Chapter 4

Celestia was escorted back to her room. The door locked behind her with a final, depressing click.

She slumped into a velvet chair. Her eyes caught a glossy women's health magazine neatly stacked among a curated selection of approved reading materials on the mahogany bookshelf.

She picked it up and flipped through the pages aimlessly. Her mind was racing with dead ends.

Then, a specific headline caught her eye: Natural Contraceptives: Myth or Reality?

She sat up straight. She read the article intently. The text detailed how excessive consumption of raw garlic and certain enzymes found in carrots could drastically alter uterine pH levels, making it hostile to sperm.

A desperate, daring plan formed in her mind. She memorized the list of foods. She quickly shoved the magazine deep under the heavy mattress.

Hours later, a soft knock sounded at the door. Executive Chef Giles Peterson entered. He was pushing a gleaming silver dinner cart.

Giles lifted the silver cloche with a flourish. He revealed a decadent spread of fresh oysters, beluga caviar, and folic-acid-rich dark greens.

Celestia pushed the expensive porcelain plate away. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"I won't eat this," she said, refusing to touch the fertility-boosting meal.

Giles looked perplexed. He politely asked if the surrogate required a different flavor profile or preparation method.

"I want a large bowl of raw garlic cloves," Celestia demanded. "And a pitcher of pure, unpasteurized carrot juice."

Giles blinked in absolute shock. He stared at her, processing the bizarre, pungent request. He looked toward the open door for guidance.

Martha Webb stepped into the room. Her brow furrowed deeply.

"What game are you playing?" Martha asked sharply.

Celestia lied smoothly. "It is a strict cultural dietary requirement for my digestion. If I don't eat it, I will be violently ill."

Martha looked highly suspicious. But she knew Sterling had explicitly ordered that the surrogate's cravings be accommodated to avoid any physiological stress.

Martha nodded curtly at Giles. She instructed the chef to comply with the bizarre request immediately.

Ten minutes later, Giles returned. He placed a bowl of peeled, raw garlic and a glass pitcher of bright orange juice on the table.

Celestia picked up a raw garlic clove. Her hand trembled slightly as the pungent, sharp smell hit her nose.

She forced the clove into her mouth. She chewed rapidly. The intense spice burned her tongue and scorched the back of her throat.

Her eyes watered heavily. Tears spilled down her cheeks. But she swallowed it down, maintaining direct, defiant eye contact with Martha.

She chased the burn with a large gulp of the bitter carrot juice. She felt her stomach churn uncomfortably, threatening to reject the harsh food.

Martha pulled out her leather notebook. She meticulously wrote down these new, repulsive dietary habits.

"Leave a jar of pickled garlic on the nightstand," Celestia requested, her voice raspy from the burn. "For midnight snacks."

Martha's lip curled in visible disgust. But she nodded slowly, writing the request down in her log.

Celestia felt a small, secret victory bloom in her chest. Her breath already smelled strongly of raw garlic.

She internally hoped the overwhelming stench would physically repel Sterling if he ever tried to touch her again.

Martha and Giles left the room. They locked the heavy door behind them with a loud click.

Night fell over the island. Celestia walked over to the mahogany desk in the corner of the room. She quietly slipped open the top drawer and stole a sharp, silver letter opener she had spotted earlier.

She walked into the bathroom. She squeezed the leftover garlic juice from the bowl onto her fingers. She rubbed it directly onto the pulse points of her wrists and neck.

She gagged slightly at her own smell. She forced herself to endure it for the sake of her plan.

She walked back to the bed. She slipped the stolen metal letter opener carefully beneath her silk pillowcase.

Celestia lay down in the dark. Her heart pounded anxiously against her mattress as she waited for any sign of Sterling's return.