THREE BILLION DOLLAR BABIES

Chapter 2: The Ghost

The law office was all glass and leather, the kind of place that made my borrowed blazer feel like a Halloween costume.

I'd never been to a Manhattan office this fancy. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park, abstract art that probably cost more than my annual salary, a receptionist who looked like she'd walked off a runway.

I tugged at my blazer—Yuki's, actually, since I didn't own anything remotely professional enough for this meeting. My hands were sweating.

"Dr. Morgan?" The receptionist smiled with perfect white teeth. "They're ready for you. Conference room three, down the hall on your left."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

This was it. The contract signing. After this, there was no going back.

The medical screening on Monday had been thorough and humiliating—blood work, genetic testing, psychological evaluation, physical exam. They'd poked and prodded every inch of me, asking invasive questions about my health history, my family, my mental state.

I'd passed. Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be here.

The conference room door was heavy, expensive. I pushed it open.

A man stood by the windows, back to me. Tall, broad shoulders, perfectly tailored suit that probably cost more than my rent. Dark hair with silver at the temples.

"Ms. Morgan," he said without turning around. His voice was warm, friendly. "I'm Marcus Reynolds, Mr. Steele's attorney and business partner. Please, sit."

He turned with a smile that was probably designed to put people at ease. It didn't work. My stomach was in knots.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm fine. Thank you." I sat in one of the leather chairs, feeling like a child in a grown-up's seat.

Marcus sat across from me, pulling out documents. "I know this must feel overwhelming. I want you to know we appreciate what you're doing. Mr. Steele is—well, this means everything to him."

I nodded, not sure what to say.

"He should be here any moment. Traffic." Marcus checked his watch. "While we wait, do you have any questions about the contract terms?"

A million questions. But they all died in my throat when the conference room door opened.

And Dominic Steele walked in.

The air left my lungs.

I knew that face. Those cold grey eyes. That sharp jawline.

I'd seen him three years ago, standing in a hospital corridor, his face twisted with grief and rage as he told me I'd killed the woman he loved.

Victoria Chen's fiancé.

No. No, no, no.

This couldn't be happening.

Dominic stopped short when he saw me. His entire body went rigid. Those grey eyes turned to ice.

"You."

The single word was loaded with three years of hatred.

Marcus looked between us, confused. "You two know each other?"

"We've met." Dominic's voice was dangerously quiet. He didn't take his eyes off me. "Dr. Morgan was my fiancée's doctor. The one who let her die."

My hands clenched in my lap. "I was cleared by the medical board. Victoria's death was—"

"A tragic accident?" Dominic's laugh was bitter. "That's what they all say. The board protects its own."

"Mr. Steele," Marcus interjected carefully. "Perhaps we should—"

"No." Dominic moved to the head of the table, every movement controlled. "Dr. Morgan and I understand each other perfectly. Don't we, Doctor?"

I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I didn't kill Victoria. Her reaction to the anesthesia was unpreventable. One in a million."

"And yet she's dead." He sat down, his gaze never leaving mine. "Convenient that you're the one who'll be carrying my children now."

The implications hit me like a slap. "I didn't know the client was you. If I'd known—"

"You'd have what? Turned down a quarter million dollars?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Let's not pretend you have principles, Dr. Morgan. You're here for the money. Just like everyone else."

Heat flooded my face. He wasn't wrong, but the way he said it made me feel like something he'd scraped off his shoe.

"If you don't want me as your surrogate, find someone else." I started to stand.

"Sit down."

I froze. There was command in his voice, the kind of authority that came from years of people obeying him without question.

"I've already invested time and money in the screening process," Dominic continued coldly. "You're medically suitable. Your genetics are acceptable. The contract is drawn up." He leaned back in his chair. "And most importantly, you need the money desperately enough to do exactly what I tell you."

My nails dug into my palms. "I'm not your employee."

"No. You're my incubator." He pulled out a pen. "For the next nine months, you'll carry Victoria's children. You'll follow every protocol, attend every appointment, do exactly as instructed. And when it's over, you'll sign away all rights and disappear from our lives. Do we understand each other?"

Victoria's children. The embryos created from her preserved eggs before she died. This wasn't just surrogacy—this was Dominic's last connection to the woman he'd lost.

The woman whose death he blamed me for.

"I understand," I said quietly.

"Good." He slid the contract across the table. "Then sign."

Marcus cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should review the terms—"

"She's had a week to review them." Dominic's eyes never left mine. "Sign it, Dr. Morgan. Unless you've changed your mind about needing the money?"

I thought about Mom. Her insulin. The bills. My research dying.

I picked up the pen.

The contract was thick, full of legal language that made my head spin. But the basics were clear: I would carry Victoria's genetic children—created from her preserved eggs and donor sperm—to term. I would have zero contact with Dominic unless absolutely necessary. Everything would go through Marcus or Elena, Dominic's assistant.

I was to be invisible. A vessel. Nothing more.

My hand shook as I signed my name on the final page.

Dominic took the contract, barely glancing at my signature. "Marcus will arrange the first payment and your monthly stipend. The clinic will contact you about the procedure date." He stood. "One more thing."

I looked up at him.

He leaned down, hands on the table, close enough that I could smell his cologne—expensive, cedar and something darker. Close enough to see the pain buried deep in those cold eyes.

"Don't think I've forgotten what you did," he said softly. "Victoria wanted children more than anything. You took her from me. The least you can do is give her this."

His words were a knife between my ribs.

"Every time you feel them move, remember—they're not yours. They're hers. You're just the incubator keeping them alive until I can take them home where they belong."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak.

Dominic straightened and walked to the door. "We're done here. Marcus will handle the details."

He left without looking back.

The door closed with a soft click that felt like a prison cell locking.

Marcus sighed. "I apologize for Dominic's... intensity. He's not usually—" He paused. "Actually, he is usually like that. But it's worse with you. Victoria's death really—"

"I know what he thinks of me." My voice was hollow.

Marcus pulled out his phone. "I'll have Elena send over the payment information and the clinic schedule. The procedure is scheduled for next Friday, if that works?"

I nodded numbly.

"For what it's worth," Marcus said gently, "the medical board's investigation was thorough. I read it. You did everything right. Victoria's reaction was genuinely unpreventable."

"Tell that to him."

"I have. Many times." Marcus walked me to the door. "He doesn't listen. Grief makes people irrational."

In the elevator, I stared at my reflection in the polished doors. I looked pale. Shaken.

What had I just agreed to?

Nine months of carrying the children of a man who hated me. Who blamed me for destroying his life. Who saw me as nothing more than a walking incubator for the family he'd lost.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: Reminder per contract clause 7.3: Zero contact with Mr. Steele unless emergency. All communication goes through designated representatives. Violation will result in immediate contract termination with no compensation.

I deleted it and stepped out into the Manhattan afternoon.

The sun was shining. People walked past, laughing, living their normal lives.

Mine had just become a nightmare.

That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

I kept seeing Dominic's face. The ice in his eyes. The pain underneath.

"Don't think I've forgotten what you did."

I pulled up my laptop and googled him, something I'd avoided after Victoria died.

Dominic Steele. CEO of Steele Enterprises. Tech billionaire. Self-made fortune. Thirty-four years old. Net worth estimated at $3.2 billion.

I scrolled through articles. Business profiles. Society page photos of him at galas and charity events, always alone after Victoria's death.

Then I found the older articles. The ones from three years ago.

"Billionaire Dominic Steele Loses Fiancée in Tragic Medical Accident"

"Tech CEO's Fiancée Victoria Chen Dies During Routine Procedure"

There were photos from the funeral. Dominic in a black suit, face hollow, eyes empty. He looked like a man who'd lost everything.

One article included an interview he'd given six months later:

"I'll never trust another doctor as long as I live. The medical system failed Victoria. It failed both of us. Especially the doctor responsible—Dr. Riley Morgan. The medical board cleared her, but I know the truth. Money protects its own."

My name in print. His hatred immortalized online.

I closed the laptop and pressed my hands against my eyes.

This was a mistake. A huge, terrible mistake.

But it was too late. I'd signed the contract. The first payment—$10,000—was already in my account. I'd already used it to pay Mom's medical bills.

There was no going back.

My phone rang. Unknown number. I stared at it, debating whether to answer.

Finally, I picked up. "Hello?"

Heavy breathing. Then a woman's voice, cultured and cold: "Stay away from him. Victoria wouldn't want this."

"Who is this?"

"You know who this is. You killed my daughter. And now you're trying to replace her with your bastard children."

Catherine Chen. Victoria's mother.

"Mrs. Chen, I'm not—"

"Stay away from Dominic. Stay away from my daughter's memory. Or you'll regret it."

The line went dead.

I sat there in the dark, phone trembling in my hand.

Nine months suddenly felt like a lifetime.