Chapter 5

The next seven days blurred into a grueling test of endurance. Celestia confined herself to the dark room, forcing down the pungent raw garlic and bitter juice at every meal until her stomach constantly ached and her throat burned. Martha watched her with hawkish suspicion, meticulously documenting every bizarre bite and sending daily encrypted reports to Sterling. Yet, Sterling, entirely consumed by his corporate acquisitions abroad, had simply replied with a blanket order to accommodate any and all of the surrogate's dietary cravings to ensure a stress-free environment.

He had unknowingly handed Celestia the exact weapon she needed.

On the seventh morning, she was escorted from her bedroom down the hall to the sterile medical wing. She chewed aggressively on a mint Martha had forced upon her to mask the garlic breath.

Celestia stepped into the bright, white-tiled clinic. The smell of antiseptic stung her nose.

Dr. Evelyn Reed, a sharp-featured private physician in a crisp white coat, greeted her with clinical detachment.

Dr. Reed gestured for Celestia to lie back on the examination table. She pulled out a sterile needle from a plastic wrapper.

Celestia's heart pounded with intense anxiety. She rolled up her sleeve, praying her agonizing garlic diet had worked.

Dr. Reed tied a rubber tourniquet tightly around Celestia's arm. She expertly found a vein and drew a vial of dark red blood.

Celestia winced slightly at the sharp pinch. She turned her head away to stare at the blank, white wall.

Dr. Reed placed the blood sample into a rapid centrifuge machine. It began humming quietly in the corner of the room.

While waiting, Dr. Reed picked up a digital tablet. She reviewed Celestia's chart, frowning deeply at the dietary notes left by Martha.

"Why are you consuming excessive amounts of raw allium and beta-carotene?" Dr. Reed asked directly, her eyes narrowing.

Celestia feigned ignorance. She shrugged her shoulders. "I just developed a sudden, intense craving for them. Pregnancy hormones, maybe?"

Dr. Reed looked entirely unconvinced. But before she could press further, the rapid testing machine beeped loudly.

The doctor walked over and pulled the printed result slip from the machine. Her eyes scanned the medical data quickly.

Celestia held her breath. Her fingernails dug painfully into her own palms, leaving crescent-shaped indents.

Dr. Reed sighed. She turned to Celestia and announced formally, "The pregnancy test is negative."

Celestia exhaled a massive, shuddering sigh of relief. The crushing tension drained completely from her shoulders.

A genuine, radiant smile broke across Celestia's face. She was unable to hide her profound joy at the news.

Dr. Reed tapped on her tablet. She wrote a quick, sharp note in the medical file regarding the surrogate's anomalous psychological state.

Martha Webb entered the clinic. She looked expectantly at the doctor, asking for the results.

Dr. Reed simply shook her head negatively. "The result is negative, Martha," Dr. Reed said, her voice laced with stern professional concern. "Furthermore, her behavior is completely inconsistent with a willing, highly compensated surrogate. I am officially flagging her file. I strongly advise an immediate psychiatric evaluation and a full background re-check. There is something fundamentally wrong here."

Martha's face tightened in extreme displeasure. She immediately turned on her heel and stepped out into the hallway to make a satellite phone call.

Celestia was escorted back to her bedroom by the two silent guards. Her step was noticeably lighter.

Once inside, she locked herself in the bathroom. She splashed freezing cold water on her face, celebrating her small, biological victory.

Exhausted from a week of constant anxiety and stomach pain, she crawled into bed. She fell into a deep, peaceful sleep for the first time.

Hours later, she was abruptly woken up.

The sound of frantic vacuuming and loud shouting echoed in the hallway outside her door.

She rubbed her eyes. She walked to the heavy oak door and pressed her ear against the cool wood.

She heard Martha barking aggressive orders at the maids. She demanded fresh linens and Sterling's preferred vintage whiskey be brought to the master suite immediately.

Celestia slowly turned the brass knob. She peeked through a narrow crack into the busy hallway.

She saw maids rushing past with armfuls of expensive, freshly pressed suits and massive floral arrangements.

The realization hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. Sterling Sinclair IV was returning to the island today.

The peacefulness she had felt just hours ago vanished instantly. It was replaced by a cold, suffocating wave of pure panic.