice cracks. "I was driving. I was angry. I took my eyes off the road. She died because of me."

"She died because it was icy and she wasn't wearing her seatbelt and sometimes terrible things just happen." Isabel's voice softens slightly. "You can't punish yourself forever."

"Watch me."

Isabel looks at me again. Her face hardens.

"You should leave," she says. "Take whatever money he's already given you and go. Before this destroys you both."

"I can't," I say.

"Why not?"

"Because I already spent the money. On my mother. She has cancer. Stage four. Without the money, she dies."

Something flickers in Isabel's eyes. Not sympathy. Something else.

"Of course," she says. "There's always a dying mother. Always a sob story."

"It's not a story. It's my life."

"Your life." Isabel laughs again. "You don't have a life anymore, dear. You signed it away. You're just a womb now. A vessel. The second that baby is born, you'll be nothing to him. Less than nothing."

The words hit like a slap.

Because she's right.

That's exactly what I am.

"Dinner is ready," Grace appears in the doorway. Her voice is careful. "Should I serve?"

"No," Isabel says. She grabs her purse. "I've lost my appetite. Dominic, call me when you've come to your senses."

She walks out. The front door slams behind her.

The silence is deafening.

Dominic lets go of my wrist. Runs both hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he says. "She shouldn't have said those things."

"Were they true?"

"What?"

"The things she said. About me being nothing. About you just using me to replace Emma."

He doesn't answer.

That's answer enough.

I turn to leave.

"Maya, wait—"

"I'm tired. I'm going to my room."

"Please don't—"

"What? Don't what, Dominic? Don't realize I'm trapped? Don't understand that I sold myself? Don't feel like a ghost?"

"You're not a ghost."

"Then what am I?"

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Can't answer.

I walk upstairs. Lock my door. Sit on the floor with my back against it.

My phone buzzes.

A text from Mom.

How are you feeling? Is the baby okay?

The baby. Right. The baby that's the only reason any of this matters.

I don't respond.

Another text comes through. Different number.

*Isabel called me. She's concerned about the arrangement. I think we should talk. - Dr. Lindholm*

Then another. Unknown number.

*You need to be careful. Isabel Hale is dangerous. She got rid of Emma. Don't let her get rid of you too.*

Everything goes cold.

I call the number. It rings once. Then disconnects.

I try again. This time it says the number is no longer in service.

Someone just warned me about Isabel.

Someone who knows what happened to Emma.

I screenshot the text. My hands are shaking.

There's a knock on my door.

"Maya." Dominic's voice. "Please let me in."

"Go away."

"I need to explain—"

"There's nothing to explain. Your mother made everything pretty clear."

"She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Doesn't she?"

Silence.

"Did your mother hate Emma?" I ask through the door.

More silence.

"Dominic. Did she?"

"Yes," he finally says. "She hated her."

"Why?"

"Because Emma wasn't good enough. Wasn't from the right family. Wasn't what she wanted for me."

"And now I'm here. Looking just like her. Carrying your baby. How do you think that makes your mother feel?"

"I don't care how she feels."

"You should." I stand up. Open the door. Face him. "Because that text I just got? Someone warned me about her. Said she got rid of Emma. Said she'll get rid of me too."

His face goes white.

"What?"

I show him the text.

He reads it. Reads it again.

"Who sent this?"

"I don't know. The number's disconnected now."

He stares at the screen. His jaw clenches.

"My mother didn't kill Emma," he says. But his voice shakes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I was there. It was an accident. Ice on the road. I lost control."

"But Emma was fighting with you. About her birth mother. About meeting her. Did your mother know about that?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe."

"And your mother hated Emma. And Emma died before she could meet her birth mother. Before she could meet my mom."

Dominic's breathing changes. Gets faster.

"You think my mother somehow caused the accident."

"I think someone doesn't want me here. And that same someone might have wanted Emma gone too."

He backs away. Shakes his head.

"No. That's insane. My mother is cold but she's not a murderer."

"Then who sent me that text?"

He doesn't have an answer.

His phone rings. He pulls it out. His face goes even paler.

"What?" I ask.

"It's the hospital. Your mother's hospital."

Ice runs through my veins.

He answers. Puts it on speaker.

"Mr. Hale, this is Mercy General Hospital. We're calling about Linda Chen. There's been an incident."

"What kind of incident?" I grab the phone from him.

"Miss Chen? Your mother collapsed during her treatment. We've stabilized her but she's asking for you. You should come right away."

The phone almost slips from my hands.

"I'm coming. I'm coming right now."

I hang up. Look at Dominic.

"I need to go."

"I'll drive you."

"No—"

"I'm driving you. Let's go."

We run to his car. He speeds the whole way.

My mind is racing. Mom collapsed. She's asking for me. She's stabilized but that could mean anything.

What if she's dying? What if I'm too late?

What if someone hurt her?

We get to the hospital in fifteen minutes. I'm out of the car before it fully stops.

I run through the lobby. Take the stairs. Burst into Mom's room.

She's in bed. Tubes everywhere. Eyes closed.

"Mom." I grab her hand. "Mom, I'm here."

Her eyes flutter open. She looks so weak.

"Maya," she whispers.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Someone was here," she says. Her voice is barely audible. "Someone came into my room."

"Who?"

"A woman. Blonde. Expensive clothes. She said..." Mom's eyes fill with tears. "She said I should tell you to leave. To take the money and go. Before something happens to you."

My blood turns to ice.

"Did she say her name?"

Mom shakes her head. "But she left this."

She hands me a business card.

Thick. Expensive. Embossed gold lettering.

Isabel Hale

Hale Industries