Chapter 2 Terms and Ghosts

Maya sat across from a long, glass table in a private office downtown, sunlight pouring in but offering no warmth. A neat stack of papers sat in front of her - thick, clinical, terrifying.

Spencer hadn't arrived yet.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she flipped the first page again. It was real now. The house, the debt, her entire life rested on this contract.

"You may review everything again," the lawyer offered, kind but impersonal. "No pressure to sign today."

But there *was* pressure. A two-month deadline. A home about to be lost.

"I've read it," she said, voice firming. "I'm ready."

The door clicked open. Spencer Callahan stepped in, calm and unreadable. He nodded toward Maya as he moved to sit beside her.

"Thank you for coming," he said. "And for considering this."

She looked at him - perfectly dressed, expensive watch, yet there was something strained behind his eyes. He didn't want to be here either. That, at least, they shared.

"I'll go over the key points," the lawyer said, flipping to page three. "Miss Kingston will carry the child through surrogacy, with no legal or parental claim. Medical costs and compensation will be covered by Mr. Callahan. A total payment of-"

"I don't care about the amount," Maya said quietly.

Spencer looked at her, then nodded once. "That's why I chose you."

She blinked.

"No offense," he added, "but most women we reviewed looked at this like a lottery. You didn't."

Maya didn't respond. Her reasons weren't pure - they were desperate. And maybe that's why she'd accepted. Not for greed. For survival.

"I'll sign now," she said. "Unless you need to change anything."

"No changes."

She took the pen, her hand steady now, and signed.

So did he.

It was done.

---

Later that afternoon, Maya walked through the medical facility where the embryo transfer would happen. Everything was quiet. Spotless. Peaceful, even.

A doctor explained the steps. Hormonal treatments. Scans. A few days of rest. It would happen quickly.

Maya nodded at every instruction, but her mind kept drifting - to the house, to her father's laughter in the garage, to the emptiness waiting at home.

When the doctor left, she sat alone in the waiting room.

And for the first time since she lost her family, she allowed herself to feel something like hope.

---

*Meanwhile...*

Spencer stood by the window of his penthouse, whiskey in hand, staring down at the city lights. He should've felt relief. The contract was signed. The process was in motion. The deadline his grandfather set was finally within reach.

But all he could think about was Ivy.

It hit him out of nowhere - her voice, sharp as glass.

*"You'll never be enough."*

*"You think money can fix what's broken inside you?"*

*"I loved the idea of you, Spencer. Not the man you are."*

He closed his eyes.

They'd met at a charity gala. Ivy, stunning and ambitious, had swept in like a storm. She made him laugh again. Made him believe in love again. For a while, she even made him forget the pressure of legacy.

But it all came crashing down the day she found out he wasn't the company's current heir - just the *chosen* one. His inheritance hadn't been transferred yet, and his name alone didn't carry the money she craved.

"You're not even rich yet," she spat the day she left. "You're a promise, not a reality."

He had stood in the hallway of her apartment, watching her pack.

"I thought we were real," he said quietly.

She didn't answer. Just slammed the door behind her.

That was two months ago.

He hadn't spoken to her since.

But the wound still ached - not because he missed her, but because she reminded him why love was a liability.

This is why the surrogacy made sense.

No emotion.

No betrayal.

Just a transaction.

Just a child.

---

The clinic room was white and quiet - too quiet. Maya lay on the exam table, a thin hospital blanket pulled over her legs. A nurse gently adjusted her IV as the doctor reviewed the final scan.

"You're responding well to the treatment," the doctor said with a reassuring nod. "Transfer is scheduled for this Friday."

Maya nodded, though her body felt like it belonged to someone else.

Spencer hadn't been around since the contract was signed. He didn't need to be. They weren't friends. They weren't lovers. They were... connected by one cold agreement.

And yet, a small part of her wished he would check in - just once.

---

Friday came.

Spencer did show up - not for the procedure itself, but right after.

Maya was resting in recovery, sipping water slowly. The nurse smiled when he walked in, all polished and handsome in a dark coat.

"You didn't have to come," Maya said, startled.

"I know," he said simply. "But I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She blinked at him. "Thank you."

Spencer pulled the chair beside her bed and sat, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. "They said the transfer went well."

"It did," she said, watching him. "It's strange. I don't *feel* different, but I know everything's changed."

He nodded, looking down at the hospital floor.

"My grandfather would call this progress," he murmured.

"Does he know about me?"

"No. Just that I'm... taking care of it."

Maya tilted her head. "You don't talk much about your life."

Spencer gave a short laugh. "That's because it's not much of a life."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Pressure," he added. "Responsibility. A long line of powerful men expecting me to carry their weight."

Maya looked at him, truly looked.

"You think this baby will fix that?"

He looked up at her then, expression unreadable.

"I don't know. But it'll stop everything from falling apart."

---

Over the next few days, Maya stayed in the clinic's nearby guest suite. Spencer covered everything, of course - the medication, the nurses, the private care. It was all perfectly arranged.

But the nights were the hardest.

Alone in the quiet, she would place her hand on her belly and whisper into the silence, *"If you're in there... I promise I'll take care of you, even if you're not mine to keep."*

---

Back at his penthouse, Spencer sat at the piano he never played. His fingers hovered over the keys.

He'd followed the rules. Fulfilled his end.

So why did he feel so off balance?

He thought of Maya in that hospital bed, the strength in her voice, the steadiness of her choice - all made without love, yet full of something he couldn't name.

He remembered Ivy's cold ambition, her betrayal... and how different Maya felt from all of that.

She wasn't trying to trap him.

She wasn't trying to love him.

She just wanted to survive.

And somehow, that was the most honest thing anyone had ever offered him.

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