The clinic inside the estate was pristine—white walls, soft lighting, and the faint scent of antiseptic. Elena sat in a plush chair across from Dr. Leoni, a woman in her early forties with kind eyes and a voice that balanced warmth with professionalism.
Brittany stood nearby, tablet in hand, occasionally tapping notes.
Dr. Leoni smiled gently. "Elena, thank you for coming in. Today's briefing will walk you through the IVF process, step by step. If anything feels unclear, stop me."
Elena nodded, hands folded tightly in her lap.
"First, we'll begin with baseline bloodwork and an ultrasound to assess your hormone levels and ovarian health. That happens today."
Elena swallowed. "Okay."
"Next, you'll start hormone injections—daily, for about ten to twelve days. These will stimulate your ovaries to produce multiple eggs."
"Will I do the injections myself?" Elena asked.
"We'll teach you how," Dr. Leoni said. "Or a nurse can assist. Side effects may include bloating, mood swings, and mild discomfort."
Elena nodded slowly.
"Once the eggs are ready, we'll schedule the retrieval. You'll be sedated. It's a short procedure—about twenty minutes. No pain, just some cramping afterward."
"And then?" Elena asked.
"The eggs will be fertilized with Mr. Moretti's sperm in our lab. We'll monitor the embryos for five days and select the healthiest one for implantation."
Elena's fingers tightened. "And that's when I become pregnant."
Dr. Leoni nodded. "Yes. The embryo will be transferred into your uterus. It's a simple procedure, no sedation required. Then we wait for confirmation."
Elena looked down at her lap. "And if it doesn't work?"
"We try again," Brittany said softly. "The contract allows for up to three cycles."
Elena looked up. "And if it does work… I carry the child for nine months, give birth, and walk away."
Dr. Leoni's voice was gentle. "That's the agreement."
Elena nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay."
Dr. Leoni stood. "Let's begin with your bloodwork and ultrasound. You're doing well, Elena."
Elena followed her down the hallway, her steps slow but steady.
She wasn't just preparing her body.
She was preparing her heart.
They entered a small exam room. A cushioned table sat in the center, flanked by monitors and a rolling tray of instruments. A nurse greeted Elena with a polite smile and gestured toward the table.
"You can lie back when you're ready," Dr. Leoni said gently. "We'll start with the transvaginal ultrasound. It's the most accurate way to assess your ovaries and follicles."
Elena hesitated, then nodded. She changed into the provided gown behind a privacy screen, her fingers fumbling with the ties. When she emerged, she climbed onto the table, heart thudding.
The nurse dimmed the lights. Dr. Leoni pulled on gloves and positioned the probe.
"You'll feel some pressure," she said. "But it won't hurt."
Elena nodded, gripping the edge of the table.
The procedure began.
The monitor flickered to life, revealing grainy black-and-white images. Dr. Leoni pointed to the screen.
"These are your ovaries," she explained. "We're looking for resting follicles—tiny sacs that hold immature eggs. You have a good count. That's a strong sign."
Elena stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the shapes.
"That's me?" she asked quietly.
Dr. Leoni smiled. "That's the part of you that will create life."
Elena's throat tightened.
After the ultrasound, the nurse gently removed the probe and helped Elena sit up.
"Next is bloodwork," Dr. Leoni said. "We'll check your hormone levels—FSH, LH, estrogen, and AMH. It helps us tailor your stimulation protocol."
Elena rolled up her sleeve, watching as the nurse tied the band and inserted the needle. The vial filled slowly with deep red.
She didn't flinch.
She didn't speak.
She just watched.
When it was done, Dr. Leoni handed her a small folder. "Your schedule starts tomorrow. Injections, monitoring, and eventually retrieval. You're doing well, Elena."
Elena nodded, clutching the folder to her chest.
She wasn't sure what "well" meant anymore.
But she was in it now.
Elena returned to her suite, closed the door and leaned against it, the folder still clutched tightly in her hands.
The silence wrapped around her like a blanket—too soft, too heavy.
She walked to the bed and sat down slowly, placing the folder beside her. Her fingers trembled as she untied the gown and changed back into her clothes, each movement mechanical.
She stared at the folder.
Inside were charts, hormone levels, diagrams of her reproductive system. Clinical. Precise. Detached.
But it was her body.
Her eggs.
Her child.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, not yet swollen, not yet changed—but already claimed.
Her throat tightened.
She stood and walked to the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her eyes looked tired. Her skin pale. But her expression was unreadable.
"I'm doing well," she whispered, echoing the doctor's words.
She didn't feel well.
She felt invaded.
She felt… chosen.
She sat at the vanity, opened the folder, and flipped through the pages. One chart showed her follicle count. Another outlined her injection schedule.
She traced the dates with her fingertip.
Tomorrow it begins.
She closed the folder and hugged it to her chest, eyes stinging.
"I can do this," she whispered. "I have to."
She thought of her father—his quiet strength, his fading smile. She thought of the hospital room, the machines, the bills.
This was for him.
This was survival.
She wiped her eyes, stood, and walked to the small cooler bag on the vanity. Inside were the syringes. The vials. The beginning.
She wasn't ready.
But she was committed.
Suddenly, the door clicked open.
Elena turned sharply, startled. Luca stepped inside, dressed in his usual tailored calm, a faint scent of cologne trailing him.
He glanced at the folder on the bed, then at her.
"How did it go?" he asked, voice low but direct.
She hesitated, fingers still curled around the edge of the folder.
"I don't know how I feel…" she said quietly. "But the doctor's nice."
Luca nodded, stepping further into the room. He didn't sit. He stood, watching her like he was reading a report.
"You'll need to suspend school once the pregnancy becomes visible," he said.
Elena blinked. "What? No—I can still attend. I'll be careful."
He shook his head slowly. "It's not about being careful. It's about eliminating stress. You signed the contract, Elena. You agreed to prioritize the pregnancy."
She stood up, defensive. "But school is important to me. I can manage both."
Luca's gaze didn't waver. "This isn't about what you want anymore. It's about what you agreed to. You're carrying a child that isn't yours. That comes with obligations."
Her breath caught. The words stung more than she expected.
"I didn't think it would mean giving up everything."
"You didn't think," he said, not unkindly. "You decided."
She looked away, jaw tight. "So I'm just… a vessel now?"
Luca stepped closer, his voice softening. "You're more than that. But right now, you're also that. And that role comes with rules."
She sat back down, the folder still beside her. Her fingers brushed the edge again.
"I just wanted to help my father."
"And you are," Luca said. "But help comes with cost."
He turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"Rest. Tomorrow begins the injections."
The door closed behind him.
Elena stared at the folder.
She didn't cry.
She didn't speak.
She just sat there, trying to remember who she was before she signed.