“Earth to Gail,”

Sia’s voice broke through her absent mind. “Are you even listening to me?”

Gail blinked, looking up. Sia was standing at the stove with her hands on her hips. She had that wide-eyed expression she always wore when she was about to spill something juicy.

“Sorry,” Gail murmured, “What were you saying?”

“I was saying,” Sia repeated, dragging out each word and leaning a little closer as if the walls would hear her if she wasn't careful. “You will not believe what I heard today at work.”

Gail managed a faint smile. “Knowing you very well, it’s either a celebrity scandal or another patient who thinks you’re secretly in love with him.”

Sia grinned, but there was a spark in her eyes. “Well, none of the above, this one is big. Like, ‘I-need-to-tell-you-right-now-before-I-burst’ big.” She dropped her voice to a sneaky whisper. “It’s about William Locke.”

Gail’s fingers froze on the edge of the table. Her pulse gave a betraying leap, but she forced her expression to remain neutral. “William Locke?” she repeated, keeping her tone as light as she could manage. “Isn’t that Maxine's…”

She caught herself, swallowing the remaining word and mentally scolding herself. She had almost said the words “Maxine's murderer” out loud.

But in Sia’s world, Maxine was just a name in a rumor. And William? Just another wealthy man whose life was the stuff of news in Dowerhill.

Sia didn’t notice the hesitation. “Yes, that William Locke. Mr Tall, Dark, and Broody. The one who owns WilTech, you know, the fancy tech company in the gigantic glass building near the marina.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Gail said, keeping her gaze carefully on the table to hide the rage boiling through her whole being. “What about him?”

Sia abandoned the ladle she was using to stir the pot, rushing over to perch on the chair opposite Gail. “Okay, so you know how I work at Dowerhill Hospital, right?”

“You remind me daily.” Gail murmured.

Sia giggled. “Well, this morning I was filing some paperwork in one doctor's office when I overheard him talking to a senior nurse. From what I heard,” She leaned in so far that she was almost speaking into Gail's ear. “Mr Locke is looking for a surrogate.”

For a moment, the words didn’t register. Gail stared at her friend, the syllables hanging in the air like a shaky bridge between them.

“A surrogate?” she repeated slowly.

“Yup.” Having dropped the headline of her gossip, Sia sat back, clearly enjoying herself. “Someone to carry his baby. Isn’t that wild? I mean, the man is not even forty, and he has all the money in the world. You would think he could just get a girlfriend or something. But no, he’s skipping all of that and just hiring someone to pop out an heir for him.”

Gail’s mind was no longer on Sia’s playful tone. She heard only the word ‘surrogate’, felt it echoing in the empty space of her chest where only grief and bitterness have lived for the past five years.

“Did they say why?” she asked, keeping her voice deliberately casual.

Sia shrugged. “Something about him needing surgery that might, you know, affect things down there. They froze his sperm already, but he wants to use it right away instead of waiting. I guess he’s not the sentimental type.”

Gail’s heartbeat was a steady drum in her ears. William Locke, surgery, surrogate, an heir that he wanted at once. The wheels were turning furiously in her head.

“I mean,” Sia continued, twirling her finger in her hair, “it’s not like this kind of thing is strange these days anyway. Loads of rich people do it now. But William Locke! Can you imagine what he would be offering to pay such a person?”

Gail didn’t answer immediately. She was picturing his face. Sharp jawline, cold dark eyes, the distant expression she’d seen in photographs and only once in person years ago.

It was at Maxine's funeral. Of course no one invited Gail, but she couldn't bear to miss it, so she had sneaked there. No one had seen her as she said her goodbyes from afar off. She remembered how William, Maxine's so-called husband, hadn’t shed a single tear. She remembered how his face had looked like stone.

And now, he wanted someone to carry his child since Maxine couldn't do that from her grave.

She saw in her mind’s eye, a door swinging open. It was a door that she had been waiting for, for five bitter years.

If she became that surrogate, she would be in his house and in his life. Close enough to see the cracks in his armor, close enough to destroy him piece by piece. She would strip him of the very thing that made him kill her sister, his stupid company and all his billions.

The thought was intoxicating.

Sia was still talking, her voice was a cheerful hum in the background. “Of course, it’s not like they’re gonna put out an ad in the paper or something. The hospital is handling it all privately. One would have to apply through official channels, go through screening, all that. But whoever they pick, gosh, that woman is set for life!”

Gail’s lips curved but not much. “Set for life, huh?”

“Totally. I mean, think about it, he’s a billionaire. Even if he’s not the cuddly type, he'll make sure the surrogate is living in luxury for the whole nine months. And the paycheck?” Sia let out a low whistle.

“Probably insane. If not for the way you love your teaching job, and of course the fact that you're dating my cousin, I swear I'd be pushing you through the hospital door right now to take the job.” She finished with a chuckle.

Gail raised an eyebrow. “You'd be pushing me? Why not go for it yourself?”

“Nah, I'm too squeamish about pregnancy.” Sia dismissed the idea.

Gail’s gaze drifted to the window, but she wasn’t looking at the sunlight that streamed in. She was imagining Maxine at the bottom of the sea, food for fish. Her fist tightened.

This wasn’t just her chance at revenge. This was fate.

“You okay?” Sia asked suddenly, tilting her head. “You’ve been awfully quiet this evening.”

“I’m fine,” Gail said, faking a little chuckle. “Just… thinking.”

Misunderstanding her, Sia grinned. “I mean, imagine me carrying William Locke’s baby. I'd be living in some huge mansion, eating the best food, wearing silk maternity dresses or whatever. And when it’s over, boom, rich forever. Not a bad gig, right?”

“Right.” Gail mumbled.

But her thoughts were far from Sia’s daydreams of luxury. She wasn’t thinking about silk dresses. She was thinking about power, about getting close enough to hurt William Locke the way he had hurt her.

Her pulse quickened, her mind already working through the logistics. She would have to find out how to apply, make sure she passed every medical test, every background check. She must play the perfect candidate. He wouldn’t suspect a thing until it was too late.

And when the time came…

She pushed the thought aside before it could fully form. There was no need to get ahead of herself. First, she had to get in.

“What would I even say to him if I met him?” Sia was laughing now. “Like, ‘Hi, I’m here to rent out my womb’? Awkward much?”

Gail let out a soft chuckle, the sound more genuine than she expected. “Something like that.”

Sia moved on to other topics after that, while serving their food, but Gail’s mind never really left the idea. It sat there like a spark, waiting for fuel to become a raging fire.

Later, when she was alone in her small apartment, she sat at her desk and opened her laptop. Her fingers paused over the keys for a minute, then she began to type. She couldn't wait to learn about the application process for the surrogacy program at Dowerhill Hospital.

The results popped up, and she clicked through until she found the information she needed. It was straightforward, and she could already see the path laid out before her.

As she read, her lips curled into the faintest of smiles.

Five years of waiting. Five years of swallowing her grief, and pretending to move on while the cold ember of rage choked her.

Now, it was time to feed the fire.

The glow from Gail’s laptop screen washed over her face in the darkened apartment, casting deep shadows under her eyes. The hum of the fridge filled the silence, but she didn't notice. She had read through the Dowerhill Hospital surrogacy page three times already. She now knew every detail by heart.

Minimum age of twenty-one, check.

Must be in excellent physical health, check, she hadn’t been sick in years.

No smoking, drinking, or illegal drugs, easy, she hardly even drank coffee.

Background check required, now that was the first possible problem.

But she had nothing illegal in her past. “Just play it cool.” She said aloud to herself.

She would have to use her real name, to avoid any identity card issues. However, that should be fine since her surname was actually that of Aunt Agnes. Her father didn't even find her worthy to bear his name. The hospital would not be digging deep enough to find out that Gail was related to William's late wife. At least, Gail hoped so.

She sat back in her chair, tapping her fingernails lightly on the desk. This wasn’t just an idea anymore, it was a plan.

The application form was there in front of her, waiting. Name, age, contact details, questions about her medical history, her family background, her lifestyle habits. She needed to be careful, not to lie blatantly, but to shape the truth into something that fit the picture of an ideal surrogate.

She finished the form, checking each section again three times before hitting the submit button. A confirmation screen popped up, thanking her for applying and explaining that the hospital’s surrogacy coordinator would contact her within two weeks if she met the initial requirements.

Two weeks.

The waiting would be the hardest part. She had already waited five years, but now that the door was open, every second felt too long.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she opened her contacts and scrolled down to Sia’s name. She typed out a quick message: Thanks for coming over for dinner. You always know how to cheer me up.

It was true, in a way. Sia had cheered her up tonight, just not for the reason her friend would ever guess.

It took less than two weeks for the hospital to reach out to her. In fact, on the sixth day, she received an email from the Dowerhill Hospital Surrogacy Program.

“Dear Ms Clinton,

We are pleased to inform you that you have passed the initial screening for our program. Please contact our office within the next five business days to schedule your medical and psychological evaluations.”

Her pulse jumped. It was happening. William Locke would never see her coming.

***

The hospital’s surrogacy office was nothing like Gail had imagined.

She’d expected something clinical and cold, sterile white walls, the sharp odour of disinfectant in the air. Instead, the small reception area was warmly lit, with potted plants in each corner and soft music humming from unseen speakers. The scent in the air was actually a nice one, soothing in a way that felt deliberate.

A receptionist with honey-blonde hair and a perfectly pressed blouse looked up from her desk as Gail stepped inside.

“Good morning. You must be Ms Clinton?”

“Yes,” Gail replied, her voice soft, almost shy. The part had to be perfect.

“Dr Fielding will be with you shortly. Please have a seat.”

Gail thanked her and crossed the room, choosing a chair that gave her a clear view of the hallway beyond the reception desk. Her heart was steady now, she had rehearsed this moment a dozen times in her head over the past week.

The role she was about to play wasn’t that different from the one she had lived most of her life: the unwanted child who smiled politely, said the right things, and kept her real thoughts to herself. But now, that role was a weapon.

A door opened, and a woman in her late forties appeared. She had warm brown skin, glasses perched low on her nose, and a calm, assessing gaze that seemed to take in everything at once.

“Ms Clinton? I’m Dr Fielding, come with me.”

They walked together down a short hallway into an office decorated with family photos and bookcases crammed with medical journals. Dr Fielding gestured toward the chair opposite her desk, for Gail to sit.

“So,” she began, “you’ve passed our initial screening. This stage is about getting to know you better: your medical history, your motivations, and whether this program is the right fit for both you and the intended parent.”

Intended parent. The words landed heavily in Gail’s ears. She knew who that parent was.

Dr Fielding glanced at her notes. “You’ve indicated no chronic illnesses, no history of mental health conditions. That’s good. And you’re twenty-one, correct?”

“Yes,” Gail said with a polite nod.

“May I ask what brought you to consider surrogacy at this stage in your life?”

Here it was, the first real test.

Gail folded her hands in her lap, letting her shoulders relax. “I suppose it’s a mix of things. I’ve always wanted to do something meaningful, something that would genuinely change someone’s life. I don’t come from a big family, but I know how important family is to people. If I can help give that to someone, why shouldn’t I?”

It was just the right balance, personal without oversharing, warm without being overly sentimental.

Dr Fielding nodded slowly, jotting something down. “And you understand that surrogacy is a big commitment, both emotionally and physically? That the child will not be yours to raise?”

“Yes.” Gail kept her voice steady, though she felt a slight twist in her gut. “I’m here to help someone else’s dream come true.”

‘Lies upon lies,’ she thought silently. ‘But you’ll believe me. Everyone will.’

They went through her medical history in detail, with Dr Fielding occasionally asking follow-up questions. Gail answered each one calmly, weaving her story carefully.

Finally, the doctor leaned back. “The intended parent is a private individual. If you move forward, you’ll meet him before we finalize anything, to ensure both parties are comfortable. I can’t give you too many details yet, but I can tell you he is a successful entrepreneur and takes this process very seriously.”

Gail forced herself not to react. Her stomach gave a sharp flip, but outwardly she only tilted her head with polite curiosity.

“I understand,” she said.

“Good.” Dr Fielding stood, signalling the end of their meeting. “We’ll schedule your medical exams for next week. If all goes well, we’ll arrange the introduction.”

Gail shook her hand, thanked her, and walked confidently out of the office.

It was when she got to the parking lot, the cool morning air brushing against her cheeks, that she allowed herself to breathe deeply.

***

The next week passed in a blur of hospital corridors, vials of blood, and clinical smiles.

Gail endured it all. The awkward ultrasound gel, the endless health questionnaires, even the nutrition talk that was delivered like she was a child. She took it all with the calm patience of someone totally devoted to ‘helping a family.’

By the end of the week, Dr Fielding called her personally. “All your tests came back perfect, Ms Clinton. The intended parent has been informed. He has agreed to meet you tomorrow morning.”

The words sent a sharp, electric jolt through Gail’s chest.

“Mr Locke,” Dr Fielding’s voice carried its usual calm, professional tone. “This is Ms Gail Clinton.”

The door opened, and William Locke stepped into the conference room with the quiet confidence of a man that was used to commanding everyone and everything in the room. His dark suit hugged his broad frame as if it was glued to his skin, and for a split second, Gail’s throat tightened.

He was taller, larger, even more forbidding than she remembered. His shoulders completely covered the doorway and it appeared as though the room was too small for him.

Her stomach clenched. What was wrong with her? ‘Stop staring, Gail. Stop it.’ She wasn’t here to admire him. Beneath all that packaging was the monster responsible for Maxine’s death. She was here to ruin him.

But her eyes betrayed her before she could wrestle them down. They locked with his own, dark, steady, unreadable, and for a long minute she forgot to breathe.

“Ms Clinton.” His greeting was clipped, formal. His voice was smooth and deep, but totally lacked warmth.

She forced herself to smile a little and tilted her head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr Locke.”

Dr Fielding gestured to the chairs arranged near the window, two armchairs turned toward one another for privacy. Gail had been sitting on one of them before Mr Locke walked in. She returned there now, her fingers laced together in her lap, showing only the calm she had practiced to hide the storm inside her.

William sat on the other chair, his movements were economical and precise, as if even the way he lowered himself into a chair needed calculation to avoid any waste of energy. His posture screamed distance. His eyes, though fixed on her, did not soften.

“I’ll be here to guide the conversation,” Dr Fielding said, taking her own seat on another chair slightly to the side. “But this is mainly for the two of you to know each other better. I encourage you to be open, honest, and maintain clear boundaries.”

“Of course,” Mr Locke replied in a firm and businesslike tone that would have been better for reviewing a contract, than for meeting the woman who might carry his child.

He leaned forward a bit, folding his hands. “Ms Clinton, I’ll begin with a few questions. Practical ones.”

“Please,” she responded, smoothing her skirt with her palms. “Go ahead.”

“Your health,” he started. "Do you have any history of complications or conditions that I should be aware of?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve always been healthy. I've had no surgeries and no chronic illnesses.”

“Good. How about your lifestyle? Do you smoke, drink, or perhaps sniff some of this rubbish that people of your age like to sniff at parties?

Judgy, isn't he? “None,” she answered quickly. “I’ve never been much of a party person.”

His brow rose, just slightly, as if trying to decide how much truth was in her words. “And diet?”

She inhaled, steadying herself. “Well, I'm not super rich, but I try to eat balanced meals within my budget. I take lots of vegetables, protein, and water. I know how important nutrition will be during pregnancy.”

His gaze lingered on her for too long, cold and thorough. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking through her, scanning her soul for signs of trouble.

Her chest burned with the effort to keep smiling. ‘This isn’t personal, Gail. To him you’re just a stranger with a womb, nothing more.’

But wasn’t that exactly what she wanted him to believe? That she was just another nameless surrogate, someone he could dismiss easily when he was done, someone beneath his notice? Well, until it was too late for him.

“And you understand your boundaries,” he continued. “ This arrangement is not a family, nothing emotional. It is a service. I want to be clear about that from the beginning.”

His words cut sharper than she expected. She swallowed, forcing her tone to stay normal. “I understand sir. I know what I signed up for, and I’m not here to complicate things.”

Her meaning ran far beyond her words, but Mr Locke only heard what she wanted him to hear.

His jaw flexed. “Good. Because I don’t tolerate complications.”

The room suddenly grew cold with the weight of his words. Gail’s fingernails pressed into her palms painfully. He had no idea who he was talking to. She was here particularly to be a complication he would never see coming.

Still, she softened her expression, “I respect that. This process requires trust, after all. I believe in helping people, in building families, and I want this to work smoothly.”

William’s eyes narrowed slightly, still studying her face for traces of insincerity. Was it just her, or was he usually so suspicious of people? It didn't matter because he seemed to find no trace.

“You admire families.” he repeated slowly, as if the concept was strange to him. His voice had an edge, maybe mockery… skepticism.

“Yes,” she said, letting her voice tremble just enough to sound genuine. “I believe that families should fight for one another, and stay united. Families shouldn't give up on themselves.”

‘Careful, Gail. A little too personal there.’

A muscle in his jaw twitched, the briefest crack in his hard appearance. He looked away, but in the split second it took for him to rearrange his features into indifference, Gail saw something, something she suspected she could use in her plans against him.

Dr Fielding cleared her throat gently. “Most of these questions have been taken care of by the hospital. Why don’t we talk about expectations during the pregnancy, Mr Locke?”

He straightened. “You’ll be provided with accommodation, healthcare, everything you need. You'll be under my roof because my seed which you're carrying must be under my roof, and there'll be rules. Discretion is one of those rules: no interviews, no social media posts, no friends lingering around.”

Her stomach jumped. His roof. She hadn’t realized he would make it so easy for her to get far into his space.

She masked her surprise with a small nod. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” His lips curled into something almost like disdain. “Most people would call it bondage.”

“I’m not most people.”

That earned her a glance that was sharp and searching, as if her words had brushed too close to something he recognized. She bit the inside of her cheek, cursing herself. She wasn’t here to exchange hot words with him. Not yet.

“I’ll respect your boundaries,” she added quickly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

He said nothing.

Dr Fielding spoke again, filling the tension. “Perhaps you should both discuss how communication would be between you. It’s important you’re on the same page.”

William folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. “As little as possible.”

Gail blinked. “As little as possible?”

“Yes. I only need updates when necessary, otherwise I don’t want any conversation.”

She forced a dry laugh, though her chest ached. “That’s… efficient.”

“I prefer efficiency to sentiment.”

Another slice to the ribs. She had thought that she was ready for his coldness, and had even rehearsed for it in her mind. But experiencing it face to face was harder.

‘This is the man Maxine fell in love with? No wonder he drove her to despair and she broke.’

The meeting came to an abrupt end. Dr Fielding summarized their agreements, her voice neutral. William Locke stood first, extending his hand.

“I appreciate your willingness to do this,” he said politely. His grip was steady. “It actually means more than I can put into words.”

Was he trying to show that he was human after all? Gail slid her hand into his own. And electric sparks travelled up her arm from where their skin touched. ‘That is just excitement for the mission ahead’, she tried to convince herself. She hated him more for this pull that she couldn’t deny.

She smiled charmingly. “Then let’s make sure it works.”

She met his eyes, they were cold but not empty. There was something buried deep, something broken, something almost human. And for a fleeting heartbeat, she wondered if revenge would still be satisfying once she shattered what was there.

When she finally left the room, her blood was pounding so loudly that it swallowed up her thoughts.

That evening, Gail received another call from Dr Fielding. “You have passed all stages, and Mr Locke has chosen you to be the surrogate for his baby. He's inviting you for a visit to his place tomorrow morning, for final discussions. Your address has been sent to him, and he'll send a car to bring you.”