Selene's POV
The paper trembled in my hands like it weighed a thousand pounds.
**SURROGACY AND MARRIAGE AGREEMENT**
The bold letters at the top seemed to pulse under the dim lamp light of the hotel suite. I read them repeatedly ,slower each time, as if speed could somehow make the words less real.
Five million dollars for an heir,nine months of my body not belonging to me.
My stomach lurched so violently I thought I might be sick right there. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, tasting salt from earlier tears and the faint metallic tang of shame.
The morality I thought I'd buried under desperation rose up like bile, choking me.
I had sold my body for one desperate night but I definitely won't sell my womb for money.
"So….what do you say Selene?'He asked,his eyes peering down at me as I sat on the bed,the contract numb in my hand.
The contract slipped from my numb fingers and drifted to the floor like discarded trash.
"I–I have to think about it sir"I managed to speak.
"Alright then, my number is on the contract,the money on the bed is yours,you can leave when you want" He said, picked up his towel and went into the bathroom.
I swept both arms across the sheets in one furious motion. Bills flew, fluttered and landed in chaotic piles on the carpet. I dropped to my knees and gathered them,stuffing fistfuls into my purse.
Carlos was still in the bathroom. The shower hissed faintly behind the closed door.
I didn't wait for him to come out.
I yanked the wrinkled red dress over my head, not bothering to smooth it down. The stilettos bit into my heels as I stumbled toward the door.
I didn't look back at the bed. At the blood-stained sheet.
As I left the door clicked shut behind me with a soft finality.
In the elevator, I pressed the lobby button over and over until the doors finally closed after several attempts. My reflection stared back at me—mascara-streaked eyes, hair falling out of its updo, lips swollen from kisses I hadn't wanted to enjoy.
I looked like a woman who had lost everything.
"St. Augustine Medical Center," I told the driver, voice cracking. "Drive as fast as you can please."
The money in my purse pressed against my thigh like a guilty secret.
*****
The night billing desk was quiet. Only one nurse on duty.A middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a name tag that read "Maria."
I dumped the cash onto the counter in messy stacks.
"Twenty thousand dollars," I said. My voice sounded hollow. "Apply it to Elena Hayes' account. Ward C-12. Please."
Maria counted quickly, efficiently. Her eyebrows rose slightly.
"That's a generous deposit, Miss Hayes. It'll cover the next two weeks of dialysis and most of the pre-operative medications. We'll hold the surgical slot pending the balance."
I signed the receipt with a hand that wouldn't stop shaking.
"Thank you," I whispered.
I walked the long corridor to Mum's room.She was asleep, oxygen mask fogging gently with each shallow breath.
The monitors beeped in slow, steady rhythm . I sank into the chair beside her bed and rested my forehead on the thin cotton blanket covering her legs.
"I'm sorry," I breathed. "I tried so hard. I really did."
The contract was still in my purse, folded small. I pulled it out anyway, unfolded it under the weak glow of the bedside lamp.
Five million dollars stared back at me again.
Enough to pay for everything but the price was a child I would never call mine.
If Mum ever found out,if she eventually wakes up one day and learned that her only daughter had rented out my womb like a commodity she would never forgive me.
I folded the paper once more, pushed it to the very bottom of my bag, and closed my eyes.
There had to be another way.
****
The phone rang at 3:47 a.m.
I had fallen asleep on the worn couch in my tiny Echo Park apartment, still wearing the red dress, makeup smudged with my hair tangled. The vibration jolted me upright, heart slamming against my ribs.
Unknown number.
I answered with fingers that felt frozen.
"Miss Hayes?" A calm, professional female voice. "This is Nurse Ramirez from St. Augustine. Your mother's condition deteriorated rapidly about forty minutes ago. Her blood pressure crashed. We've managed to stabilize her temporarily, but she needs emergency surgery within the next six hours or we will lose kidney function permanently."
The room tilted.
"How much?" The words came out strangled.
"Eighty thousand dollars for the operating theater, anesthesia team, and immediate ICU post-op care. We cannot proceed without the deposit."
I had less than five hundred left in my account after the cab and the small bills I'd kept for groceries.
I ended the call without another word.
I immediately remembered the contract was already in my hand.
I stared at it in the dark, the streetlight outside my window casting pale stripes across the paper.
An heir in exchange for my mother's life.
My thumb hovered over the printed number at the bottom.
I thought of Mum's face,the last time I saw her smile.Then I pressed call.
It rang once.
"Selene." Carlos's voice was low, unruffled, as though he had been lying awake waiting for exactly this moment.
The sob tore out of me before I could stop it.
"Please," I whispered. "I'm ready to sign the contract now . My mother is critically ill. They need eighty thousand for surgery tonight,I can't lose her. I'll do it,whatever you want. Just… please."
Long silence.
Then, softly"Be outside your building in fifteen minutes. Don't keep me waiting."
The line went dead.
I didn't change. I didn't brush my hair or wash my face. I grabbed my purse with the contract still inside and ran down the stairs in bare feet, heels dangling from one hand.
A black SUV was already there, engine idling, tinted windows reflecting the sodium streetlights.
The driver opened the back door without a word.
We drove in silence through sleeping Los Angeles.
Twenty-five minutes later we pulled onto a private airstrip on the city's edge. A sleek black helicopter waited, rotors still.
Carlos stood beside it in a dark coat, hands in pockets, expression carved from stone.
I walked toward him on unsteady legs.
He looked me over when I got to where he stood "Morality is a luxury, Selene," he said quietly. "And you, it seems, can no longer afford it."
The words cut deeper than any knife.
Tears burned fresh trails down my cheeks.
"I know," I whispered.
He extended his hand.Not for comfort but for the contract.
I pulled the folded paper from my purse. My fingers shook so badly I almost dropped it.
He produced a silver pen from his coat pocket.
I took it.
The nib hovered over the signature line.
One last time, I searched inside myself for the strength to walk away.
All I found was Mum's face and the sound of the slow, faltering beep of hospital machines.
I pressed the pen to the paper,and ink flowed.
Selene Hayes.I signed.
Carlos took the contract, folded it with precise movements, and slipped it into his inside pocket.
"Get in," he said.