The Billionaire's $500,000 baby

Liora's POV

I looked down at the folder. The paper was thick. It felt expensive, like everything else in this room. My fingers were still wet, and I could see a tiny damp smudge forming on the corner of the first page...I pulled my hand back. I didn't want to ruin his perfect document, but then I realized it didn't matter. He was about to ruin my life.

And so,I started to read again.

The words were long and complicated. They were the kind of words lawyers use to hide the truth. But I wasn't stupid. I knew what they were saying. Bloodline Asset. That was me. Not a person. Not a woman. An asset. Like a car or a building...

I felt a weird buzzing in my head. I wondered if the diner was busy right now. I wondered if anyone had cleaned Table 4. It was such a small, dumb thought to have while I was standing in a billionaire's office, but it felt safer than thinking about what was in this folder.

"Keep reading, Liora," Darian said. I didn't look up, but I could hear his glass clink against the desk. "The important parts are on page three."

I turned the page. My hand was still shaking.

Relinquishment of Parental Rights.

The words seemed to jump off the paper. I read the sentence three times. The Surrogate hereby agrees that any offspring produced under this agreement is the sole and exclusive property of the Volkov Estate. Property. Not a baby. A piece of property.

I would carry it. I would feel it move inside me. And then, the second it was born, they would take it away. I wouldn't even be allowed to know its name. I would be a stranger to my own blood.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest. It wasn't my heart...it was just the cold and the fear. But for a second, I understood why my mother's heart was failing. Being alive was just too heavy sometimes.

"Does it say I can't even see it?" I asked. My voice sounded dead.

"You are a vessel, Liora. Not a mother," Darian said. He sounded so bored. Like he was explaining a math problem to a slow student. "The child needs a clean start. No messy emotions. No attachment to a... waitress."

I bit my tongue. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him that my "messy emotions" were the only thing keeping my mother alive right now. But I just kept reading.

There was a section about the procedure. It was very clinical. Medical conception. Artificial insemination. Controlled environment. Then I saw a sub-clause. It was tucked away at the bottom of the page.

Subject must be available for all required observations by the Obsidian Circle.

"What is the Obsidian Circle?" I asked.

The room seemed to get even quieter. I looked at Xavier. He was staring at the wall, but his jaw looked tight. Darian didn't answer right away. He took a slow sip of his drink.

"They are the board," Darian said finally. "The elders of the Volkov interests. They oversee the succession. They want to make sure the investment is sound."

"Observations?" I asked. The word felt oily. "What kind of observations?"

"Health checks," Darian said. "Psychological evaluations. They want to see what they are paying for. It's a formality."

It didn't sound like a formality. It sounded like being in a cage while people poked at you with sticks. I pictured men in dark suits standing around me while I was pregnant, taking notes. I felt a wave of nausea...

Maybe I should just leave, I thought. Maybe I can go back to the hospital and beg the nurses. Maybe I can sell my father's notebook to a museum.

But I knew that was a lie. My father wasn't famous. His notebook was just a bunch of scribbles to everyone but me. And the nurses couldn't do anything without money.

I looked at the next page.

There was a number at the top. $500,000.

It was written in bold, black ink. Five hundred thousand dollars.

It looked like a phone number. It didn't even look like real money. I'd never seen that many zeros in my life. I've spent my whole life worrying about five dollars for a bus pass. I've spent weeks crying over a fifty-dollar utility bill.

And here it was. The price of my soul.

I looked at the number, and then I looked at Darian. He was watching me. He knew exactly what I was thinking. He knew that number was the only thing that could save me, and he knew it was the thing that would destroy me.

"Is that enough?" he asked. There was a tiny bit of a taunt in his voice. "Or do you want to haggle for your mother's life?"

"It's enough," I whispered.

"Then sign it. The pen is right there."

I looked at the silver pen. It looked like a needle. One prick, and everything would change. I'd be rich. My mom would live. And I would belong to the man in the black suit.

I thought about the blue sweater in the trash bag on the sidewalk. I thought about the way the rain felt on my face. I realized that if I signed this, I wouldn't be Liora Hayes anymore. I'd be an "Asset." I'd be "Subject A."

I'd be his.

I reached for the pen, but my fingers wouldn't close around it. My brain was screaming No. My heart was screaming Save her. I looked at the signature line. It was so empty. Just a white space waiting for me to disappear into it.

"I can't," I breathed.

Darian stood up. He didn't look angry. He just looked like he was about to end a meeting.

"Xavier," he said. "Call the hospital. Tell them to stop the transfer. The deal is off."

"No!" I shouted. My hand shot out and grabbed the pen. "Wait! Just... wait."

Darian stopped. He looked at me, his blue eyes cold and sharp...He was waiting for me to break. He wanted to see me crumble before he gave me the money. He wanted to know that he owned every piece of me.

I gripped the pen so hard the metal dug into my skin. I looked at the $500,000 again. It didn't look like money anymore. It looked like a fucking cage.

I looked at Darian. He was beautiful and terrible, and I hated him more than I'd ever hated anyone in my life. I hated that he was the only one who could help me.

"I'm not signing yet," I said. My voice was shaking, but I didn't look away.

Darian's eyebrows went up. "No?"

"I want to see her first," I said. "I want to see my mother in the private wing. I want to see the doctors starting the surgery. Then I'll sign."

Darian laughed. It was a short, sharp sound. "You think you're in a position to negotiate, Liora? That's adorable."

"I'm the only 'vessel' you have right now," I said. I didn't know if it was true, but I had to try. "Sign the authorization for the surgery. Let me see it happen on the screen. Then I'll give you whatever you want."

I was terrified. My heart was thumping so hard I thought he could see it through my wet uniform. I was a waitress from the slums talking back to the king of the city.

Darian walked closer. He stopped right at the edge of the desk. He leaned down until his face was just inches from mine. I could smell the scotch and the cold air.

"You have a lot of nerve for a girl in a wet uniform," he whispered.

"I have nothing to lose," I said. "You told me that yourself."

We stayed like that for a long time. I didn't blink. I wouldn't let him see me blink.

Finally, Darian reached out. He didn't grab the pen. He grabbed my wrist. His grip was like iron. He pulled my hand toward the paper.

"You sign now," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Or you walk home in the rain. What's it going to be, Liora?"

I looked at his hand on my wrist. I looked at the pen. I looked at the black folder that was about to swallow me whole.

I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. 

And Darian Volkov was the one pushing me off.