Chapter 2

I lay still for ten minutes, staring at the ceiling, feeling my baby move inside me.

She was alive. She was still mine.

The tears came so fast I couldn't breathe. I pressed both hands to my belly and made a promise I would carve into my bones if I had to: No one is taking you from me. Not this time.

A knock at the door. "Elara, breakfast is ready. Don't keep Weston waiting."

That was Dolores, the housekeeper. She had always been cold to me—Victoria's loyal soldier.

I wiped my face, changed into something presentable, and walked to the dining room. Weston sat at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone. He was beautiful the way a marble statue was beautiful—perfect and completely empty.

"Good morning," I said.

He didn't look up. "Mm."

Victoria sat across from him, cutting a poached egg with surgical precision. She glanced at me, then at my plate. "You're showing more this week. Don't overeat. The baby doesn't need you to be fat."

In my previous life, I would have quietly sat down and eaten whatever small portion they allowed. I had been so desperate to please them, so terrified of losing the first family I'd ever had. I was an orphan. I had no parents, no siblings, no safety net. The Ashworths knew that when they chose me. They chose me because of it.

This time, I sat down, took a full serving of eggs and toast, and ate every bite.

Victoria's eyes narrowed. "Did you hear what I said?"

"I did," I replied. "The doctor said I need more protein in my second trimester. I'm following medical advice."

Weston still didn't look up. He never did. I used to think he was just busy. Now I knew—he simply didn't care. I was a vessel. A walking incubator with a convenient blood type.

After breakfast, I told Dolores I was going for a walk. Victoria immediately said, "Take the driver."

"I'd rather walk. Fresh air is good for the baby," I said, already heading for the door.

"Elara." Victoria's voice was sharp. "You are carrying an Ashworth. You don't wander around alone."

I turned and met her eyes. In my previous life, that stare would have made me shrink. Today, it just made me angry.

"I'll be back in an hour," I said and walked out.

My first stop was a law office three blocks from the estate. I'd searched for it in my previous life when I was desperate and post-surgery, but by then it was too late. Everything was already signed.

The receptionist looked at my pregnant belly and designer maternity dress—Victoria insisted I look "appropriate"—and ushered me in quickly.

The attorney, a woman named Sandra Chen, listened to my situation without interrupting.

When I finished, she leaned back. "So your contract states the child belongs to the Ashworth family upon delivery?"

"Yes."

"Did you have independent legal counsel when you signed it?"

I shook my head. "They told me their lawyer would handle everything."

Sandra's expression shifted. "That contract may not be enforceable. A surrogacy agreement where only one party provides legal counsel, especially when the surrogate is also the biological mother and was coerced through financial vulnerability—" She paused. "Elara, I need to see that document."

"I don't have a copy. They never gave me one."

Sandra's jaw tightened. "Of course they didn't."