It was late evening.
The mansion was quiet, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only came after sunset. The dining room glowed with soft amber light, the sconces casting long shadows across the polished table. Outside, the sky had turned a deep indigo, and the air felt heavier, like it was holding its breath.
Elena sat across from Luca, her plate barely touched. The food was elegant—grilled sea bass, roasted vegetables, a glass of sparkling water—but her appetite had vanished hours ago.
She had been rehearsing the words all day.
Now, with the silence stretching between them and the candles flickering low, she knew she couldn't wait any longer.
She cleared her throat gently.
"Mr. Moretti," she said, her voice quiet, almost sheepish.
Luca looked up from his plate, his gaze steady. "Yes?"
She hesitated, fingers brushing the edge of her napkin. "I was wondering… if it's possible for you to pay half the money now. Just half."
He didn't respond immediately.
She continued, her voice gaining a fragile steadiness. "My father's treatment can't begin until the deposit is made. They're holding off because we haven't paid anything yet. If I could just get half… it would be enough to start."
Luca leaned back slightly, studying her with that unreadable expression he wore so well.
"You're asking for an advance," he said.
Elena nodded. "Yes. Just to get things moving. I'll still follow through with everything. I'm not backing out."
He was quiet for a moment, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"You understand this arrangement is built on trust," he said. "And trust is earned, not requested."
"I know," she said quickly. "I'm not trying to break the terms. I just… I can't sit here knowing he's getting worse while I wait."
Luca's gaze didn't soften, but it didn't harden either.
"I'll consider it," he said finally. "But I need to see consistency. No skipped appointments. No emotional instability. You're not just a surrogate—you're an investment."
Elena swallowed hard, nodding. "Understood."
He picked up his fork again, as if the conversation had ended.
But for Elena, it had only just begun.
She had asked.
And now, she would wait.
It was morning.
The light in Elena's suite was soft and golden, spilling through the curtains and warming the marble floor. She sat on the edge of her bed, dressed in a loose sweater and leggings, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. A cup of tea rested untouched on the nightstand.
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen.
St. Augustine Medical Center.
Her breath caught.
She answered quickly, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
A calm voice responded. "Good morning. Is this Elena Hart?"
"Yes," she said, her voice tight.
"I'm calling from the billing department. We've received a partial payment for your father's treatment. The deposit has cleared, and we'll be moving forward with the first phase of care today."
Elena blinked, her heart thudding. "Wait… it's been paid?"
"Yes, ma'am. Half the amount. That's enough to begin. The attending physician will reach out with updates later this afternoon."
She didn't speak.
She couldn't.
"Is there anything else you need from us?" the woman asked.
Elena shook her head, then remembered to speak. "No. Thank you. Thank you so much."
The call ended.
She stared at the phone in her hand, her chest rising and falling with quiet disbelief.
He had done it.
Luca, Mr. Moretti, had paid.
She didn't know when. She didn't know why. But he had.
Her father's treatment was starting.
She pressed the phone to her chest and closed her eyes.
For the first time in weeks, she felt like she could breathe.
The mansion was alive with quiet movement—staff gliding through hallways, the scent of polished wood and fresh linen lingering in the air. Elena moved quickly through the corridor, her heart still racing from the call.
She had to find him.
She turned the corner near the east wing just as a door opened.
Luca stepped out of his suite, dressed in a sharp black suit. His jacket was perfectly tailored, his shirt crisp, his tie understated. In one hand, he carried a sleek black briefcase. He looked like he was heading into a war he expected to win.
Elena stopped.
Then she ran to him.
Before he could speak, before he could raise a brow or ask a question, she threw her arms around him.
A full, unguarded hug.
"Thank you, Mr. Moretti," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Luca froze.
His arms remained at his sides for a moment—surprised, calculating—but then, slowly, he lifted one hand and placed it lightly on her back.
"You received the call," he said.
She nodded against his chest. "They're starting treatment today. I didn't think you would do it anyways … but you did."
He didn't respond right away.
Then he said, "I told you I don't take chances."
Elena pulled back, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. "Still. Thank you."
Luca looked at her for a long moment, then adjusted his cuff and shifted the briefcase in his hand.
"You should rest," he said. "The next scan is tomorrow."
Then he turned and walked down the hall, his footsteps precise, his presence still commanding.
But something had shifted.
And Elena felt it.
Elena sat curled on the chaise by the window in her suite, the late morning light spilling across her lap. Her fingers traced the rim of her teacup absentmindedly, her mind still replaying the moment in the hallway.
The hug.
She hadn't planned it. It had just… happened.
She could still feel the texture of Luca's suit beneath her hands, the brief hesitation in his body before he placed a hand on her back. It wasn't affection. Not exactly. But it wasn't indifference either.
She had thanked him.
And he had let her.
That meant something.
She stared out the window, her thoughts tangled between gratitude and confusion. She didn't know what she was to him. A surrogate. An investment. A responsibility.
But in that moment, she had felt like something more.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
She turned as the door opened and Brittany stepped in, clipboard in hand, her tone brisk but not unkind.
"Elena, you're five minutes late for your appointment with Dr. Leoni."
Elena blinked. "Already?"
Brittany nodded. "The car's waiting. They're expecting you."
Elena stood quickly, brushing her hair back and grabbing her coat from the armchair.
"Sorry," she said. "I lost track of time."
Brittany gave a small smile. "Understandable. But let's keep things on schedule. Mr. Moretti values precision."
Elena nodded, her heart still fluttering from the morning.
She was back in motion.
But the hug lingered.
The sun hung high in the sky, casting sharp shadows across the pavement as the black car pulled up to the clinic entrance. Elena stepped out slowly, dressed in a soft blouse and flats, her coat draped over one arm. The air was warm, but her skin felt cool—nerves prickling beneath the surface.
She walked through the glass doors, greeted by the familiar scent of antiseptic and lavender. The receptionist nodded politely, already expecting her.
"Elena Hart. Third scan," she said, checking her in.
Within minutes, she was ushered into the exam room.
Dr. Leoni was already there, gloves on, her expression calm but focused.
"Afternoon, Elena," she said. "Let's see how things are progressing."
Elena lay back on the table, the gel cool against her skin once again. The ultrasound probe moved gently, and the monitor lit up.
Dr. Leoni's eyes narrowed slightly.
Then she smiled.
"Well," she said. "We've got movement."
Elena's breath caught. "Movement?"
"Not fetal movement," the doctor clarified. "But your follicles have matured significantly. We're nearing retrieval readiness."
Elena stared at the screen. The dark clusters were larger now, more defined. Her body was responding—fast.
"That's good?" she asked.
"It's very good," Dr. Leoni said. "You're ahead of schedule. We'll likely trigger ovulation in the next 48 hours. Then retrieval."
Elena nodded slowly, her heart thudding.
"So soon?"
"Yes. Your body's responding beautifully. But you'll need to rest more. No campus. No stress. We want everything to stay stable."
Elena swallowed hard. "Understood."
Dr. Leoni handed her a fresh schedule and a small vial. "This is your next injection. Tonight. Brittany will assist if needed."
Elena sat up, wiping the gel from her stomach.
She had come for a scan.
She was leaving with a countdown.