Amara’s POV
The white walls of the exam room were closing in on me.
The air smelled of rubbing alcohol and industrial lemon cleaner—a scent that made my stomach do another slow, agonizing flip. I sat on the edge of the crinkly paper-covered table, my fingers digging into the vinyl padding.
I looked at the clock. It had been forty minutes. In the world of the ultra-rich, forty minutes was an eternity. Adrian would have fired an entire department for a forty-minute delay. But here, in the cold reality of a public hospital, I was just another patient in a queue.
My mind kept drifting back to the contract. Article 8.4. I could see the words in my head, printed in sharp, black Garamond font. “In the event of an unplanned pregnancy, the Party of the Second Part agrees to immediate terminatio
