EIGHT
1977 Words
NATHAN
I was about to leave the house when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I turned, ready to tell whoever it was to hurry up because I was already running late, but then I saw her and my brain short-circuited.
“Grandma?”
She was standing there in a cream suit, hair pinned, pearls gleaming, the kind of entrance that always made people straighten their backs without knowing why. She looked annoyed, which meant I was in trouble.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, going over and kissing her cheek. “You were supposed to be in Monaco.”
She didn’t smile. “I was,” she said, frowning at me. “Until I heard what kind of nonsense you’ve started. How could you be so stupid, Nathaniel? Bringing your enemy into your home?”
Ah. So that’s what this was about.
I tried not to grin, but it slipped out anyway. “You mean Andrea,” I said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare say her name like that. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? That girl is dangerous. She’s connected to things you shouldn’t be touching.”
“Relax, Grandma,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
She swatted my hand away. “No, you don’t. You’re playing with fire. I don’t know what she’s done to you, but this girl isn’t someone you bring under your roof. She’s the kind of person you watch from a distance or better, not at all.”
I laughed quietly. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?”
Her jaw tightened. “That saying has killed more men than it’s saved.”
“Maybe,” I said, picking up my keys. “But sometimes you need your enemy to open the right door.”
She looked at me sharply. “The right door? What are you planning, Nathaniel?”
I smiled because I knew she hated when I did that. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she said, her voice rising a little. “You think I don’t see what’s happening? You’re using that girl. You think she’s a key to something. I don’t know what, but I can see it all over your face.”
I stepped closer and kissed her cheek again. “I love you, Grandma, but I need you to behave while I’m gone. Don’t scare the key away.”
Her eyes widened and for a second, she looked genuinely hurt. “You’re out of your mind,” she whispered.
“Maybe,” I said, walking toward the door. “But it’s working so far.”
She called after me, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.
Marco was waiting outside with the car. He didn’t ask questions he never does.
“Where to, boss?”
“The docks,” I said. “Lucio’s waiting.”
He nodded and pulled out of the driveway.
I leaned back in the seat, loosening my tie. The air smelled like leather and smoke, and the city lights blurred against the windows. My mind was still half on Grandma, half on Andrea. She didn’t understand Andrea wasn’t just some girl I’d dragged home for fun. She was leverage that I could use when the time came. She just didn’t know it yet.
When we got to the docks, the air was damp, and I could smell the salt. Lucio was already there, leaning on his car with that fake grin he loved to wear.
“Nathan,” he said when I walked up. “Right on time.”
“I don’t waste time,” I said.
He looked amused. “I heard you’ve been busy lately.”
I didn’t answer. I just stood there until he started to get uncomfortable, then said, “You know why I’m here.”
Lucio’s grin widened. “Andrea.”
“Exactly.”
He laughed. “You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that. Keeping her under your roof? You think I don’t know?”
“I was hoping you’d know. Saves me the trouble of hiding it.”
He studied me for a second, his expression shifting from amusement to something harder.
“You do realize what you’re risking…”
“You’re not touching her, Lucio. She’s mine now. You lay a hand on her, and you’re breaking the treaty. You want a war?”
He tilted his head. “Since when do you care so much about one girl?”
I didn’t answer that, because I didn’t have to. Let him think whatever he wanted.
He smirked. “You always did have a soft spot for pretty things.”
“But keep your distance.” I said, turning to leave.
He called out after me, “This isn’t over.”
I stopped just long enough to glance back. “Nothing ever is.”
Back in the car, I loosened my tie again. My hands were steady, but my head wasn’t quiet. The meeting had gone fine, but it didn’t feel finished. Lucio wouldn’t let it go. And Grandma, she’d find a way to meddle. She always did.
“Marco,” I said after a while, “run a quick background check on Andrea right now. From the day she left for London until now. I want everything.”
He nodded. “Any reason in particular?”
I stared out the window. “Let’s just say I like to know what I own.”
He didn’t reply, just started typing. I could hear the soft clicking of the keyboard.
Fifteen minutes later, he said, “Boss… you might want to see this.”
I turned to him, already feeling the tension rise. “What?”
“She’s been seeing someone. A guy in London. A boyfriend.”
The word hit me like a punch. I sat there for a second, quiet, then reached over and grabbed the bottle sitting in the cup holder. Before I could think, I slammed it against the door. Glass shattered everywhere, scattering across the seat and floor.
Marco didn’t move. He just kept his head down, smart enough to let me cool off.
I stared at the broken glass, breathing hard. I don’t even know why I was so angry. It shouldn’t have mattered. But the idea of her with someone else made something twist in my chest, something ugly.
“How serious?” I asked finally.
“Pretty serious,” Marco said carefully. “Photos. Trips. Looks like they’ve been together a while.”
I leaned back, pressing my palms over my eyes. “Unbelievable.”
“Do you want me to…”
“Not yet,” I said, cutting him off. “Keep digging. Find out who he is. Where he works, what he does, how they met. I want it all.”
“Understood.”
I looked out the window again, Andrea was still my plan, my key, my leverage. But for the first time, I started to realize she might also be my problem.
We drove through the city, every red light felt personal, like the universe was mocking me one intersection at a time. Marco kept one hand on the wheel, the other tapping against the steering column I just wanted to get this hospital crap over with.
When we finally pulled into the parking lot, Marco cut the engine and looked at me through the rearview mirror. His eyes were steady, unreadable. “Are you sure you want to do this today?”
I didn’t look at him. Marco knew better than to push. He just gave a small nod, the kind that meant I’ll be around if you crash and burn, and watched me climb out of the car.
The automatic doors sighed open, letting out that sharp antiseptic scent that always reminded me of the night my family died.
The receptionist smiled at me like she was paid by the hour to pretend she cared. I didn’t smile back.
Dr. Serrano’s office was at the end of a long corridor that hummed faintly with fluorescent lights. He was already there when I walked in, sitting behind his desk, tapping something on his tablet. When he looked up, his expression was the same as always calm and professional maybe a little too rehearsed.
“Nathan,” he said, standing. “Right on time.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, sinking into the chair across from him. “You said you had results.”
“Yes. The scans confirm what we discussed before. The growth hasn’t changed, but we can’t keep waiting. It’s time to schedule surgery.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as possible,” he said gently. “It’s a routine procedure, but the longer we delay, the higher the risk. You are young, which helps but we shouldn’t gamble.”
He kept talking, explaining risks, recovery time, medication. I heard the words but not their meaning. My mind kept drifting to Andrea’s face flashing behind my eyelids, that smile she gave her boyfriend in that stupid picture or the way she laughed like nothing could touch her. I hated that it still burned.
“Have you stored the samples?” I asked like I was referring to a new product and not my sperm.
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile people use when they’ve said the same reassurance too many times. “Safe and secure. So no matter what happens after surgery, you won’t lose your ability to have biological children.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Perfect. Can’t wait to be half a man with samples in a freezer.”
He gave me that careful look doctors give when they’re deciding whether to push back. “You’re not half a man, Nathan. You’re taking control of your future.”
“Sure,” I said quietly, not believing a word.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve already reached out to some agencies regarding potential surrogacy options. If the surgery affects fertility, you’ll have choices ready. We can arrange consultations…”
I cut him off. “No need.”
He paused. “I’m sorry?”
“I said there’s no need,” I repeated, my tone sharper now.
He frowned, uncertain. “Nathan, I don’t understand.”
“I’ve already found a vessel.”
The word hung in the air between us, heavy and wrong. His fingers stilled on the tablet. “A… vessel?”
I met his eyes. “Yeah. Someone who’ll carry what’s mine.”
His face shifted with professionalism cracking at the edges. “Nathan, that’s not a decision to take lightly. Whoever you choose, she needs to understand the process, the legal boundaries, the…”
“She’ll understand,” I said. “Eventually.”
He hesitated, clearly uneasy now. “At least let me give you the forms, the psychological screening…”
“I’ll handle it my way.”
Finally, Dr. Serrano exhaled through his nose, a long, weary sound. “All right. I’ll have my assistant call Marco about scheduling the surgery. But Nathan, don’t delay too long.”
“I won’t.”
I stood, straightened my shirt, and looked around his office one last time the framed degrees, the polished desk, the bowl of sugar-free mints no one ever ate. Everything in here screamed control, order, safety. It felt fake.
When I stepped back into the hallway, the air felt thinner. My chest was tight, like I’d been holding my breath for hours. The walls were lined with posters about recovery, courage, and family support. My thoughts kept circling the same point… Andrea. She was the one. She didn’t know it yet, but she was going to be the mother of my child.
One way or another, she’d understand.
Willingly or not.
- Writer
