The Billionaire's $500,000 baby

The iron gates didn't just close,they hissed. It was a heavy, hydraulic sound that made my stomach drop. I turned around in my seat to look through the rear window. The bars were thick and black, cutting off the road, the trees, and the world I used to live in.

I was inside now.

The car moved slowly up a long, winding driveway. The gravel crunched under the tires. On both sides, there were rolling lawns that looked like they were trimmed with a pair of scissors. Everything was too perfect. It made me feel even messier. I looked at the mud on my sneakers and the way my pink uniform was stuck to my skin. I felt like a bug that had accidentally crawled onto a wedding cake.

"We're here," Xavier said.

The house appeared out of the mist. It wasn't really a house. It was a fortress of grey stone and dark glass. It looked old and angry. There were hundreds of windows, but none of them showed any light. It looked like a place where people lived in the shadows.

The car stopped in front of a side entrance. Xavier got out and opened my door. The air out here was different than the city. It was cold and smelled like wet earth and expensive pine.

"This way," Xavier said. He didn't wait for me. He started walking toward a set of heavy oak doors.

I followed him. I kept my father's bag pulled tight against my side. My legs felt like jelly. I wondered if I could still run. I looked at the stone walls and the cameras tucked under the eaves. No. I couldn't run. I had signed the paper. I was a "Volkov responsibility" now.

We stepped inside.

The hallway was wide and silent. The floor was white marble, so polished I could see the ceiling reflected in it. It was beautiful, but it was cold. Not just cold like the rain-cold like a refrigerator.

Two women were waiting for us. They were wearing grey dresses and white aprons. Their hair was pulled back so tight it made their eyes look startled. They didn't say hello ,they didn't even smile. They just stood there like statues.

"This is Liora," Xavier told them. "She's the guest of the West Wing. You know the protocols.

The women nodded in unison. It was creepy. They looked at me, but they didn't really see me. They looked at me the way a mechanic looks at a car part. One of them stepped forward and reached for my bag.

"No," I said, pulling away. My voice was sharper than I meant it to be. "I'll carry it."

The woman stopped. She looked at Xavier.

"Let her keep the bag," Xavier said. He looked at me. "I have to check in with Darian. These women will show you to your suite. Eat something. Try to get warm. The medical team will be here in an hour."

"An hour?" I asked. "But I just got here."

"Darian doesn't like to wait, Liora. You know that."

Xavier turned and walked back toward the main part of the house. I watched him go. He was the only person I knew here, and even he wasn't really a friend. Now I was alone with the statues.

"Follow us, please," one of the women said. Her voice was flat.

We walked through a maze of hallways. 

Every room we passed was full of expensive things. There were silk curtains and marble statues and soft, golden lighting. But there were no books. No family pictures. No half-finished cups of coffee or messy piles of mail. It was a house that didn't feel like anyone actually lived in it. It felt like a museum.

Maybe they keep the life in the other wing, I thought. Maybe Darian has a room where he keeps his soul. I almost laughed at that, but my throat was too dry.

We reached a set of double doors at the end of a long gallery. One of the maids opened them.

"Your suite," she said.

I stepped inside. It was huge. There was a bed that looked like a cloud, covered in white silk. There was a fireplace that was already crackling with a small, perfect fire. There was a bathroom the size of my entire apartment.

It was the most beautiful room I had ever seen. And I hated it. It felt like a trap.

"We have prepared a bath," the other maid said. "The wardrobe has been stocked. Please change out of... that."

She looked at my diner uniform like it was a pile of garbage. I looked down at it. She was right. It was stained and wet and cheap. But it was the only thing I had that felt like me.

"I'll be fine," I said.

"Mr. Volkov insists on a medical-grade environment," the maid said. It wasn't a suggestion.

I sighed. I was too tired to fight them. "Fine. Just... leave me alone for a minute."

They nodded and walked out, closing the doors softly. I heard the click of the latch. I didn't check to see if it was locked. I didn't want to know.

I walked over to the bed. It was so soft it felt like it was going to swallow me. On the nightstand, there was a small, white box. It had a "V" embossed on the top in silver.

I opened it.

Inside was a iPhone. It was slim and black, made of metal and glass. It looked like it cost more than a year of my rent. I picked it up. It was heavy.

I turned it on. The screen was bright and clear. I looked for the icons I usually saw on phones. There was no internet browser. No social media. No camera.

I went to the contacts.

There was only one name.

Darian.

I stared at it. Just one name. He really meant it. I was a ghost to the world. I couldn't call my mom. I couldn't call the diner. I could only call the man who owned me.

I felt a wave of anger. I wanted to throw the phone against the marble floor. I wanted to see it shatter into a million pieces. But then I remembered the hospital feed on Xavier's tablet. I remembered the heart monitor.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I set the phone down carefully.

I walked over to the window. I pushed back the heavy silk curtains. Outside, I could see the garden. It was beautiful, but there was a high stone wall beyond the trees. I could see the glint of barbed wire at the top.

I wasn't a guest. I wasn't even a "vessel."

I was a prisoner in a very expensive cage.

I looked at my hands. They were finally stopping their shaking, but my heart was still racing. I had an hour. An hour until the doctors came. An hour until they started mapping me.

I looked at the fireplace. The flames were orange and blue. They looked warm, but I felt colder than I ever had in the rain.

I thought about Darian back in his office. I thought about the way he looked at me...like I was a puzzle he was going to solve. I wondered if he was watching me right now. I looked around the room for cameras. I didn't see any, but I knew they were there.

"I'm here, Mom," I whispered to the empty room. "I'm here. Just stay alive."

I walked toward the bathroom. It was time to take off the pink uniform. It was time to stop being Liora Hayes and start being whatever Darian Volkov wanted me to be.

But as I caught my reflection in the massive mirror, I saw the fire in my own eyes. It was still there. He could take my clothes. He could take my name. He could lock me in a silk room...

But he hadn't won yet.