Chapter 4

The next morning, Carissa sat in a glass-walled conference room on the top floor of a Manhattan skyscraper. Guilford's private attorney sat across from her, his face devoid of emotion.

He slid a thick "Reproductive Cooperation Agreement" across the table, placing an expensive Montblanc pen next to it.

Carissa opened the folder. She bypassed the medical clauses and flipped straight to the appendix labeled "Historical Debt Settlement."

There it was. A bank transfer record from three years ago. Five million dollars. The receiving account belonged to Isiah Molina. Her father.

Carissa's pupils dilated. Her stomach violently cramped, acid rising in her throat. Essie hadn't been lying.

"If you sign this new contract," the lawyer said coldly, "the previous five million is forgiven, and you will receive a substantial new compensation package."

Carissa slammed the folder shut. She didn't touch the pen. "I have personal business to handle first." She stood up and walked out.

She rode the elevator down, her hands shaking so badly she could barely press the lobby button. Her lungs felt like they were on fire.

An hour later, Carissa walked down a trash-littered street in Queens. She stopped in front of a peeling, rundown townhouse.

She didn't knock. She pulled a spare key from her bag and shoved it into the rusted lock. The door shrieked open.

Inside the cramped, messy living room, Isiah Molina was slouched on the sofa, watching a baseball game. Her stepmother, Janey, was filing her nails with a face mask on.

Isiah jumped at the sound of the door. "What the hell are you doing here? Come to beg for rent money again?"

Carissa didn't speak. She marched forward and threw the crumpled photocopy of the bank transfer directly at his face.

The sharp edge of the paper sliced a tiny cut across Isiah's cheek. He roared, jumping up with his fists clenched, but then his eyes fell on the numbers printed on the paper. He froze.

Janey ripped her face mask off, her eyes wide with panic. She scrambled to grab the paper. "That... that was for an investment!" she stuttered.

Carissa stepped into Isiah's space, her eyes bloodshot. "Did you sell my sick baby to the Gates family for five million dollars?" Her voice was a raw, guttural scrape.

Isiah's initial shock morphed into defensive rage. "He was a burden! Selling him to rich people was the best thing for him!"

The sheer audacity made Carissa's vision go red. She swung her arm and slapped Isiah across the face with every ounce of strength she had.

The crack echoed in the small room. Janey shrieked like a banshee and lunged at Carissa, grabbing a fistful of her hair.

Carissa, hardened by years of working double shifts, grabbed Janey by the shoulders and shoved her hard. Janey crashed into the glass coffee table. It shattered into a dozen pieces.

Isiah grabbed a wooden baseball bat from the corner. He raised it, his face twisted in ugly fury. "I'll break your legs, you ungrateful bitch!"

Carissa didn't flinch. She stepped directly into the swing path of the bat. She pointed a finger at her own forehead. "Do it. Kill me. Because if you don't, I am going to the police, and I will watch you rot in prison for human trafficking."

Isiah's arms trembled. The psychotic certainty in her eyes terrified him. He slowly lowered the bat, spitting on the floor. "You're a monster."

Carissa looked around the room-a room paid for with her son's life. Every ounce of love she ever had for this man evaporated.

She picked up a pair of craft scissors from the side table. She grabbed a chunk of her own hair and sliced it off with a loud snip. She dropped the hair onto the glass-covered rug.

She pulled out her cracked phone, the screen illuminating a photo of Isadore's pale, smiling face. She stared at it for a long moment, the violent tremor in her fingers slowly fading. Her eyes shifted from the absolute destruction of her past to the cold, undeniable reality of what she had to endure for her son's future. The fire of her vengeance cooled into a hardened, unbreakable armor.

"I have no family," Carissa said, her voice dropping to a dead, freezing monotone. "If you ever come near me again, I will drag you to hell with me."

She turned and walked out, slamming the rusted door so hard the doorframe rattled.

Outside, she leaned against the brick wall. She tilted her head back, refusing to let the tears fall. She pulled out her phone and dialed the lawyer's number.

"I'll sign the natural conception agreement," she said, her voice steady.

She hung up. She was going to use the Gates family's power to take back everything that was hers.