His Contract, My Womb

Chapter 4: His Voice Lingers

I don't go home.

I drive to the hospital instead. Park in the lot and sit there for twenty minutes trying to figure out what to say.

Mom had another daughter.

A daughter she gave up.

A daughter who died looking for her.

Why didn't she tell me?

I finally get out of the car and walk inside. My legs feel weak. Everything feels wrong.

Mom's awake when I get to her room. She's reading a magazine. Something about gardening. She hasn't had a garden in years.

"Maya." She smiles when she sees me. "I wasn't expecting you today."

I close the door behind me.

"Who's Emma Torres?"

The magazine falls from her hands.

Her face goes white. Actually white. Like all the blood just drained out.

"What?"

"Emma Torres. Your daughter. My half-sister. The one you gave up for adoption and never told me about."

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

"How did you..."

"Does it matter?"

"Maya, I—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice cracks. "Why didn't you tell me I had a sister?"

Tears fill her eyes. "I was seventeen. I was scared. I had no money, no support. Her father left the second I told him I was pregnant."

"So you just gave her away?"

"I gave her a chance," she says. Her voice breaks. "A chance at a real family. At a good life. Something I couldn't give her."

"And you never thought to mention it? Not once in twenty-four years?"

"I tried to forget." She's crying now. "I tried to move on. Then I had you and I thought... I thought maybe I could do it right this time."

I feel sick.

"She looked for you," I say. "Emma. She spent years trying to find you."

Mom's face crumples. "I know."

"You know?"

"She found me. Two weeks before she died. She called me. We were supposed to meet."

My legs give out. I sit in the chair by her bed.

"You talked to her?"

"Once. On the phone. She sounded so happy. So excited. She said she'd been searching for years. That she finally felt complete."

"And then what?"

"And then she died." Mom wipes her eyes. "Two weeks later. Before we could meet. Before I could tell her I was sorry. Before I could explain."

The room is too small. Too hot. I can't breathe in here.

"Did you know about Dominic?"

She looks confused. "Who?"

"Dominic Hale. Emma's boyfriend. The man she was with when she died."

"I... I saw his name in the obituary. But I never met him."

"I'm carrying his baby."

Mom's eyes go wide. "What?"

"The job. The money. It's not a job. I'm a surrogate. For Dominic Hale. He hired me to carry his child."

"Maya, no—"

"He hired me because I look like Emma. Because I'm her half-sister. He's using me to replace her."

Mom tries to sit up. Reaches for me. "You have to get out of that contract. You have to—"

"I can't. I already signed it. I already spent the money. On you. On your treatment."

She starts crying harder. "Oh, baby. What did you do?"

"I saved you," I say. My voice is hollow. Empty. "That's what I did."

I stand up. Walk to the door.

"Maya, please—"

"I need to go."

"Don't leave like this. Let me explain—"

"There's nothing to explain, Mom. You had a daughter. You gave her up. She died. And now I'm stuck living her life."

I walk out before she can say anything else.

I drive around for hours.

No destination. Just driving.

My phone won't stop buzzing. Mom calling. Texting. Begging me to come back.

I turn it off.

By the time I get home, it's dark. I'm exhausted. My whole body aches.

There's someone sitting on my apartment steps.

Dominic.

He stands when he sees me. Still in his perfect suit. Still looking cold and untouchable.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"You weren't answering your phone."

"So you stalked me?"

"I needed to make sure you were okay. The procedure—"

"I'm fine."

"Maya—"

"Don't." I push past him. Unlock my door. "Just don't."

He follows me inside anyway.

My apartment looks even smaller with him in it. Everything looks cheap and broken and sad.

"You shouldn't have told me," I say. I don't turn around. "About Emma. About who she was."

"You asked."

"I didn't ask to be part of your twisted grief process."

Silence.

"Is that what you think this is?" His voice is quiet. Dangerous.

"What else would it be? You lost her. You found me. I look like her. I'm related to her. So you hired me to carry your baby. To keep some piece of her alive."

"That's not—"

"Don't lie to me." I finally turn around. Face him. "I'm done with lies. My whole life is built on lies. My mom's lies. Your lies. I'm so tired of lies."

He stares at me. Something shifts in his eyes. Something almost human.

"You're right," he says.

I wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

"You're right. I did choose you because of Emma. Because when I saw your application, your photo, I thought... I thought maybe this was fate. A second chance."

"A second chance at what?"

"At doing something right." He runs a hand through his hair. Messes it up. Makes him look younger. More real. "I was driving the night Emma died. We'd been fighting. She wanted me to meet her birth mother with her. I said no. I said it was a waste of time. That her real family was the one who raised her."

My chest tightens.

"She got upset. Started crying. I took my eyes off the road for one second. Just one second to look at her. And then..."

He stops. Swallows hard.

"The car hit a patch of ice. We spun out. Hit the guardrail. She wasn't wearing her seatbelt. She'd taken it off to turn and yell at me. The impact threw her..."

He can't finish.

"I walked away with bruises," he says. "She died on the way to the hospital. And the last thing I said to her was that her birth mother didn't matter."

I don't know what to say.

"So yes," he continues. "When I saw your application. When I saw you were Linda Chen's daughter. Emma's half-sister. I thought maybe I could fix it. Maybe I could give Emma's family something. A child. A legacy. Something good out of all this pain."

"That's insane."

"I know."

"You can't fix her death by using me."

"I know that too."

We stand there. The air between us feels heavy. Thick.

"I should go," he finally says.

"Yeah. You should."

He walks to the door. Stops.

"For what it's worth," he says without turning around. "I am sorry. For all of it. For Emma. For dragging you into this. For everything."

He leaves.

And I'm alone again.

I sit on my couch. Stare at nothing.

Two weeks later, I take the test.

Positive.

I'm pregnant.

I text Dominic the photo.

His response comes immediately.

Move into my house this weekend. I'll send a car.

I have a lease.

I'll handle it.

I have a life.

Not anymore. You signed a contract.

I want to fight him. Want to tell him no.

But what's the point?

He owns me now. For the next year, I'm his.

I start packing.

The car comes Saturday morning.

It's not the same driver as before. This one is older. Nicer. He helps me load my boxes without asking questions.

We drive for forty minutes. Out of the city. Into the kind of neighborhood where houses have gates and security cameras.

Dominic's house is massive. All glass and stone and sharp angles. It looks cold. Expensive. Empty.

The driver helps me carry my boxes inside.

The foyer alone is bigger than my entire apartment.

"Miss Chen."

I turn around.

There's a woman standing there. Maybe sixty. Gray hair pulled back. Kind eyes.

"I'm Grace. Mr. Hale's housekeeper. I'll be showing you to your room."

"Where is he?"

"Mr. Hale is working. He asked me to get you settled."

Of course he did.

Grace leads me upstairs. Down a long hallway. Past closed doors.

She stops at the last door on the left.

"This is your room. Private bathroom. Walk-in closet. Mr. Hale had it prepared for you."

The room is beautiful. Huge bed. Big windows overlooking the backyard. Everything clean and perfect and sterile.

"There are some rules," Grace says gently.

"Of course there are."

"Mr. Hale's office is downstairs. First door on the right. You're not to disturb him when the door is closed."

"Got it."

"Meals are at eight, one, and seven. Mr. Hale expects you to eat properly. I'll be monitoring your nutrition per Dr. Lindholm's guidelines."

"Anything else?"

"Yes." Grace's voice softens. "He's not as cold as he seems. Give him time."

She leaves me alone.

I unpack my boxes. Hang my clothes in the massive closet. Put my toothbrush in the marble bathroom.

Everything I own looks small and sad in this huge perfect space.

My phone rings.

It's Mom.

I answer this time.

"Maya—"

"I'm at Dominic's house," I say. "I moved in today."

"Honey, please. Let's talk about this. Let's figure something out—"

"There's nothing to figure out, Mom. I'm pregnant. I signed a contract. This is my life now."

"It doesn't have to be."

"Yeah. It does."

I hang up.

Then I lie on the massive bed and stare at the ceiling.

Somewhere in this house, Dominic is working. Pretending I don't exist.

And somewhere inside me, a baby is growing.

A baby that's half him. Half someone I'll never know.

A baby I'll have to give away in nine months.

I put my hand on my still-flat stomach.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

A knock on the door makes me jump.

"Come in."

The door opens. But it's not Grace.

It's Dominic.

He's changed. Jeans and a t-shirt. No suit. No armor.

He looks younger. More vulnerable.

"I wanted to make sure you're settling in okay," he says.

"I'm fine."

He nods. Starts to leave. Then stops.

"My mother is coming for dinner tomorrow night," he says. "She wants to meet you."

Everything in me goes cold.

"Why?"

"Because you're carrying her grandchild. And because she insisted."

"Can I say no?"

His jaw tightens. "Not really."

"Of course not."

He leaves. Closes the door quietly behind him.

I sit there trying not to panic.

His mother. Tomorrow night.

The woman who probably knows all about Emma. All about what her son is doing.

I grab my phone. Google "Isabel Hale."

The first image that pops up makes my blood run cold.

She's standing at a charity gala. Diamonds around her neck. Cold smile. Sharp eyes.

And next to her in the photo, looking miserable, is a young Dominic.

But that's not what makes me freeze.

Behind them, barely visible in the background, is another woman.

Dark hair. Small frame. Beautiful smile.

Emma.

I zoom in. Read the caption.

Isabel Hale with son Dominic and his girlfriend Emma Torres at the Metropolitan Museum Gala, five years ago.

Five years ago. Right before Emma died.

And Isabel is looking at Emma in the photo with pure hatred in her eyes.