The hospital corridor smelled like antiseptic and dying hope.
I stood outside Asher's room, my forehead pressed against the cold wall, trying to breathe through the crushing weight on my chest. Through the small window, I could see my baby brother's pale form in the bed, tubes and wires connecting him to machines that beeped with mechanical indifference.
Fifteen years old. He was only fifteen years old.
"Miss Sterling?"
I turned to find Dr. Chen approaching, his expression carefully neutral in that way doctors had when the news was bad.
"How long?" I asked, skipping the pleasantries. I couldn't handle gentle words right now.
He sighed. "Three months. Maybe four if we're lucky. The disease is progressing faster than we anticipated. I'm sorry."
Three months.
My brother had three months left to live, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. No amount of money, no experimental treatment, no miracle was going to save him this time.
I nodded mechanically. "Thank you, Doctor."
He left, and I forced myself to enter Asher's room with a smile I didn't feel.
"Hey, sis." His voice was weak but he managed a grin. "You look like someone died."
"Don't joke about that," I said, settling into the chair beside his bed and taking his thin hand in mine.
"If I can't joke about it, who can?" He squeezed my fingers with what little strength he had. "Besides, I need to talk to you about something important."
My heart clenched. "Ash—"
"I want to be an uncle before I go."
The words hung in the air between us like a bomb waiting to explode.
"What?" I whispered.
"A baby, Aria." His eyes were serious despite his weak smile. "I want to meet your baby. I want to hold them, even if it's just once. I want to know you won't be alone when I'm gone." His grip tightened desperately. "Please. This is the only thing I want."
Tears burned my eyes. "Asher, I can't just—"
"You've been married for over a year," he said quietly. "I know you don't talk about him, I know he never visits, but... can't you ask him? For me?"
My mysterious husband. The ghost who paid my bills but never showed his face.
How could I tell Asher the truth? That I'd never even met the man I'd married? That our "marriage" was nothing but a business transaction, a contract signed in desperation for money to pay for these very hospital bills?
"I'll try," I lied, because it was easier than explaining that my marriage was as real as a fairy tale. "I promise, Ash. I'll try."
He smiled, content with that, and closed his eyes. "That's all I need to hear."
I left the hospital an hour later with a plan forming in my mind—desperate, crazy, and possibly the worst decision I'd ever make.
But when your fifteen-year-old brother was dying and his last wish was to meet your baby, sanity became negotiable.
My phone buzzed. A text from my roommate, Jen.
Jen: Girl, where are you? You need to get ready! Tonight's the night, remember?
Right. Tonight.
I'd told Jen last week about my plan—vague enough not to sound completely insane, but honest enough that she'd understood what I needed.
Me: On my way home now.
Jen: Good! I laid out that black dress on your bed. You're going to look AMAZING. Some hot guy is going to be all over you
If only she knew the whole truth. That I wasn't going to Velvet Noir to have fun or feel attractive or escape my problems.
I was going there to get pregnant by a stranger.
Because my husband—wherever the hell he was—clearly wasn't interested in fulfilling any marital duties. And Asher didn't have time to wait for a man who would never come.