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Nora's POV
"Push, Miss Ashford. One more push." The doctor's voice sounds like it's coming from underwater. Everything hurts. My body doesn't feel like mine anymore. It hasn't for nine months, but right now, it feels like I'm being split in half. I grip the hospital bed rails and push. A scream tears out of my throat. "Good, good. I can see the head. Keep going." The fluorescent lights above me are too bright. I squeeze my eyes shut and push again. Somewhere to my left, I hear Jade's voice. High-pitched. Fake-crying. "Oh my God, Marcus. Our baby. Our baby is almost here." Our baby. The words make my stomach turn, but I don't have time to think about it because another contraction rips through me and I'm pushing again, harder this time, and then suddenly there's release. Pressure gone. Emptiness. A baby's cry fills the room. My baby. No. Not mine. Never mine. I open my eyes, trying to catch my breath. The doctor moves quickly, holding a tiny, wriggling thing covered in blood and white stuff. I try to sit up, try to see her face, but my body won't cooperate. "Is she okay?" My voice comes out scratchy. Desperate. "Can I hold her?" Nobody answers me. The nurses surround the warming table in the corner. I can hear the baby crying, strong and healthy, and relief floods through me even though my arms ache with emptiness. "Mr. Wolfe, would you like to cut the cord?" Marcus's voice is smooth. Professional. Like he's closing a business deal. "Of course." I turn my head and there he is. Tall, perfectly composed in his tailored black suit like he didn't just watch me push a human being out of my body. His ice-blue eyes are fixed on the baby, not on me. They haven't been on me this entire time. Nine months. Nine months of him treating me like a walking incubator. Nine months of cold instructions and medical appointments and him looking through me like I'm glass. Jade rushes past my bed, her heels clicking on the floor. She's wearing a cream-colored dress that probably costs more than my rent. Was worth more than my rent before I got evicted. Her blonde hair is perfect. Her makeup is perfect. She looks like she's going to a photo shoot, not a delivery room. "Let me see her. Let me see my baby girl." The nurse smiles at her. At Jade. Not at me. I watch as they clean the baby, weigh her, wrap her in a pink blanket. My daughter. Except she's not. The contract made that very clear. I'm just the vessel. The carrier. The help. "Seven pounds, four ounces," the nurse announces. "Perfectly healthy." Jade claps her hands together. "Oh, she's beautiful. Marcus, look at her. She has your eyes." I wouldn't know. I still haven't seen her face. The doctor comes back to me, starts working on delivering the placenta. I barely feel it. Everything below my waist is numb from the epidural, but everything above is screaming. "Can I hold her?" I ask again. Quieter this time. "Just for a second?" The nurse holding the baby looks at Marcus. Actually looks at him for permission. He doesn't even glance my way. "That won't be necessary. We'll take her now." My chest tightens. I knew this was coming. I signed the papers. I agreed to all of it. But some stupid part of me thought maybe they'd let me hold her once. Just once. "Mr. Wolfe," the doctor says carefully, "it's actually beneficial for the baby to have immediate skin-to-skin contact with the birth mother. It helps regulate her temperature and heart rate." "Miss Rivers will provide that contact," Marcus says. His tone leaves no room for argument. "She's the mother." Jade is already reaching for the baby, making cooing sounds. The nurse hesitates for just a second, then hands her over. I watch Jade hold my daughter. Her face is doing this expression that's probably supposed to be tender, but it looks practiced. Like she's rehearsed it in a mirror. She's not even looking at the baby's face. She's looking at Marcus. "We did it, baby," she says to him. "We're parents." Something inside me cracks. The doctor finishes up between my legs. A nurse comes over to check my vitals, speaking in a soft voice about recovery and bleeding and stitches. I don't hear most of it. I can't stop staring at the corner of the room where Marcus and Jade stand over the baby. Jade is holding her all wrong. Too stiff. The baby's head isn't supported properly. "You should adjust your arm," I say. My voice sounds hollow. "Her neck needs more support." Jade doesn't even look at me. Marcus does though. Finally. His eyes meet mine for the first time in hours and there's nothing in them. No warmth. No gratitude. Nothing. "We'll figure it out, Miss Ashford. Thank you for your service." Thank you for your service. Like I'm a waitress who brought him coffee. The nurse next to me touches my shoulder. "You did amazing. Do you need anything for pain?" I need to hold my baby. I need to scream. I need to turn back time nine months and rip up that contract before I signed it. "I'm fine," I whisper. I'm not fine. Jade is whispering something to Marcus now, too quiet for me to hear. He nods, then takes the baby from her. I watch him hold his daughter, not mine, never mine, and something shifts in his expression. It's quick. Almost imperceptible. But for just a second, he looks almost human. Then Jade loops her arm through his and the moment's gone. "We should take her to the nursery," Jade says. "Get her cleaned up properly. I want pictures for I*******m." I*******m. She wants I*******m pictures. I close my eyes. This is fine. This is what I agreed to. One hundred thousand dollars to carry their baby because Jade couldn't, or wouldn't, ruin her figure. One hundred thousand dollars to pay off the debts crushing me since Dad died. One hundred thousand dollars to finally breathe again. Except the money doesn't matter now. Nothing matters except the fact that a piece of me is being carried out of this room and I'll never get it back. "Miss Ashford?" I open my eyes. A different nurse stands beside my bed, older, with kind eyes. "I'm going to move you to recovery soon. Is there anyone you want me to call? Family? A friend?" I almost laugh. Family. Dad's dead. Mom left when I was twelve. I don't have siblings. And friends? I had Jade once. Before she became this. Before she met Marcus and turned into someone I don't recognize. "No," I say. "There's no one." The nurse's expression softens with pity and I hate it. I don't want pity. I want my baby. She pats my hand. "I'll be back in a few minutes to take you upstairs. Try to rest." Rest. Right. The room empties out. The doctor leaves. The nurses leave. I'm alone with the aftermath. Blood-stained sheets. Medical equipment. The faint smell of antiseptic mixing with something earthier, more primal. I should feel empty. I just pushed a whole human out of my body. But instead, I feel full. Too full. Like I might burst open from everything I'm not allowed to say or feel or want. Through the window in the door, I can see into the hallway. Marcus and Jade are out there, standing by the nursery window. He's still holding the baby. She's taking a selfie. Then Jade turns to him, says something I can't hear, and pulls him down into a kiss. My breath stops. It's not a polite kiss. Not a new-parents-celebrating kiss. It's deep. Possessive. His free hand goes to her waist, pulling her closer while he holds the baby in his other arm. They break apart and Jade is smiling. Really smiling. Not the practiced one from before. Marcus touches her face, gentle in a way I've never seen him be with anyone. The baby makes a small sound and they both look down at her, then back at each other, and Jade kisses him again. They've been together the whole time. The realization hits me like cold water. Not just now. Not just today. The whole time. The entire pregnancy. Maybe even before. I replay the last nine months in my head. Marcus's coldness toward me. The way Jade was always there at appointments, always touching him, always finding excuses to be close. The way he'd leave rooms when I entered them. The way he never, not once, asked how I was feeling. Because Jade was his girlfriend. His fiancée, maybe. And I was just the incubator they paid for. My hands start shaking. The nurse comes back, moving me to a wheelchair. I let her. I'm numb now. Not from the epidural. From something deeper. She wheels me past them in the hallway. Jade is holding the baby now, posing for another photo. Marcus has his arm around her shoulders. Neither of them looks at me. I'm wheeled into a recovery room. Small. Private. Cold. The nurse helps me into the bed, checks my IV, tells me someone will be by soon with pain medication and instructions for postpartum care. Postpartum care. Like I'm a real mother. After she leaves, I stare at the ceiling. White tiles. Water stains in the corner. A small crack running from the light fixture to the wall. My body aches. My breasts are already getting heavy, preparing to feed a baby I'll never touch. My stomach is deflated and soft and strange. Between my legs, I'm torn and stitched and broken. But none of that compares to the hollow feeling in my chest. I didn't think it would hurt this much. I thought I'd prepared myself. I thought signing the contract, keeping my distance emotionally, treating it like a job would make it easier. I was wrong. There's a soft knock on the door. I don't bother answering but it opens anyway. A man in a suit walks in. Expensive suit. Lawyer written all over him. "Miss Ashford," he says, not quite meeting my eyes. "I'm James Chen, legal counsel for Mr. Wolfe. I have some documents for you to sign." "Now?" My voice sounds far away. "Right now?" "Mr. Wolfe thought it best to handle the final paperwork while you're still at the hospital. Just a formality. Confirming the birth, releasing all parental rights, finalizing the financial arrangement." He pulls papers from his briefcase. Sets them on the rolling table next to my bed. Holds out a pen. I look at the documents. The words swim in front of my eyes. I catch fragments. "Birth mother hereby relinquishes." "No custody." "No visitation." "Final payment upon signature." Final payment. One hundred thousand dollars. Freedom from debt. A fresh start. "Where do I sign?" I ask. He points. I sign. Four different places. My hand shakes but I get through it. "Thank you, Miss Ashford." He gathers the papers, slides them back into his briefcase. "Someone will be in touch regarding the financial transfer within the next few days. You'll be discharged tomorrow morning. Hospital bills are already covered by Mr. Wolfe, as per the contract." He's almost out the door when I find my voice again. "Wait." He turns back. "Yes?" "Can I see her? Just once? Before I leave tomorrow?" His expression doesn't change. Professional. Detached. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Mr. Wolfe was very clear about maintaining boundaries. It's better this way. Cleaner." Cleaner. He leaves. I'm alone again. The sky outside my window is getting dark. Hours have passed since the delivery but it feels like minutes. Like seconds. Like forever. A nurse comes in with pain medication. I take it. She asks if I need anything else. I shake my head. She leaves. The medication makes me drowsy. I fight it at first, but my body is exhausted. Destroyed. I let myself sink into the pillow. Just before I drift off, I hear them in the hallway again. Jade's laugh. High and bright. Marcus's lower voice responding. "She's perfect," Jade is saying. "Absolutely perfect. Worth every penny we paid that girl." Every penny. That's all I am. A transaction. A service rendered. Payment received. I close my eyes and let the darkness take me.POV: Nora Marsh's message turned out to be about a financial detail, not a danger detail. Leo's classification had shifted from passive recipient of information to someone who had actively profited from timing his business moves around what he learned. It was a meaningful legal distinction but not one that suggested any threat to me personally, and Marsh confirmed that directly before I let myself spiral. I told her I appreciated knowing and went back to my actual life, which at that point involved a toddler with strong feelings about which socks were acceptable on a given morning. I kept seeing Leo through the following weeks. Not often, and with a clearer sense now of what the relationship was and wasn't. He remained kind. He remained level. The absence in my chest remained equally consistent, which was its own kind of useful information. Elias never said a word about it. That was the part that surprised me most. I had braced for the controlling version of him to surface the mo
POV: NoraMarsh told me to wait before deciding anything about Leo.The investigation into his connection to Roland's network was still establishing whether he had been a willing participant or someone who had received information without fully understanding where it came from. She said it would take a few more weeks and that nothing about my personal choices needed to wait for that determination, but that I should know the picture wasn't complete yet.I told her I understood and made my own decision anyway, which was to see him. Carefully, with eyes open, treating the uncertainty as part of what I was evaluating rather than something I needed resolved first.He took me to dinner on a Friday.It was a quiet restaurant, nothing performative about the choice, the kind of place where the food was good and the conversation didn't have to compete with anything. He pulled out my chair. He asked about Aria and listened to the answer with actual attention rather than the polite waiting that s
POV: Nora I called Marsh from the studio parking lot. She confirmed it within four minutes. Leo Carver had been named by the cooperating witness as someone connected to the outer edges of Roland Vance's network, not a core Syndicate member, not someone involved in operational decisions, but someone who had received information from the network and had used it for his own business positioning. Marcus's vulnerabilities, his company's weaknesses, the specific timing of Wolfe Industries' difficulties had been information that Leo had accessed through a source he had not been transparent about. He had used my father's network to get close to me. Or he had used his closeness to my father to get close to the network. Marsh wasn't certain yet which direction the relationship had run and she needed more time to establish it. Either way the man who had sat across from me and offered stability and safety had a connection to the people who had destroyed my father's life. I sat in the car and
POV: Nora The investigation into the third name moved quietly in the background of my ordinary life for three weeks before Marsh told me they had enough to proceed. I had maintained my Wednesday dinners during that period as instructed, kept my behavior unchanged, listened to conversations with the new awareness of someone who knew they were sitting across from a person who was something other than what they appeared. It was an uncomfortable thing to practice at a dinner table with someone who passed the bread and asked about Aria's latest words and seemed entirely like a friend. I had gotten good at keeping my face still. That skill, at least, had been useful across multiple situations I had not anticipated needing it for. The formal contact from Marsh came on a Thursday. The person had been approached and had chosen to cooperate with the investigation rather than contest it, which meant the information Roland had provided was being corroborated and the Wednesday dinners were no
POV: Nora Marsh told me the name of the third person in Roland's investigation on a phone call that I took sitting in my car outside the studio because I had looked at her message and understood it required privacy before I read it properly. The name was someone I had shared Wednesday dinners with for over a year. I sat in the car for a long time after the call. Then I drove home and put Aria to bed and sat at the kitchen table and went through every Wednesday dinner in my memory, looking for the places where questions had been pointed in directions I hadn't noticed, where information I had shared had been received with more attention than the conversation required. I found several. I had missed them at the time because the relationship had felt earned and safe and I had been operating on the assumption that earned and safe were the same thing. They were not always the same thing. I called Marsh back and told her what I remembered. She said it was useful and asked me not to chang
POV: Nora Roland Vance's statement took six weeks to prepare. Marsh's office handled it carefully, which meant slowly, because what he was offering touched people and institutions that required careful handling before anything became public. I was kept informed at each stage but not involved in the mechanics of it, which was the right arrangement. I had done my part in that story. Other people were finishing it. I focused on the studio. The waiting list had extended to three months and I had started turning down projects that didn't interest me, which was a thing I had not been able to imagine doing eighteen months ago when the first client had walked through the door. Selectivity was a luxury built from sustained good work and I understood that clearly enough not to take it for granted. Elias called on a Thursday in the second month after the facility visit to ask if he could show me something. Not a Aria-related request, he was specific about that. Something he wanted me to see
POV: Nora I went to see Aria that evening like Elias said. The penthouse was quieter than I expected. No lawyers, no security visible, just a housekeeper who let me in and pointed toward the living room where Elias was on the floor with Aria between his legs, stacking soft blocks and knocking the
POV: Nora I didn't plan to go. I had been thinking about it for four days without deciding, turning it over the way you turn over something that has sharp edges, carefully, from a distance. Sera thought it was unnecessary. Chen thought it was unwise. Marsh's associate had no opinion on it because
POV: Nora I didn't watch the arrest. I was in the corridor when Chen came back through the courtroom door with Marcus between her and the second officer, his lawyers two steps behind in the tight frustrated movement of people whose professional response had been outpaced by events. I was sitting
POV: Nora I told the nurse before I told either of them. She was the right person to tell, the one with the clinical training and the immediate practical response, and she confirmed what I already knew with a brief assessment and a calm that I found genuinely useful. Early labor, she said. Regula







