I HAD THE DEVIL'S TWINS

CHAPTER FOUR: CONDITIONS

Anne

Victor came back an hour later with papers. He set them on the table in front of me—a thick stack of legal documents.

"A contract," he explained. "You agree to carry the baby to term and hand it over after birth. In exchange, your family's company will be saved. All debts cleared. You'll also receive six million dollars."

Six million dollars. More money than I'd see in a lifetime.

"And if I refuse?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Your family loses everything. You remain here regardless, but without compensation." His eyes were cold. "My employer gets his child either way. This arrangement simply makes it worth your while."

I looked at the contract. Pages and pages of legal language I barely understood. But one thing stood out as I skimmed through it.

"This says 'child.' Singular." I looked up at him. "I'm having twins."

He blinked, the first crack in his calm expression. "What?"

"The ultrasound showed two heartbeats. I'm pregnant with twins." I hadn't told anyone yet. The doctor mentioned it during my last visit, said she wanted to confirm with another scan.

Victor's jaw tightened slightly. "I see. I'll need to inform my employer."

"Wait." An idea was forming. A desperate, possibly stupid idea. "The contract says he gets the child. One child."

"That will be amended."

"No." I stood up, my heart racing. "You want me to sign this? Fine. But it stays as written. One child. He gets one baby. I keep the other."

"That's not acceptable."

"Then I don't sign." I crossed my arms even though my hands were shaking. "You said to yourself he only knew about one baby. The contract reflects that. If you change it now, I'll refuse to cooperate. I'll make this entire pregnancy as difficult as possible."

Victor studied me for a long moment. I could see him calculating, weighing options.

"I'll need to consult with my employer," he finally said.

"You do that." I sat back down, pretending to be calmer than I felt. "I'll be here. Not like I can go anywhere."

He gathered the papers and left. I waited until I heard his footsteps fade before letting out a shaky breath.

This was insane. I was negotiating to keep one of my babies while giving up the other to a man I'd never met. A man who'd taken my virginity while I was drugged.

But what choice did I have? At least this way I'd save one of them. At least my family wouldn't lose everything.

I pressed my hand to my stomach again. Two babies. Two tiny heartbeats.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry. But I'll protect at least one of you. I promise."

Victor returned three days later. Three days of being locked in that beautiful prison, eating food brought by silent staff, staring out windows at gardens I couldn't reach.

"My employer has agreed to your terms," he said, setting the unchanged contract in front of me. "One child as specified. The other remains your concern."

Relief and grief hit me at the same time. "Okay."

"There are conditions. You'll remain here for the duration of the pregnancy. Full medical care will be provided. After birth, you take your child and the money and disappear. No contact with my employer or his child. Ever."

"Fine." I could disappear. I wanted to disappear.

"Sign here, here, and here." He pointed to lines marked with little tabs.

My hand shook as I picked up the pen. This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. But I had no other choice.

I signed my name three times, selling my baby for six million dollars and my family's freedom.

"Excellent." Victor took the contract. "I'll arrange for your belongings to be brought here. The medical staff will arrive tomorrow to do a full examination."

"Can I call my family? Let them know I'm okay?"

"No contact with anyone outside. Those are the rules."

"But-"

"The less people know about this arrangement, the better for everyone involved." He moved toward the door. "Someone will bring dinner soon. I suggest you rest. The next seven months will be challenging."

He left me alone again. I curled up on the expensive bed and finally let myself cry.

I'd just agreed to give away my baby. To let some stranger raise my child while I took the other and ran. What kind of mother did that make me?

Rain pounded against the windows like it wanted to break through. Thunder rumbled so loud the glass shook in the frames. I pressed my hand against my enormous belly and tried to breathe through another contraction.

"It's getting worse," I managed to say to Dr. Reyes, one of the medical staff who'd been monitoring me for months.

She checked her watch. "Contractions are four minutes apart. We need to get you to the delivery room now."

The past eight months felt like a lifetime. I'd spent them locked in this estate, watched constantly, my belly growing bigger every day. The medical staff were kind enough—Dr. Reyes especially. We'd become something like friends during the endless checkups and ultrasound appointments.

I'd told them my plan early on. Offered them money—two hundred thousand dollars split between the five staff members who knew about the twins. Enough to ensure their silence. Enough to make them help me hide one baby when the time came.

They'd agreed. Maybe because they felt sorry for me. Maybe because the money was too good to refuse. I didn't care why as long as they kept their promise.

Another contraction hit, and I doubled over, crying out. The pain was worse than anything I'd imagined.

"Deep breaths," Dr. Reyes said, helping me toward the door. "You're doing great."

Two nurses appeared to support me on either side. We made it down the hallway to a room that had been set up like a hospital delivery suite. Everything was ready—machines, monitors, a small clear bassinet in the corner that made my heart clench.

Two bassinets. I needed two. One baby was leaving with Victor. One was staying with me.

"Let's get you on bed," Dr. Reyes said gently.

The next few hours blurred together in waves of pain. Thunder crashed outside while my body tried to tear itself apart. I screamed and cried and begged for it to stop, but Dr. Reyes just kept telling me to push.

"I can see the head!" she said. "One more big push, Anne. Come on!"

I pushed with everything I had left. The pain peaked, then suddenly released. A baby's cry filled the room—loud and angry and perfect.

"It's a boy," Dr. Reyes announced, lifting him up so I could see. "A beautiful, healthy boy."

My son. I'd just given birth to my son.

Tears poured down my face, but I didn't have time to process them. Another contraction hit almost immediately.

"Here we go again," Dr. Reyes said, handing the baby to a nurse. "The second one's coming."

The second birth went faster. Ten minutes of pushing and then another cry joined the first.

"A girl," Dr. Reyes said softly, holding her up. "You did it, Anne. You have twins."

A boy and a girl. My babies. Both of them crying, both of them perfect.

The nurses worked quickly, cleaning them and checking their vital signs. I wanted to hold them both, to see their faces clearly, but Dr. Reyes was already delivering the placentas and stitching me up.

"Can I-" I started, reaching out.

"Soon," Dr. Reyes promised. "Let us make sure they're both healthy first."

I lay back, exhausted and shaking. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck. But I'd done it. I'd survived. Now I just needed to make sure my plan worked.

Dr. Reyes came back to my side, her face serious. "Listen carefully. Victor will be here any minute. We told him you were in labor an hour ago."

My heart jumped. "Already?"

"He wants to take the baby immediately. We need to decide now-which one stays, which one goes."

The question felt like a knife to my chest. How could I choose? How could I decide which of my children to give away?

"The boy," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "He takes the boy."

It killed me to say it. But I'd thought about this for months. In this world, boys had more advantages. The father—whoever he was—was clearly wealthy and powerful. My son would have every opportunity, every privilege. My daughter would have me. Just me. But she'd have a mother who loved her.

Dr. Reyes nodded and went to the nurses. I heard whispered instructions, saw them moving the babies around. Then one nurse brought my daughter over, wrapped in a pink blanket.

"We'll hide her in the back room," she whispered. "When Victor comes, we'll only show him the boy. You need to say goodbye now."

I took my daughter in my arms and looked at her tiny face. She had dark hair and her eyes were closed, her little mouth making sucking motions. She was perfect.

"I love you," I whispered, pressing my lips to her forehead. "I'm keeping you safe. I promise I'm keeping you safe."

The nurse gently took her away and disappeared through a side door. My arms felt empty immediately.

The main door opened and Victor walked in, his expression neutral as always. He looked at me on the bed, pale and exhausted, then at Dr. Reyes.

"Well?" he asked.

"A healthy baby boy," Dr. Reyes said, gesturing to where a nurse held my son. "Eight pounds, two ounces. Perfect Apgar scores."

Victor walked over and looked at the baby without emotion. My son squirmed in the nurse's arms, his tiny face scrunching up.

"Good," Victor said simply. He pulled out an envelope from his jacket. "As agreed."

He tossed it onto the table beside my bed. I didn't need to open it to know it was a check for six million dollars.

"Can I hold him?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Just once. Please."

Victor hesitated, then nodded to the nurse. She brought my son over and placed him in my arms.

He was warm and solid and real. His eyes opened briefly—gray eyes, I noticed, though all newborns had blue or gray eyes at first. He looked at me like he knew me. Like he recognized his mother's voice.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, low enough that only he could hear. "I'm so sorry I can't keep you. But you'll have a good life. Better than I could give you."

I kissed his forehead, breathing in his new baby smell, trying to memorize everything about that moment. My son. My boy. The child I'd never see again.

"That's enough," Victor said.

The nurse took him from my arms. I wanted to scream, to fight, to refuse to let him go. But I just lay there and watched as Victor left with my baby, the door closing behind them with a soft click.

Gone. My son was gone.

The room was too quiet suddenly. Just me and the medical staff and the sound of rain still beating against the windows.

"Where is she?" I asked hoarsely.

Dr. Reyes nodded to the nurse, who disappeared and came back carrying my daughter. They placed her in my arms and this time no one tried to take her away.

I held her close and sobbed. Relief and grief mixed together until I couldn't tell them apart. I'd saved her. I'd kept one of my babies. But I'd lost the other.

"You need to rest," Dr. Reyes said gently. "You lost a lot of blood during delivery."

"I can't stay here," I said in my tears. "I need to leave. Now. Before Victor realizes-"

"He won't come back tonight. We'll help you leave in the morning, but you need to recover first. For your daughter's sake."

She was right. I could barely sit up, let alone escape with a newborn. I nodded and let them take my daughter to clean her properly while they finished patching me up.

By the time they brought her back, I could barely keep my eyes open. Exhaustion pulled at me like a weight.

"What will you name her?" Dr. Reyes asked.

I looked at my daughter's tiny face. "Mira," I said softly. "Her name is Mira."

It meant miracle in some language I'd read about once. And she was a miracle—the one piece of good that came from the worst night of my life.

"Rest now," Dr. Reyes said. "We'll watch over you both."

I fell asleep with Mira in my arms, my heart broken but still beating.